You come to me in the night. Or I go to you. No matter where we go, it feels like I go to you. And you get my mind, my body and my soul. You get all of me and I pretend it means nothing because that’s what you want. And we drink wine in your one-bedroom and we laugh and we talk and you smile with your stupid smile because that’s what we do.
And we fuck. We fuck hard, slow, in my mouth, in yours, on the couch, in your bedroom and it feels so good and I want more and I kiss your mouth and you kiss mine and it’s gotten so much better. Because you have finally given me your soul and I can feel it through your breath and your gaze and your dick. It ends with a final thrust, a moan, a grunt and you collapse like a breaking wave. And the physicality of it meant nothing. I had you in my arms if only for a moment.
Then the longing washes over. I look at your grin from the orgasm that made you feel whole. You’re thrilled, you’re proud, you’re complete, you’re fulfilled. You hug me and kiss me and pull me close but I am no use to you right now. My body was used for what you wanted and now I am a pretty girl whose skin feels good against yours.
But I need more. I tell you that I’m not cut out for this. You tell me we’ve discussed this before and you just can’t commit. Work is crazy and your ex-girlfriend screwed you over and you’re just too fucked up right now. And you smile with that stupid smile. Because I am a pretty girl that gives you orgasms and feels good against your skin but still, you can’t commit. I swear to myself I’ll cut you right off like a hangnail that stings but feels so good.
Still I whine about leaving at 7 AM because you have to get in early and I wait for you to change your mind about not being able to commit. Because look at me I’m a pretty girl who lets you cum in my mouth and feels good against your skin. And you don’t change your mind and you don’t beg for me to stay. You tell me how fun last night was and how pretty I am and you hint for me to leave. I tell you to please text me soon and you smile at me with that stupid smile and you say okay.
And then I don’t hear from you the next day. I send you a text and you reciprocate and I know you think about me naked. But do you think about my laugh, my quirks, that funny story I told you about work? And you don’t text me on a Wednesday to tell me how smart I am or to say hi. And you’ve always been honest with me about how pretty I am and how good I feel but you just can’t commit.
And I am pretty, I am smart, I am funny and I am kind. Yet you spit on my heart and you chew up my brain and you suck all the juice from my skin. I should not respond to your texts, I should block your number on my phone but I know deep down that I love you. I love you and your red hair and your big penis and your stupid smile. And the way you listen to the words that come out of my mouth. And yet none of it matters. Because you can’t commit.
It’s called a pattern and I have one and I guess you do, too. But this pattern of ours leaves me feeling empty like a bucket and angry like a bull. Because I don’t get what I need from you to make me feel whole. I get sex at 2am but I never get all of you. I don’t get your soul other than during sex, and what if you don’t have a soul? What if you are as heartless as you think you are? But I know you’re not and that with me you could feel complete.
What I do need to do is break the pattern. So I’ll do this. I’ll stop answering your texts. I’ll block your number and I’ll tell you to fuck yourself when you disrespect my mind, my body and my soul. I’ll take control of the situation and meet someone who longs for me for far more than my soft skin and my trembling body. I’ll be more than a pretty face. Because I am. And I deserve to be treated as so. No matter how much I love you and your stupid, stupid smile.