Dec 232011
 

I want to use him hard, use him up, see him spent and damn-near broken, and that fucking terrible clock on the nightstand keeps on throwing me red warnings that my time is almost up. I can’t slow time by pushing harder, but I sure as hell try.

His only request is to make me come and I deny him that — not because I don’t want it — but because he does.

And he has to go soon. He has to leave me.

I want to hold him, to keep him with me, to tell him he’s a good boy and tell him that I might love him, a little.

The clock ticks away, closer to the time when we retreat to our separate lives and he’s no longer really mine. I start pushing him away — I’ll beat him to it — and I get quiet and angry and I want to tell him that I hate him a little too.

I know he can’t read me now — fuck, I can’t even read me — and there is no winning for him, for me. I know he thinks I’m not pleased with him and I seem incapable of telling him otherwise, telling him the truth. The problem is that I have so many truths and most of them conflict and I don’t want to burden him with the epic mess that is my thought process. It’s not his responsibility to sort me out.

He collects his things, leaves, and I fucking fall apart. I want him to come back and hold me, to tell me he loves me a little. I want him to tell me it’s okay to have pushed him hard, hit him harder, denied him hardest of all. I want him to tell me it’s okay.

I need to know it’s okay because I don’t know if it is. Are we okay? I’m not okay. I feel awful for having done what I did, feel awful for the satisfaction of it all, for the high it gives me. I feel guilty for having used him like a toy and I feel guilty for how good it felt.

He’s gone and I drink. I drink until I can’t see straight and I start writing drafts of notes to him. One starts, “I’m sorry…” Another starts “I had such an amazing time tonight…” Another starts “Please tell me you’re okay…” Another starts “I should tell you…”

And I’m drunk and sad and angry and I don’t finish any of them.

 

  5 Responses to “drop”

  1. "I need to know it's okay because I don't know if it is."

    I am exactly the same, so I can relate. But of course it boils down to communication, boring thing. You have to tell him what you need. He is probably angsting about his own part in it (not doing well, not pleasing you) and hasn't considered that *you* might need this kind of aftercare.

    Mostly, you both do. I find that not getting it and not giving it can sour experiences that could have been made sweet with gentle reassurance and pats.

    I sometimes feel like I am patronising you in my comments, I am sorry if it comes across like that. I just can relate and want to pick up the phone, dial J for you and hiss at each of you: "Fucking talk to each other!!". Heh.

    I hope it works out okay.

    Ferns

  2. Ferns: I haven't felt as if you're patronizing me–not at all! I appreciate your advice more than you know.

    And of course, you're spot on. I've had nights where a few well-placed words–mine or his–made all the difference. Those last few minutes can make or break it for me.

    I know I should talk to him, but I say too much, too soon. Besides that, I don't like starting a conversation without knowing where it's going. I'm still stuck in the not-knowing of whether this is a casual thing or if I want more. I don't want to ruin a good thing by trying to make it better. Boy… doesn't that seem sad?

    Ah… back to my wine and noisy brain. :)

  3. I'm not J, but I am a guy and I much prefer to be over-informed about what's going on inside a SO's head, to having to try and figure it out.

    (Especially when it sounds like the inside of your head is, mostly positive just kinda difficult to process.) …just saying.

  4. Ask for the reassurance you want.

    I do it all the time. After a scene where I'm inventively evil and mean, I'll say: "I need some reassurance. I'm worried that [for example] I really hurt you — and not in that fun way — and that you don't like me very much right now."

    Or whatever fits.

  5. @Peroxide: "I much prefer to be over-informed about what's going on inside a SO's head"

    But what if what's going on my head is a certifiable mess? It's always in the back of my head that he's experienced, and I am not–and that doesn't mean it's his responsibility to sort me out. What if your SO came to you and said "I love you, I hate you, I'm sorry, and I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing…"? That's about where I am. :) Um, I'm un-sort-out-able.

    @Lily: "Ask for the reassurance you want."

    I've tried as much. I get "I'm fine, Ma'am," and then it gets weird and I don't believe him. It may be his fault for not telling the truth, or it may be my fault for not believing him.

 Leave a Reply