I hate him, the manipulation of my emotions, playing me to bend (quite literally) to his will. The I love yous; the I remember that smile; that one damned conversation I have stupidly saved in my phone. All fake, all pretty little lies meant to twist me into what you want. What you want is a stupid girl who you can fuck without the confines of a relationship, and stupid little me didn’t realize it until I had turned into what you wanted. That isn’t me, well it wasn’t, but now it is.
That conversation still drives me mad you know. You probably don’t remember it, cause that’s not how you are. But I being a girl and it being genetically ingrained into me to remember menial things that should mean nothing, I remember it clearly. I’ll write it out for you, to see if it jogs any memories.
Y: They are with my new suit.
M: Guys who wear bowties can be, not the ties themselves.
Y: Am I?
M: On occasion yes.
Y: When are those occasions?
M: Lemme think for a minute.
Y: Alright.
M: There’s this smile you have, I can’t think of the context of it or the reason behind it, but there’s one smile that you have that I find sexy.
Y: When does it happen?
M: I can’t remember but I can see it.
Y: What do you like so much about it?
M: You just look happy and worry free.
Y: That’s a good smile. What’s your favorite feature? Non sexual.
M: Your eyes.
Y: I like yours as well. Sexual,
M: Thanks. Hands. You?
Y: I would say everything it’s hard to pick a favorite. But I’ll have to go with lips.
M: Nice.
Y: Any questions for me?
M: Not really. Do you have any for me?
Y: Let me think. And feel free to ask anything you want.
M: I will.
Y: Good. So what’s your feature that you look for?
M: In a guy? Someone who makes me laugh.
Y: I thought you all had a physical feature you look for.
M: Yeah we do. I didn’t know what you meant. I look for eyes.
Y: Sorry. I don’t see what’s so special about my eyes
M: They always say how you’re feeling even if you arent’.
Y: Every guy or mine?
M: Yours do more so than most.
Y: Alright. I just didn’t know what was so nice about them.
M: Well they’re my favorite feature. I’ve always liked them.
Y: Is that sexual or non sexual?
M: Non.
Y: What’s the sexual feature that you look for?
M: Hands. How a guy touches me.
Y: What do you mean by that?
M: Does his touch make me feel safe. Or does if scare me.
Y: Ah. So can it be comforting?
M: Yeah.
Y: Is that what turns you on?
M: Yes. Knowing that I can trust the guy with the most personal parts of myself.
Y: That makes you feel some kinda way?
M: Yes.
Y: Alright. Good to know.
M: Ok.
Y: Come up with any questions?
M: Why are your favorite features your favorite?
Y: Your eyes because I can see every part of you in them. And your lips let me know what I’m getting in to by how you use them.
M: Explain?
Y: Explain what?
M: The lips part. I don’t quite get what you mean.
Y: By the way you kiss or act or lick your lips I know what other things are going to be like and I know if you are enjoying what I’m doing.
Let me give you some background for the very confused reader. He and I have been friends for years but two months ago, we changed.
I had gone over to his house to hang out, nothing weird about two people who are best friends to hang out with each other outside of the confines of school. His girlfriend, my other best friend, had planned on coming with us, but in the end couldn’t. So we went over to his house to hang out. It being the middle of December I was frozen and shivering within minutes. He tossed me a blanket and I curled under it as I leaned against the end of the couch. He scooted closer to use some of the blanket and we ended up goofing around as usual, play fighting and tickling each other. Nothing unusual. Then the unusual happened. I noticed his hand creeping up my leg, from foot to knee.
“Is that ok?” He asked. And I nodded.
“Yeah.” And I shrugged it off and turned my attention back to the movie we were watching. I glanced over at him and he was not focused on the movie. His lip grasped between his teeth looking… guilty. “Are you ok?” He nodded and pulled his hand out from under the blanket. It took me a minute to add two and two together. Somehow I still think it came out to be five, I was in a fucking twilight zone. “We’re you just…?” He coughed, embarrassed, and nodded. I swallowed hard and jokingly said, “Dude go rub one out in the bathroom.” I laughed shakily and a little more than jokingly pushed him.
He laughed and pushed me back. Equilibrium was back, not. His hand had found it’s way higher on my thigh. He looked up from the conjuncture between my legs that his hand was creeping towards. “I’m sorry… I just got horny out of nowhere. I’m really sorry.” He coughed and his hand slid under the blankets again and his other hand attempted to creep higher again. I had been frozen in shock, but once his hand slide high enough to graze that conjuncture I unfroze, the reality of the situation hit me.
My best friend, who is dating my other best friend, is trying to get into my pants. Big no no. I shoved his hand away and shook my head as firmly as I could. “No, stop it.” He looked up at me sorrowfully.
“I’m so sorry…” He all but whimpered again. Pity overtook me.
“I’m sorry.” I said back. He gave me a pitiful look before pulling me into firmly into a hug.
“Dammit I’m so sorry. You have no idea.” He murmured roughly into my ear.
“It’s ok dude, boners are like, something you can’t really control.” I said, more rationalizing to myself than him. He hugged me tighter and didn’t let go. After a few awkwardly long moments I started to end the hug. I pulled away against his arms still trying to hold me in a hug. But my force wasn’t greater than the force pulling us together. His force stopped me with our cheeks grazing, sending tremors, ones that were a mixture of fear and anticipation, through me. His head turned slightly, his lips grazed my cheek, sending stronger tremors through me.
The line between best friends and more is a blurry, thin line. Even between us it had faded before into a failure of a relationship. What I pondered in the two seconds before his lips pressed against mine was ‘what does this mean for us?’
