I'm not sure when I let these walls come crumbling down.
I used to be so cynical of men. I miss you, I'm thinking of you, I love you... lines, all of them. I could never believe a man, never trust one. I felt like everything they said was just a lie to get me into bed. I hardened, I pushed them away - I'd rather they were just honest about it. That's why I lost my virginity in a club bathroom, and don't regret it at all - it was on my terms, it was honest, it was real. It wasn't some fairytale romance, it wasn't fireworks and earth-moving, it was just what it is. And that was all I wanted. We're horrible, men. Just so you know. Not all of us, of course, but I'd advice caution and cynicism.
I was assaulted once. Spiked drink, dragged up an alleyway, forced to give a blowjob that made me cry and vomit and push and bite - and I have a scar on the back of my head from being bashed against the wall when I tried to stop. He gave me a painful handjob while I slurred 'stop, stop, stop' to deaf ears. It was Rich who held me the next day, looking over the bruising and swollen lips and blood stained clothes, and asked me 'who did this to you?' over and over until I cried and told him to stop yelling, and he stopped, held me until I literally fainted with the stress and shock.
If I'd been cynical before, I was phobic now. I still am, sometimes. I can't go to gay bars, I panic because someone will touch my arm, and I'll yell 'get your fucking hands off me!' at some innocent guy just trying to be nice to me. I was on the bus the other day, I hate the bus, it was so crowded because of a football match, and I was sitting down, there was a man standing, getting shoved toward me because of the crowding, his crotch right in my face, and I couldn't breathe - I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth and tried not to faint. And I know, of course it isn't healthy, and I know that he wasn't going to do anything to me, it was just the memory, the feeling of complete helplessness, weak and useless.
And so, I don't know why Rich's lines work on me. Perhaps because that trust is already there, has been there for nearly a decade. I wasn't scared, I'm never scared of him, I don't feel sick and anxious... I know that he would never intentionally hurt me. Perhaps it makes it harder to say no - the feeling that... I have nothing to fear.
But tonight was different - I wasn't scared, I was just... sad. Empty, almost. I started crying, and I asked him to stop - the word catching in my throat - it made me feel safe to think that stop would mean stop to him, but suddenly putting it to the test was terrifying - what if he failed me? But he didn't fail me. He stopped, eyes wide and concerned, urgency in his tone as he asked me what was wrong, why was I crying. 'Everything, just everything.' Strange for him to be comforting me for a change. 'I can't keep going like this. You don't love me, you'll never love me.' I tried to move, to just walk away, and he wouldn't let me. I don't really know what he said, it was like white noise behind my hysterics. 'I never wanted to hurt you' stood out. 'Don't fucking touch me!' I screeched, just like a he was another stranger, and he held his hands up, waited for me to calm down before slowly reaching out to me again, slowly like taking a gun from a madman.
He just kept apologising, I'm not sure he even knew what for anymore. "I never wanted you to feel that way." I know you didn't, love, but I do. I just want my best friend back again. I'm mourning the death of someone who is still right here, and I don't think he can even see the problem.
But once he could see how badly I was reacting, I saw hints of my former friend in his questioning. "Why are you crying? What's wrong? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you like this...." It's just that last time, he wasn't the one doing the hurting.
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off to bed now talk soon x x x x x♥Lacy
