30 Days of Truth: Day Eight

Day Eight - Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

*heavy sigh*

It was such a small, but such a defining moment, in a very brief affair. However, this was the one moment in my life when I had instant recognition of "that's wrong, so wrong," when I was completely taken aback with that Are-you-fuckin'-kiddin'-me?! feeling. I've never been so disappointed in anyone in my entire life, and it was over such a seemingly insignificant little thing. I mean, if my life was a movie, this scene is so boring that it would probably end up on the cutting room floor.

But. It was significant to me.

So, to set up this clip...

I was still grieving, heavily, over John's death. However, I needed to be touched. I needed sex, okay? Okay. (Let's just get that out of the way.) We were two consenting adults. He was available in a way that didn't require commitment, which was great since that was the last thing I wanted at the time. We were friends. He understood, (I thought) to some measure at least, the impact of what I was going through.

One afternoon after a somewhat mechanical sexual episode, I fell apart. I wept and wept hard. He held me as if I was a small breakable child. I couldn't believe how kind he was - my lover comforting me while I cried over the loss of a man I loved. Then, suddenly, he was on his knees in front of my face, naked, indicating that I service him orally, with a slight clearing of his throat and the line, "A little assistance, please."

I declined. Forever. That ended the affair.

We argued back and forth for a month or so after that (he kept insisting that I owed him an apology), but I never slept with him again. That moment made him completely ugly to me. Dead, rotted, maggoty ugly. Like that.

But it proved one thing to me. Even in grief, I know what I am. And what I am not.