The last time I met up with him was in August. It was just before I had minor surgery. Actually, the day before. It was the last time I’d be able to meet with him until I was off meds and could drive again. He told me he had something important to tell me and that it had to be told in person. I managed to get away from my parents and go. It was so stupid.
When I got there, it was the usual procedure. I go to Starbucks, he’s there, he gets in my car, we “talk”. He started talking and said that he loved me and wanted a second chance. Well, at this point it was more like a hundredth chance. He said he’d changed. That World Youth Day had changed him for the better and that he saw all the wrong things he’d done. I said I was afraid that what had happened the last few times would happen again. He promised it wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be into another girl within a week. He wouldn’t throw me away like trash.
Bullshit.
But I fell for it. And as usual, my clothes started coming off. Never his though. He never did anything for me, whether I wanted it or not. It just wasn’t an option. Somehow, I ended up with nothing but my underwear. But this time, for the first time, he took off my bra. He threw it under the car seat and wouldn’t let me have it back. And then he just stared at me for a while. I guess I was “beautiful”. That felt good, no matter how uncomfortable I felt. He’d convinced me to let him see me like this before, just never without the option of me covering myself. I was totally exposed and he was between me and my clothes. Almost all of them. I literally had nothing left but a tiny scrap of cloth between my legs. Which I suppose Victoria secret models are ok with, but not me.
Of course he kissed me everywhere. And despite the feeling, I was still uncomfortable. Deep down, I don’t think I believed what he’d promised me. And deep down, I was afraid. Of him. I still tried to cover myself with my hands, but eventually he pinned them to my sides. And he liked that, and definitely let me know. So it was futile to say no at that point. As long as he was happy, I should be happy, right? I’d already pushed so many boundaries, what more was another? But I was so vulnerable. Honestly, looking back, that was the most dangerous. He could’ve easily gone farther, and I’d be helpless. Thank God he didn’t.
I asked for my clothes back several times. Each time, the response was “just a little longer”. He physically wouldn’t let me have them until he’d had his fill of me. We said goodbye, and I went home believing that maybe we would work out. That maybe this time, I’d be ok. This time, someone really loved and wanted me. Silly girl.
I had my surgery, and we continued texting, but suddenly he got very curt in his responses. The first night I was off my meds, we talked on the phone. He told me he was in love with another girl. And that he had said “I love you” just to get me to go further and do things with him. He said that. Out loud. As I sat under the shadow of a full moon and cried. Then he said I’d be fine, that he no longer wanted to talk to me, and goodbye. I was heartbroken. I could finally drive again, so I ran away to my friends house where my best friend was, and cried out my broken heart through the strains of a panic attack.
I’m not sure if this time would be considered assault. I did try to stop him, but this was the time it was only physical. And even at that, I didn’t try hard. It was the last time. It was over.
There is more to the story, but it is mostly things I still have to fill in the gaps with or get out of my system. The last posts have been the major plot points in this portion of my life, with the exception of tech week. Tech week was a mess and is still blurry. I’ll get that out as it comes to me and as I need it to come out.
As for what happened next, he ignored me. He didn’t talk to me or text me again for a month. If I had done that to him, he would have been furious and guilted me into talking to him. But I tried a few times, and he had no interest, so I just let him ignore me. In hindsight, its part of what helped me completely get over him. It had taken six days to decide he didn’t want me and move on from what we did. From what he did. Just like clockwork. It was exactly what I was afraid of. And what he’d promised not to do. But it was the last time.