The Break Down: Sex, Love & War

It's planned. It's not a matter of me knowing what I want. I know. Its a matter of how am I going to get it against all odds. To get what you want in life you must be unapologetically vicious. You have to know that what you want is no mistake. You have to know that you are being called towards it. Only pus*ies don't answer their call.
I remember it like it was yesterday, how I ended up here. Before you can understand why my attitude is the way that it is now, you have to understand the breaking point. Allow me to paint this pathetic picture of?who I once was...


I can feel his body move. Small breaths causing his bare chest to move up and down with tense?rhythm. Only on this full sized bed we are close. I shift my body in aggravation, one leg closer to his and one arm?close to his face so that I feel his breaths on my skin. He gets up and goes to the shower. I stretch myself over my bed and mourn. I know he is going. The water runs and I scan the room. His phone lay face down at the foot of my bed. I grab it for the last time.
Locked. As always. The top bar has several notifications of texts and voicemails and missed calls. All from her. All from the girl I saw him text back while I sat beside him in my car.
"Would you like to drive?" I offered.
For our 5 year relationship I've never let him drive my car. If he crashed it then how would he pay for it? I was the one in college with a supportive family. He didn't have a thing to offer me?except company. Broke guys will talk to you all day long. My dad brought me this car and was still paying for it. I didnt want him to know that I was letting my broke as* boyfriend jeopardize what he gave me for my good grades when he couldnt even fill the gas tank or change the tire. I let him drive though, to keep his hands off of his phone.
I sat in the car from Brooklyn to D.C. without saying a word. I let the music play and watced the traffic because I was a nervous wreck from letting him drive my?dad's?that far. In my mine it was still my dad's car and he was unworthy. I was only worthy because I bust my ass to?stay on the deans list. I earned that reward. He earned a passenger seat.
?He was happy driving but it was still over.
The shower stopped running.
He stood before me wet with is boxer briefs pulled over his manhood. Chest hair curly and wet. His curls?soaked and tightly coiled to his head. His eyes deep and piercing, shoulders back, mouth wide. He towered over my bed where I lay. He stood there in silence while we looked at each other. His body is so familar to me I claimed it. Every hair every beauty mark and mole I've felt. His thick neck i've kissed and sucked. His lips were mine. I can still taste the salivia in my mouth from his sloopy wet kisses that would make anyone want to spit. The veins in his skinny body protruding down his arms like tracks and his big wide fingers on his large hands. Wide shoulders, thick steel arms. His copper tone from head to toe, perfectly sun kissed. He looked like he could be my brother. Like my twin like we shared a womb. How close i've been to this body and how much he has been in mine. His thick eyebrows relax above his eyes like pillows. His nose long and wide with a scratch mark still at the bridge from our last fight. His hairy long legs down to his large clown like feet that he quickly put socks?on to hide the shame of his gout. ?He had a way about him that allowed him to mask himself as still art. Striking. Captivating. Mysterious. Although with us that mystery was gone. I've seen the monster. The abuser. The cheater. The manipulator. He'd say the same. The thrill was gone. What was left was a broken pair so obviously wrong for each other but with so much history one could write a text book. How often do you cry with to and for someone? How often do you call someone 22 times and fill their voicemail box? How often does someone drop everything and take the bus from New York to D.C. just because you said you were lonely?
I did not think I could lose that connection even though it was already gone.
"Can you use your card to order my bus ticket? My brother said he would but he needs too..."
"Its cool i'll do it" I said cutting him off.
I saw the shame in his eyes. Someone older than me could not afford a $25 bus ticket. A shell of a man. He doesn't sell dope anymore. How do you go on the straight and narrow and make it without a HS diploma? I taught him about nouns and adjectives and where to sign up for his G.E.D and how to enroll in community college. He taught me how to protect myself navigate the streets of NYC, train by train and block by block.
"Look people in the eye while you speak and never cross the street when you see a crowd, walk through it with your head up and you won't be a target" I remember him saying. "Keep this mace in your purse and use it?if anyone tries to do anything to you, then you let me know and I will kill them, you hear me woman?"
He sat at the foot of my bed quietly for a few minutes.
"It wasn't right to have sex with you last night" he finally said.
"I jerked off in the shower to stop it from happening again. I think we should sleep on opposite ends of the bed" he suggested plainly.
I sat quietly, raging inside. I couldn't argue because I knew it was over. It was our last night together though, why not make the best of it and go at it one last time? He always lacked my kind of sense. I tossed and turned all night sexually and mentally frustrated. Defeated. He slept like a baby.
The tears came like a faucet when we arrived at the bus stop in D.C. the next morning. I was losing. He was leaving, free to go back to her. Free from me. This was the last time I was ever going to see it. I cried because of failure. He moved back and forth in the passenger seat noticeably uneasy. He would always cringe when I cried. It hit a spot in him that he never wanted to face. Me crying was something he often caused yet never wanted to be subjected to. With eyes?wide he?pressed his lips together like he was smelling something foul. He grabbed his backpack from the back seat.
"Stop crying" he whispered. We sat there, him silent, me crying until the bus pulled up in front of us and the costumers started to line up. I don't remember what he said next I only remember grabbing his hand and pleading.
"Don't go, please don't go, I love you, I love you"
He snatched his hand back and left.
I feel bad about how I left you, I could of at least given you a hug SMH, was the text message I received 20 minutes later. That was how our 5 year relationship ended and I never saw him again. That was?under?two years ago. And oh yeah, the girl he was texting, they just celebrated their two year anniversary. You do the math. That type of weakness from your first heart break will change you. Maybe even make you crazy...

