While My Pen Gentle Weeps

I write a lot. I think writing has become more than therapeutic for me. It’s the only way I can freely express myself. It bothers me when I still spell simple words wrong. English majors shouldn’t misspell any word, ever. I guess it’s the fault of my generation not being able to advance beyond the one that came before it. Statistics show it. We just fall short.

I fell short this week. I behaved badly. I allowed myself to get sucked in by temptations web and I enjoyed it, but only for the moment. Actually, when I think back on it, I enjoy it all over again, but now I’ve had time to think. I didn’t go too far. I mean, look, I got hot and heavy with a “secret” person. In fact, we’ll call him Mr. Secret from now on. Mr. Secret surprised me. I didn’t know he was coming in and pulling out his experience and tricks. Why did I allow myself to get sucked in? Well, for starters, I started it.

It’s my fault guys and if I come crying back to you all, I accept your “I told you so’s” well in advance. Ok I know you guys are waiting for the details, so I’ll give as much as I can, granted that he is a big secret.

Mr. Secret is a good friend of mine. How we became friends, and what spheres we are in, I cannot indulge. Let’s just say he is an older friend and he knows for the most part, what women want. We had begun talking about things related to sex a few months back, and according to him, you could only talk about it with someone you feel comfortable talking with about it for a certain amount of time, before you want to find out what that person is like. Well I wouldn’t allow things to get that far. Unfortunately, I crave to know what he is like in that aspect, but I just can’t bring myself go there with him and get hurt. I’m very skeptical of the way other’s handle my feelings. Mouths are made to talk. I need solid, genuine actions.

Mr. Secret loves women. Aside from loving women, he’s got a few he balances and juggles in his daily life. How he does it, only God knows, but I am disgusted by it (me being a feminist and all). He’s never led me on to believe that he sees something special in me that would make him want to settle down with me, and he’s already told me my age was a factor. I never cared before, because I never thought of him in any way more than just my friend and mentor. I was never impressed by all the great things he had and his accomplishments. I was never impressed in his popularity and he never once crossed my mind as my future.Material things don’t matter much to me. Don’t get me wrong… it is certainly admirable.  We would flirt, but part of my lack of interest was his lack of interest in me. He seemed to be open to all types of women, and I’ve always wanted to know that there was something about me that made me special to any man.  We would share past relationship stories and even current “love life” situations with each other. He followed my tangled web of a tale when I was going through my ordeal with Mr. Yesterday (formerly known as Mr. New Guy). He was the one that gave me some great advice and helped me to see that Mr. Yesterday was just full of it. We have a great friendship that I don’t want to lose. Still, I fell short this week.

Mr. Secret and I were not even talking about our sexual desires or his sexcapades when I blurted out that I may need his assistance one day. My mouth just knows when to get me into trouble. Well Mr. Secret said he’d be willing to “taste” me that same night and I reluctantly took him up on the offer.

Was everything great?

Maybe the real question is, was everything worth it? I’m not sure. Before, I had this sense of power with him. I would never tell him that openly, but I was respected by him, and I had the ability to bob and weave him however I saw fit. We women have a leverage over men that way. They call it the “power of the pussy”. It’s very real. Then I fell short.

I wanted to ask him today what was so special with his rush. Normally I would be able to ask him where he was going and possibly even with who. Today, I watched him leave and wondered why I couldn’t speak, dumbfounded by my own silence.

I never saw myself with him. I never thought highly of his lifestyle and obsession with women. I never looked at him and thought I would sink into temptation, and that he would even allow me to go there. I honestly thought I wasn’t even a flashing thought in his mind.

We shared no real intimacy. We did not embrace. We did not kiss. It was strictly carnal and animalistic desire put to rest, like a dog being taken down. It was all fire and then it died. He assures me that he too enjoyed himself, and he wanted to get a second helping another time, but I doubt his sincerity. I also doubt that I would subject myself to such a thing as being made to feel good without being loved. I didn’t believe in it before, and I don’t see the sense in it now.

He lacks emotion. He isn’t moved by my words (no matter how beautiful I may construct them to be), nor does he show any favouritism towards me. I am no different from the women he sees and admires on the street and his allegiance to me is no different from any other woman he’s tasted. I do realize that I allowed myself to fall short. I feel a difference in our friendship that he cannot see. I am reluctant to call him. I fear that he will assume I am not handling what went down between us well and end our friendship, and that is a bit scary. “If she couldn’t handle a taste test, surely SHE could never handle penetration”, is what I believe he’d say, or maybe even “damn she just got a taste and started acting crazy”.

That’s my biggest fear.

I don’t want to be like the others. I don’t want to succumb to the stereotypes of women. I don’t want to start looking at him in any other way than my friend. I know possibly one day our friendship will end, as do most in our climb up the timeline of life. I guess everything happens for a reason. I just want to be on the receiving end of something good for once.

I just have one problem.

Now that I’ve fallen short, I wonder if I can stop my thoughts. I crave a moment again where I am made to feel like my body is the only thing that matters. I haven’t allowed that to happen in a very long time. Even more so than that, I have NEVER allowed myself to be pleased in such a way. I was shocked that I was so comfortable with Mr. Secret, because I allowed things that I would normally be a bit conservative about. Mr. Secret treated me with such a gentle kindness. He made sure not to make me feel uncomfortable, which I knew stemmed from his experience with women, but he is broken. Mr. Secret separates his emotions from almost all the women he deals with. He has mastered that art, and I don’t think he can ever snap out of it.

I’ve never been a fan of separating emotions from sex acts or sex. I really think the two go hand in hand. I am left to search my soul and find out why I now watch him when he exits a room. What the hell happened to me that night? I didn’t get drunk. I didn’t get caught up. I didn’t get shook up. He didn’t send me crawling up the ceiling like Spiderman. It wasn’t that great, was it?

My only relief is that I lose interest quickly and as of today, I am losing it. I don’t want to be the only person that has an interest when I know he will never be interested in only me. I don’t want to hate him because he isn’t capable of giving me more. I know without a doubt he doesn’t care, and I hate the fact that men can play with a woman’s mind because they know the art of seduction well. I still don’t know how everything happened, and how I slipped and allowed my mouth to get me into trouble. I can honestly say that I wanted it. I didn’t set out my day intentionally seeking it, but I wanted him. I won’t deny that part. I would have him again but I am just the slack he picked up once to add another notch to his belt he claims he no longer wears, but I know he does. What man doesn’t feel good when a younger woman they only thought they could conquer gives in? And I did just that. I fell short and all I want is for him to call and say “pick you up at 8”?

Carmen xoxo

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