the blog

How Could… Dare You… To Me

I called it when we started, you know? Not the first time we started, because  it didn’t really start for me then, but in February when we partnered up to survive the end of the world. There’s something restless inside you, unstable and intoxicating and I recognized it right away because it’s the same devil that lives in me. You can’t ever get enough.

We were laying at the end of the bed, my legs were on you, yours bent so that your feet touched the floor. You were talking too much and for once, I was listening, but to your voice as it echoed off the walls of your chest. It was serene, being with you like that, your skin so soft on my cheek, your fingers stroking my hair, and I felt it again. “You’re going to break my heart someday.”

You felt like enough to me. I mean, you sound like shit on paper and winding up with you is synonymous to selling myself short, but “enough” isn’t decided by reason. It’s a hunger pang, visceral and automatic, satiated only when it is and not when we think it should be. I was embarrassed to imagine a future with you, but I couldn’t imagine that I would leave. You were enough.

We had been naked all morning, I’d made you hard as a rock and then stopped and you fought back with little flicks of your tongue. I came once, then made myself come again and then we had sex. Mind-blowing sex, with all ten thousand nerves hyper-active, every one of them feeling every millimeter of you. My knees buckled and I had to scream, I had to stop but I couldn’t stop and as you climaxed, I came again. We collapsed and you made a sandwich and I didn’t move for half an hour.

“Me? Break your heart? I think you’ve got this all wrong. There’s no way.”

Eventually, I had to get ready for work,  and that’s when we wound up on the end of the bed. You tackled me and tried to convince me to hold off on the shower once I’d slipped out of my clothes. “The best sex of my life,” you had called it, and you already wanted more. It’s like the fact of it being great was evidence of there being something better. You didn’t want to miss out. 

“You’ll start feeling good, and feeling good about yourself, and you’ll want to get out there and get to living again. I’ll have helped guide you through the darkness, and instead of loving me more for it, you’ll associate me with the past you want to leave behind. It will be for the allure of another woman, dressed up like something brand new. You will cheat.”

You swore that I was wrong of course, though I know now that you must have known I was right. 

It’s telling that while we were laying there, after the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, you were in the unique position to witness a greatness in me that I couldn’t: the power of my intuition, the clarity of my mind.  You didn’t see it, except as a threat to be neutralized, and kicked it covered with dirt of your lies. 

In hiding the truth about you, you hid myself from me, too, so that you had both of our secrets. Yours is that you are less than you think and mine is that I am more than either one of us knows, and in this, the rest is revealed. I was the best you’re ever gonna have, even if there exists something better. You weren’t worthy of me as it was. And now that the truth has come up to put you out of sight, I will thrive. I will be everything you didn’t want me to know that I am.  

“How could you do this to me?” loved you, you know? Really loved you, never  thought of anyone else. I would have loved you forever and I never would have hurt you on purpose. 

“How dare you?” loves herself. After everything I’ve done for you, carrying your entire weight, helping you come back to life, teaching you how good people live. You’ve cost me so much, you’ve compromised me so much, and in the end, you just hurt me some more. How fucking dare you?

Soon I won’t go back and forth anymore.