Okay, so in this post I am going to go to a bad place within me and my past. If you’d rather not know or read this then may I suggest you go here, to one of the greatest comic strips online. Yes, I have linked you to the first one. And I’ll see you tomorrow…
Still here?
After my heart broke I became a different person that stopped hoping for hearts and flowers and well… became a fairly self destructive human being. I did not enjoy being happy as it would only be a precursor to feeling like crap. I was one of those people. I stopped taking my anti-depressant-stress-reducing-numbing pills and decided I would spiral for a while; y’know, just to see what it was like.
During some of the bigger spirals I would exit stage right from concerned friend land, put on something potentially revealing and end up in a club, where I would find me a man who was stringless and try to feel something else. I would deliberately put myself into some bad bad situations because I genuinely believed I was worthless and set out to prove it… in an oddball kind of way.
Well, you can imagine. It didn’t matter what I did or who I did it with I would just feel worse and worse about myself… ach encounter perfuctory, each receiving some kind of satisfaction, anonymous, this meant I would put myself in more dangerous positions… and the years ticked by.
The internet helped me achieve the really stupid.
So it got to one night about four years ago when I was chatting with some guy - IM-ing back and forth the old hat clichéd things we would do to one another if we were in a room together… Where are you? he asks and I tell him. Oh wow he says I’m about two miles away.
So I do what any stupid worthless imbecile does - I give him my address. 10 minutes later he comes round - the kind of guy you would normally cross the street to avoid; he looks like the words ‘bar fight’ mean the same as ‘Saturday night’.
I make him a cup of coffee and try to pretend like this is all normal while he drifts round my small flat, picking my things up and looking at them. Small talk occurs and then he starts to read lines from the chat window still open on my computer screen, and he slides the straps of this ridiculous satin nightie off my shoulder, exposing my breasts which he starts to fondle.
"Make me come"
The words on the screen which felt so bland earlier are now feeling erotic as all hell and I reach down and undo his jeans. He pushes me down in front of him and holds my head while I stroke his dick, wanting this as it will make me feel something else but also being ever so slightly bored… and tired…
I lean forwards to begin what looks like a quick blow job, but he decides he is control (one of the things I loved about giving head is that we are pretty much in control and he takes it away) and as soon as my mouth has slid over the tip he slams it in, blocking my airway and causing me to gag. He is pulling my hair back and forth and a thought goes through my head that I am nothing more than a doll to him. He comes quickly and pushes me away so I land back on the floor hitting my head on the computer desk behind me. He continues to come on me and grunts,
"Is that what you wanted?"
I am coughing and can’t speak which he takes as the affirmative. He smiles and leaves, waving. 15 minutes later he’s IM-ing me about coming round tomorrow. I feel nothing for the first time in ages, and I can’t see the face of the one who broke my heart. I say yes.
A month later I moved.
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