His lips pressed against mine and it set the ball in motion, a snowball gaining speed and force until eventually it’d blow up in our faces. But neither of us were thinking about that. We were only focused on the moment. Our lips crashing together in a primal way, trying to gain dominance over the other. Hands slid to crevices unexplored by the other until that moment. Gasps and groans were elicited from us both, and clothes were soon disappearing.
He stopped. I blinked trying to free myself from the lust induced mania that had taken me over. I didn’t have the time. His hand grabbed mine, tugging me up the stairs to his room. Door locked firmly behind us, there was no turning back.
Time wasn’t on our side, in thirty minutes his brother was being picked up, and then we’d be alone. But horniness waits for no one. He’d leave and check on his brother every five minutes to see if the guy had come to pick him up. That means I was left to stand in the iciness of his room, alone with my thoughts.
So many crossed my mind whenever he left. I thought of his girlfriend, my best friend, and the pain I’d cause her. But I didn’t care. I thought of myself, and how this would hurt me. But I didn’t care. I thought about how this would affect our friendship. But I didn’t care. All that I cared about was short term, right now. All these thoughts running through my head and the coldness of the room left me standing in the middle of his room shivering. I couldn’t function enough to make my way to his bed.
He came back into the room again, pressing his lips against my shivering ones. “Are you cold?” I nodded. He handed me a pair of patchwork sweatpants and handed me a blanket off his bed. “Put these on. Dammit could it take any longer for this guy to pick up my brother?” He joked in a rough voice. Not waiting for a response he pressed himself against me in everyway possible. Pressure on my thigh and lips drove me mad, and kept me from thinking too much.
I wanted to stop thinking. Twisting my fingers into his hair made me stop. Our lips clashing together, fighting to be the dominant one, made me stop. Him pushing me to his bed and pinning me down made me stop. But when he disappeared my mind came back, my thoughts with it.
The next time he came back he pressed something into my hand. Pulling my rational thought together long enough to realize it was a condom. If I agreed to this there was no turning back. “Do you want to?” He asked me softly. This wasn’t a coercive voice; this was one asking me what I really wanted. Did I trust him enough to take that one thing that wasn’t his to take? He could take my homework and copy it. He could even cheat off me in a test. He could take all those things, but this was something that wasn’t his to take. It was mine to give away to the man I trusted the most in the world. It took me two seconds to decide.
“Yes. I do.” In that span of time I’d just given myself away to him, the most precious thing a girl can give away. Something she’d only give away to the man she trusted the most, and he was, and is.
“Are you sure you want me to?” He said pulling me closer. I nodded.
“Yes. I want you to. I want you.” I murmured to him.
“Do you want me?” He asked.
“Yes only you.” I said as he pressed his lips against mine hard, before pulling reluctantly away.
“Finally the guy is here. I’ll be back in two minutes.” He said as he rushed downstairs to rush his brother out the door. He came back up the steps for the last time and pressed himself against me again, lips, everything. He pulled me to the beanbag in his room and laid the blanket down, then me on it. He loomed over my scantily clad body, my chest rising up and down rapidly. He kissed where he could reach, kisses going up and down my body. From my lips to the conjuncture between my legs, every one of them making me shiver and moan. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” And my response was this: I pulled his head down and kissed him firmly on the lips and murmured,
“Only you.” And with that the course of events was sealed. The crinkle of a wrapper, the utterly adorkable crinkle of his brow as he made sure he put the condom on right, and the look right before he slid into me. The first blush of pain and the crinkle of my brow. I turned my head away so he couldn’t see. Yet he did.
“Are you okay?” He said tilting my head back towards him. “Does it hurt?” I murmured a hoarse yes and he pulled out. I looked up at him, and a feeling of rejection over took me in the span of time it took him to pull out and to pull me to him again. The second his hands were on me that feeling dissipated into the back of the blur of emotions rolling through me. “Maybe we could try you on top, it might hurt less.” I nod and now it’s him under me. I angle myself above him and he slides in again. Whispers. Then murmurs. Then shouts of pain run through my body and I bite my lip and turn my head away again. This time he doesn’t turn my head back to him. When the shouts tone down I look at him. His eyes closed in ecstasy and his hands are on my hips, ready to begin.
Unfortunately this pair, like all pairs of star-cross'd lovers are not meant to be. We did, but didn’t. If that makes sense.
There’s your back story, of how we got here, now let me tell you where this led us. It led us to that conversation before, those lines vibrate around my head, driving me mad. In those moments the line between friends and more was so blurred and ambiguous it was laughable. Ha, it was laughable. To think you’d ever want me, me as more.
You don’t love me, you never have, never will. You don’t love me in the way I need to be loved, dammit how I know you can love me. You had me fooled for a long while as you crafted me into the girl you wanted. Unfortunately for me, the girl you want isn’t me, yet you still got her. I hate you for it, but then I don’t.
I hate you for not wanting me for me, for not loving me for me. I hate being something I’m not, just to provide for your carnal needs. I became someone I’m not, just for you, yet it means nothing to you I’ve lost myself. But boy you played me good. You had me utterly convinced that what was going on between us was more, that you wanted more. You didn’t though. You played me like a fool and used me. You played with how I felt to fulfill your needs, leaving me whiplashed and lost and so alone.
The manipulation of my sanity is more than I can handle, so this is it. The toying with my already trampled self esteem and decimated emotions. But that’s not the worst part. The worst is the memories, the residual of you on my psyche. Imprints of you left on my mind drive me mad. Mad. Mad at myself for becoming your little play thing. Mad at you for driving me so mad. And then I take it out on myself. Directly and indirectly you’re the cause of my self destruction.
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