Losing Feeling

Losing Feeling 21, 2004

This is how it went down: He text messaged me out of the blue and I was not ready to hear from him or even what he had to say. I thought that it was my new guy finally checking in on me. However, I was not pleasantly nor sadly surprised. Just simply, surprised. So, I opened the phone and saw his name, because I still have him in my cell phone book, with the message that said, “I want to go with you to the toy store right now….I want you so badly”. I was so stunned. I had just taken two benedryl tablets and it hadn’t kicked in yet and before I knew what the hell I was doing, I had already begun to write back. “What? Really? Why? Oh my God I need to hook up with you so badly too.” I cannot explain it because I honestly had not been thinking about him. I was wondering where the new guy I had begun dating was and why I hadn’t heard from him. I felt like a puppet, as cliché as it sounds. I felt like he was jerking the strings attached to my fingers forcing me to write him back. We went on that way for about two hours, text messaging each other. Modern technology giving us the gift of not having to verbally communicate with each other. We never can say all the nasty stuff to each other face to face anyway.

I learned that he was drunk but not that drunk. I was sick but not that sick. Started to get drowsy but I indulged in the game. I was too curious and way too interested to stop. I never questioned what I was doing. Never really cared what I was doing or about what he was writing. It was all so salacious and lewd that it was highly amusing and thoroughly entertaining. He wanted me to “shave” his penis and balls. The benedryl must have put me in another state of mind because there was no reason for me to entertain anything from this man.

I asked him again. “Where is all this coming from?” When he texted me back, “cuz I’m feenin’ your body now.” I had to stop. I texted back, “Are you still in a relationship?” He responded simply, “yes”. I asked, “Do you love her? Do you plan on being with her for a while?” Not because I cared but more out of concern. I thought, How could you be craving my body when you are with hers on a regular basis? He asked me what that had to do with us? For the first time during our entire interaction, I felt emotion. I was so irritated. I had been trying to understand this man for so long. Trying to climb inside his head during each of our interactions and trying to decipher why he does what he does. You don’t know what this has to do with us? How about that fact that this is just wrong? That I don’t want to feel like your concubine. That I just don’t understand how you could be in a year long relationship with someone and only be faithful to them three months because you have been fucking me for the other nine. But I only told him half of this because somewhere in my mind I realized that it just wasn’t worth it and somewhere along the line, I just didn’t care anymore. I forced myself to stay up and talk to him to the point where my benedryl wore off. So I finally texted back, “where do u want to meet?” Fuck it! I said to myself. Let’s do the damn thing. I’ll fuck his brains out this one last time and change my number next week. I have asked him to leave me alone and he stays away but never permanently. It’s not me. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just that he thinks he is hurting me. Trying to get back at me for turning him down before he met her.

I meet him downtown. He does not even give me a kiss on the cheek but I am in man mode. I do not care. I mentally shrug the whole thing off. I start thinking am I doing this to erase, this other guy from my mind? The one that I have been pissed off at for the last month and half. The one that I have been semi-dating since February, who has not been giving me the attention that I want or deserve. Perhaps I am doing this because I just need a good night of sex, even though I already had a decent night of sex about three nights ago. I do not know. I just go with the flow. We find our way over to a sex toy store. I am half thinking that I don’t belong here. He is whispering in my ear, “I want to make you cum all night long.” I am thinking that his breath does not smell the freshest but I am here so who the fuck cares? We look at butt plugs, vibrators, impossibly, unnecessarily large dildos. We spy handcuffs. He is non-authoritative. Perpetually asking me what I want. “What do you want?” I ask back. I wish that he would just take charge and do what he wants to do. We get lube. Later on I learn that he wanted to do it in my “exit”. I never said I was okay with that. I wanted a vibrator because I should get one so I can stop playing this dangerous game. Maybe subconsciously I was hoping to render him useless in the bedroom. We get red handcuffs; the packaging of which he throws away en route to his apartment. We leave and make our way back home.

In the subway station, he tells me a story about how this bum was harassing him and his girlfriend. Usually he would have left her out but I guess all cards are on the table now. I listen, not particularly interested, inwardly rolling my eyes, wishing we were home already so we can get this whole shady, shifty thing over with. On the subway, he cuddles me. I never belonged with this man I realize. It is by default that our sex is as good as it is. At this point, it is astonishing that we still have good sex because I used to think that sex was all an extension of the intimacy of your relationship. A reflection of how deep two people gel together.

We get off a stop early because he wants a longer time to expose himself as we walk down the street. I used to think this was exciting. Now I am kind of bored and disturbed by the whole thing. I don’t get this. I don’t get this man. I don’t get why I am out here at 3:00 in the morning. He tries to hang his shirt on his penis. Naturally, that just doesn’t work. He wants me to give him a hand job while we walk down the street. I just, I just, Sigh I just want to get where we need to go. I am not turned on right now. I’m wishing I could be in the safety of my own home. I am wondering in the very back of my mind if my next boyfriend will be as shitty as he is to his girlfriend. . I pray silently for God to forgive me . . . I realize with this man, I have prayed this prayer so many times.

We get home and no sooner are we in the first door, when we start to hook up. I forget all my grievances. I give in when he takes my shirt off right in the front door of his building. I give in at the bottom of the stairs as he pins my arms above my head and kisses me all over. Turns me around. The cool wall feels so good against my hard breasts and I am transported somewhere else. I turn around and face him. The carefree-don’t-give-a-damn me, temporarily invades my body. I get down on my knees and do what I swore as a teenage girl, ten years ago, I would never do. However, my pubescent virtues have long wore off and he is calling my name. I stop because that’s enough. This is not about him tonight. It’s supposed to be about me.

We walk upstairs to his apartment. His penis hanging out, my shirt and bra off. We get in the door and I have to use the bathroom. All the usual suspects are in place: her toothbrush and her contact lens case. This time I just don’t care. I use the bathroom and wash my hands. Take a deep breath and think, “let’s do the damn thing.”.

He has changed into his grey boxer briefs. For some reason he thinks that, this is sexy to me. I realize that I am the master of inflating the male ego. A personal aspect I must work on changing. Anyway, we start grinding on each other and he is coaxing me to cum. “Javi” he pleads “Cum! Cum Javi, Cum.” And I do . . .

We roll over, on the carpet, to the tv stand where he handcuffs me to one of the legs but it hurts and he prefers that I wrap my arms around him. He likes when I grab his butt and the way I cradle his head, so he releases me. When we’re done, he kisses my wrists my hands, my shoulders, everything but my face. He tells me that he hasn’t been inside of me in so long. I asked him if that’s what he wanted. He says yes as he holds me the tightest he’s ever held me before. He breathes heavily and replies, yes. Says that I can sleep there a few hours before I go home. We start off in the bed spooning, hands intertwined. I wake up sniffling not really being able to breathe out of my nose and having a headache. I get up, put my clothes on and say good-bye. He says that he has medicine for me. I decline. I say I already have medicine at home. He says okay. He says that he hopes I feel better. I say thanks and leave. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel that euphoric feeling you have when you have really good sex. I just don’t feel. I pray one more time. This time I pray for his girlfriend . . .