John Mayer
As the sweat keeps dripping and the sound of skin slapping together get quicker, I close my eyes and make wish for things to be over soon. This is all I knew of Love.
"Why does it smell like this all the time?" I thought.
Even though I knew the answer, stupid questions like that tend to help keep my mind off of the situation that was unfolding above me. This poor man pounding away like his life depended on it and I cannot even feel a thing. The only think I can sense is the eyes of the people in the room and without even looking, I feel a third hand caressing my calves.
Oh jeez, please don't... Sir, can you please hurry... I wonder if they hire people to clean this place or do, they do it...
"Arrrrgggg!"
I open my eyes when I hear the long grunting noise. I know this sound too well. I wish I didn't, but I've heard this sound over the course of my lifetime more than I care to count. I quickly move my legs down, basically kicking off the third hand that was about to run up the rest of my leg and when he gets up, coldness grazes over my nipples and I glance at the tiny open window.
As he rolls over and I fake a smile out of pity, he grabs a towel and says, "you were great."
Of course, I am. This is literally what I do. He didn't even realize that I was not getting off to anything he was doing. But, story of my life, nobody ever notices. The only thing they care about are the holes I have to offer and the fact that they got laid that night. The thing was, that I wasn't here because it was my idea. My boyfriend decided for the both of us early on that we like it when I am intimate with other people. Men, woman, and I'm sure even a cow if he decided.
That's how sick I was. That was how mentally disturbed I was, that I let someone decide how I was treated. Even when I didn't agree, I just did it, knowing damn well that I hated it and hated myself even more for being this type of person. I was ruining my own life, and I was drowning.
I hurried up and found my panties. The lace ones I always had to wear. These were never comfortable for me, but it did make my ass look good when I wore them. I was told that lace always made women look and feel sexy but that wasn't my opinion. Sure, they were eye catching, and it made you feel like you can please a man by just wearing it. That's how it's supposed to make you feel right? For me, it was more like a uniform I had to put on and every time I slip this material on my body, I lose all feeling and I am suddenly numb. It was easier that way. If I didn't feel, then I couldn't be sad about it. Again, I was sick.
It's a little after 2 AM and I am exhausted. I look over the passenger seat and see my boyfriend sleeping. Gross. I don't think you're supposed to think the person you "love" is gross. Not in the way that I do. The drive home was fast because I could not wait to get out of these stupid uncomfortable clothes. I park the car in the driveway and wake him up.
"We're at my place," I said. Although it feels silly to call it "my place" when I'm just renting a room.
"I forgot that I have to go home tonight. I forgot that I have to meet someone tomorrow so they can pick up the car." He says.
I sit there suddenly feeling relived that I don't have to sleep with this creature. I know he's lying. He always lies. But part of this sickness is ignoring the lies and pretending that you're okay with it. Even if he wasn't lying, I would still think he was. He did rent out his cars, but I didn't trust him. A part of me never did.
"Okay, just text me in the morning."
"You know I'll text you; you don't have to tell me!" He says, irritated.
I get out the car and enjoy the cold air hitting my skin. I love it when it's freezing outside. The feeling of being so cold that your body feels like it will fall into a million pieces if you don't cover it all.
I unlock the door to the house and hear the tv in the living room mumbling about something that's happened on the news. It's probably Mr. Clock. He's always up and only sleeps during the daytime. I didn't know until later that it was because he was up doing cocaine at night. This is his house, and I was just renting a room. There are 2 other women in this house besides me and they are well over their 60s. One has a gambling addiction and the other one is so stuck on hustling men, that she doesn't realize the man she has now, is hustling her. Thankfully my daughter spends the weekends at my parent's and I'm grateful that she never has to see me when I come home after nights like these. Saturdays are usually the nights where my body belongs to someone else. Not that I had any respect for it anyways.
I sneak upstairs and hurry to the bathroom where I undress and ignore the mirror. I never liked looking at myself after this. I feel embarrassed, stupid, and disappointed. I jump in the shower and genuinely smile for the first time, when the hot water hits my face. I wash all the make-up from my face and scrub the night off with the loofa until my skin is bright red. It wouldn't make a difference. I'd still be dirty. I turn off the water and grab a towel. I slowly wipe the warm water droplets from my body and wrap my hair. I pick up my clothes off the bathroom floor and put my ear to the door before opening it. The last thing I want right now is to run into Ms. Jay in the hallway and getting pulled into an hour-long conversation about she is done with her man, but she just says that because he tricked her again and she's upset.
It was quiet except for the TV downstairs. I opened the door and quietly walked to my room. I throw my clothes into the dirty bin and grab a big old shirt and clean underwear. I put them on and open the windows to my bedroom so the cold air can once again touch my skin. I've heard from old folks that if you sleep with your hair wet while it's cold that you'll get a headache or get sick, but I didn't care. I needed to sleep. I needed to escape. I turned off the lights and crawled into bed. I laid there for a while and tried not to let the images from the evening flood my mind. I turn on Pandora and put on John Mayer's "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" and listened until I drifted off into the nightmares that are better than my own reality.
