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My diabolical plan to ease my bf into light BDSM did not happen. In fact, far from.
I’m in his basement, holding him against me, while he cries and shakes uncontrollably. He is saying he’s scared. He hasn’t felt well…a lot lately. I am tempted to say because my natural response to “ill” people has been to immediately comfort them, to cuddle them, and to soothe. He’s observed this many times and I happen to know his mother never did that for him.
I sigh heavily as the man I’m dating once again transforms into a frightened little boy, and I into his mom. It draws immense compassion from my heart, and twisted revulsion from my brain. Subconsciously I know I resent his lack of strength, the kind of male fortitude I find so appealing in a mate. I’m also frustrated because I just told him I have a UTI and I feel like shit…
Of course he calls in sick, which means I definitely can’t. I have to pee every 15 minutes and the antibiotics are making me woozy, but looks like I’m powering through. I hold him as he starts verbally beating himself up for fucking that girl, saying he’s terrified that he’s given something really bad to me, but I detect a hint of falseness.
His shaking is inconsistent, he doesn’t have a fever at all…is this over the top acting? It’s just bizarre because we came across a lot of people not feeling well yesterday, including myself…
Anyways, I drive him to urgent care, knowing I’m going to be fucking late for work. I try to be nice to him, buy him water, order him to keep sipping, and fill out his patient forms. He’s an asshole to the nurse at the counter, just like he’s an asshole to every stranger we meet who he feels is inferior. I loathe how he treats people, how he treats me.
I smile apologetically at her.
They find nothing. They say he’s overstressed and has a cold. My insides twist.
I take another pregnancy test, just for fucking peace of mind, and know in my heart that negative sign has released me from KB. I will never have physical relations with him again. He mentions not having sex for a while, that we need to slow down and take a break from it.
I ask if we should just take a break period.
“No baby, you’re a good thing in my life.”
I tell him he needs a physical break and I need an emotional break. I leave it there and wonder if he’ll be in denial I said this, but I mean it. I care about this boy, but I do not love this man. Sex is pretty damn important to my wellbeing, and I’m losing my mind over his constant dramatic instability.
I feel like he’s faking sick to twist my motivation to take care of him. Exploiting the part of my nature that seeks to nuture. It’s is gutting one person into giving too much to the other.
It’s over…I’ll keep my birth control in for another week and then consider taking it out, but I’m done.
I feel so sober inside as I go to work. KB was on the couch playing grand theft auto as I left. Selfish little boy. It’s the kind of resentment I have for him when he complains for an hour about work, I tell him to communicate to the boss, and he says no. He just likes to kick up negative dust everywhere.
I’ll ease him out of it too. He asks me to please come over after work, and though I’m dead tired I sneak downstairs where he’s snoring. I lay with him for a while, and he won’t say anything to me.
“Baby, lay off the marijuana, D has a friend who had the same kind of symptoms from too much of that stuff, for a whole week.”
I lay with him for a bit, but my mind is made up. I’m never spending the night again. I tell him I love him and that I’m driving home. He sighs and goes back to sleep.
I climb back into my jeep and blast the heat, it’s fucking cold now. Winter is at the door and I fucking hate it. I have to be back at work in six hours. I drive like a banshee home to my house.
But really I’m just a worn out jaded lover.
StArViNg MaDnEsS 