Do I really have to apologize for it? For being emotionally wrecked, for being entirely true to myself, for pursuing these sexual urges and for the poison in my head filled with strong trust issues? Do I have to abide by the rules of relationships and pretend to be the cool girl the society expects me to be? I ain’t doing that shit. I deserve to live by my own independent laws about how to have a full life. A life that won’t forbid me to do the things that satisfy my skin’s cravings for some touch. A kind of choice that eases the pain of being alone but I didn’t want that to last long, being with someone that is. It makes me feel ecstatic to be caressed by married men, by them bad guys who needed some punishment. But ironically speaking, I cringe to the idea of a long term bond, a serious relationship with only one man—it smells like a disastrous thought to begin with. I’ve always been true to myself but I’ve been lying to them for the most part. One of the most pretentious things I’ve ever done that I’m never guilty of is the lie that I had feelings for them. Ha ha! I’m a professional actress by nature. Most guys fall for my emotional acts, for the tears I faked before I would have to leave, for my big brown puppy eyes I was naturally blessed with that tickles their poor hearts. I ain’t sorry for them, I will never ever be. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate them, neither do I generalize men as playboys and idiots. Most of them are but I also would like to believe that there could be some who are decent enough to be loved. It’s just that, I don’t like the idea of it, of love that is. Of what the books have presented me, of what fairy tales have fooled me when I was little. Perhaps it’s not only that I don’t like it, I guess it’s merely because I haven’t really felt it. Sometimes I wonder if it’s really kind and if it’s really patient, I wonder if it’s truly powerful.
Last night, I met this guy by the name of Robbie that I slept with almost a couple of weeks ago when I was in New York. I moved in to San Francisco now and I was surprised to see him seemingly lurking around the dark flashy bar I was in. I had a feeling he was there to see me but I brushed off that thought in me. When I see no signs of him, I hastily made my way out of the place and waved for a taxi. Just by the time I opened the cab door, he abruptly appeared out of nowhere and strongly grabbed me by the arm and apologized to the driver then shoo him away. I get off of his hand that was somehow stuck into my arm then looked at him puzzlingly.
He gestured me to follow him and we sat to the bench near the colorful fountain by the park. His dominance honestly turns me on but his silence irritates me so I broke it in a very calm way.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing. Or maybe something.”
“Huh. What is it?”
“I lied to you.”
“I ain’t married.”
“And you’re the first woman I ever slept with”
My mouth slightly opened with this surprising news but I still managed to maintain a poker face. I pretended I didn’t care and said,
“I always see you there, in this bar in New York. I chatted with the bearded bartender once when you weren’t around and I asked about you. He told me this gossip that you only sleep with married men and bad boys, so I decided to pretend like one, I even wore a fake ring to make it look real. I had to do that so I could get closer to you, so I could ascertain what I feel for you.”
“Haha nice story. Go on.”
“The first time I saw you was one Tuesday evening, 11th of November. You were wearing that shiny silver plunging dress. I thought you were really gorgeous, like what everyone else thought in that place. But I didn’t want to sleep with you when I saw you that night. I just enjoyed watching you giggle with the guys you were flirting with, I even daydreamed of stealing you from them and talking to you alone by the beach. I went home with a huge smile on my face and it remained in there everytime you cross my mind. I don’t know what this is, but I’m certain that it’s not merely sex that I want from you.”
I suddenly felt a pinch in my soul, not because I believed him, but because for the first time ever, it sounded so real. I have somehow memorized how the bad guys behave, thus his actions are quite foreign to me. If he is not a bad guy, nor a married man, then what is he? A nice guy? Oh no. This ain’t possible. I’ve just broken the code of promise I made to myself.
I didn’t know what to say so I waited til he say something again.
“I’m not expecting you to believe me, but can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Would you allow me to prove to you my pure intentions?”
“No. I’m sorry. But if you want, we can go to your place and have a really nice sex. But after that, you can’t see me again.”
I said it in a usual tone of voice of the Ash that I really am—the Ash that breaks men’s hearts. But for the first time in my life, I kind of regretted that I said those words to him.
“I’m sorry I can’t do that.”
“What is? The sex or the idea of not seeing me again?”
“Both. I’ll see you again soon and will ask you the same question over and over again until you say yes to it.”
He uttered calmly as he stood up from the bench and said goodbye. I contemplated about stopping him and following him but I stayed as composed as ever. I glued my eyes to him as he walk away from me, leaving me perplexed with the last words he just said. I never liked a good guy. And a good guy never liked my bold and liberating way of life. That’s ridiculous. What am I supposed to do with this?
(This is in connection to my previous post A Psychoweirdo so I hope you read that one too. Thank you!)