That is the last time I didn't get my way. Let me tell you know I flipped the?script..


Part 2

When you start out with a chip on your shoulder you're destined to fail. No one wants to know that though. The experience is always the best teacher.
"How many times can you facebook stalk your ex before it gets creepy" I asked Jilly, staring at my computer screen.
"The first time!" she shouted from in bathroom. The door opened and?Jilly tilted her pretty head out to look at me, brown curl bouncing down her left shoulder,
"When the numbers hit double digits"?a smiled touched her lips.
I sighed. I searched the internet for more clues of his life without me. What did I have to show for myself? Before I fell deeper in that rabbit hole?Jilly returned from the bathroom.

"I have someone I want you to meet!"
In retrospect I feel a quite guilty. My first victim never saw me coming...

Part 3

How soon do you want to meet someone after you lost at love??Dramatic?I know. The truth is always dramatic because it is never coated in sugar. Its the truths that make us most uncomfortable. There is no wonder or hope in truth. It is just a sting of certainity that takes all control. I've come to prefer the sweet taste of lies. Lies give you control. Being in love was a loss of that control that will never happen again. Time to take it back.
I could have asked Jilly about who she wanted me to meet tonight but why? I do not need a man for the charity bin to pull me back into the pits of hopeless devotion. I am capable of?attracting my own man anyway. The sun turns my skin into buttery toffee every summer. My hair waves down my back one chestnut lock at a time. My eyes large and accepting, alluring even. Mom would say I?look like i'm going?to sing a love song. My top lip is slightly bigger than my bottom, full and curved with a cupids bow?I learned to love after seeing Rihanna's lips cover Vogue. Beauty marks sprinkle my face and neck like freckles. I'm tall like my father is in his pictures. My brows sink down above my eyes just like his, strong and full. No one looks like me. The first step in controlling your fate and taking your victims: Believe that you look better than any other breathing being. Stare in the mirror.?Internalize it. Then pick out a dress for this damn party.

Ready in 10- I text Jilly. It's almost time. I smiled at myself. A true smile of a lying Empress.

@smudge14? Thank you! It is a story. Keep checking back and reading! :)


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