rules. you told me yours the night we met. you were after a fuck buddy; someone you could stay with when you were in town, take her out, show her a good time, fuck her, then leave. no falling in love. i turned you down that first night.
i digested your rules. i liked them. they were honest, up front, no room for confusion.
so i made up my own rules and made a decision. you could help me. i invited you to lunch. we met. we ate. we drank, wine for me, beer for you. we played pool. then i told you my rules. i told you i was sexually abused as a child and i get triggered during sex sometimes. when that happens i’m transported back to the past and i need to stop, to be reassured, to be brought back to 2009. you listened. i asked if it put you off. it didn’t. we made an agreement.
you kept your word. i asked you to stop and you did. and we started again. then something went wrong. i arched at the wrong time and your cock rammed against my arse. it went in, only a small way, but enough to make me freeze and cry out in shock.
‘sorry,’ you said and i could say nothing. the pain was immense. i froze. you sat back and looked at me. i gasped for breath.
‘i can’t,’ i said. you laid next to me and wrapped your arms around me. my hands went to my face and covered it. i could no longer hold back the tears.
‘it’s me,’ you said, ‘it’s 2009. we’re here in this room together.’ i cried more.
‘what is it? tell me,’ you said.
‘you stopped. my dad wouldn’t have stopped.’
‘aye. i stopped.’
in the morning, it was different. it was light outside. i was on top. i came twice.
you jumped in the shower. i started to feel… what? uncertain, confused. i don’t know how to be around someone i’ve had sex with. i become hyper alert while trying to be nonchalant. i listen and watch for signs of rejection and coldness because i’ve linked sex with shame. it’s tiring. i forgot about this as a trigger, forgot to include it in our agreement, forgot to state that in the morning i might feel used and dirty despite being a consenting adult. these feelings are the ones that make me behave as if i’ve already been rejected and a piece of me recedes to a place where it can’t be hurt any more. autopilot.
i expect you to go cold, to not want me to touch you, especially in front of others because that is what i learnt as a child. instead you hold my hand; you hug and kiss me. i need to learn this. i don’t want your love but i do want your affection, especially in the daylight hours when it teaches me that i am not shameful. i want to reach out without shame, without fear and see what happens.
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