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A TALE TO TELL

A TALE TO TELL

You know the worst part about letting a man cum inside of you? The waiting. For the woman, it has to be the waiting. We wait. Count the days. Count them again. Panic. Feel and over feel every little thing in our body. Then panic again. Then wonder, “What the hell am I gonna do?” Every day that passes beyond what it is supposed to, I think about how would I even begin to do have a child. Then remind myself I’m capable and I’ve figured out lots of things and will figure this out too. Probably alone, because the waiting is alone. What sucks is knowing the man goes off to work, hangs out with friends, f***s whoever is in his bed and doesn’t even have to worry. It most likely doesn’t even cross his mind again, aside from moments of arousal. It’s like a constant reminder it most likely didn’t matter at all and was a simple response to biology. You let it happen again not because you wanted to be pregnant, but because you wanted the man and literally, and maybe biologically, all of him. Those were the moments, the few moments he really and almost fully showed up. You could see it in his eyes- that look not only of intense desire, but of great fear…the kind of fear that makes you feel free…orgasmic. But it was more than that. You knew this man could almost only be vulnerable in these moments, that his life exists in between moments of adrenaline and melancholy. He loves a crazy girl because she can give him those things. Deep down he believes he is better than she is, so it’s comfortable…it allows him to continue to avoid his own darkness if he is worried about hers.

You feel a little crazy for even feeling this intensely, or thinking any of it, but you were a bit mislead with comments of “our kids” or “we” references to the future in little things, and maybe even a few big. And now, the hardest part is realizing you didn’t matter as much to him as he did to you. He actually even told you this, in so many words…but then a little time passed and your sort of forgot. He showed back up, knowing from times before, if you give wounds a little time, a little space- people, women sort of forgot what you did or said.

What’s sad now is to think I’ll be a tale to tell to some girl down the line. Maybe I’ll even be considered crazy at that point. But it will be shared with some sort of ego and that dimpled smile. I guess you won. You got my heart, but I woke up this morning for the first time in months and didn’t feel you connected to it anymore. It scared me, I didn’t like it… but I knew it was time, I finally let go.

 

 

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