3.6 Taking Back What’s Mine
[Warning: this post contains adult content]
After texting every single day, not talking to Mark was weird. He broke up with me on the Saturday, and come Wednesday I couldn’t help it. I was broken-hearted and bleeding. After work one day I texted him saying, “I know this is against the rules of breakups, but I really want to see you again…” I hadn’t seen him in about two and a half weeks, and before that there had only been that one week we spent together in February over spring break. I needed to see him again to accept that what I thought we had was really over.
Shockingly, Mark answered me. He assured me that it was, in fact, against the rules. But he missed me, and said he could come see me that weekend. The military course I was on was ending that Thursday, but my friend and I were staying to take the next course, too. We basically had the entire wing of the building to ourselves for the weekend, so she moved into my room. She has always been there for me, and is the kind of girl you can tell anything to. She knew he had hurt me, but let me make the decision if I wanted to see him again.
The day Mark was supposed to arrive, my friend and I decided it was a good idea to go and suntan out behind our building in our bikinis. On a military base. And it wouldn’t have been a big deal, except the area the smokers went to from the whole building was right near us… Those old military guys got a bit of a show I guess.
But back to the story. So, eventually I put some clothes on and waited for Mark. I saw his car pull up, and walked towards him, calling, “Hey there, Stranger”. He smiled at me and I knew he was conflicted. He still loved me, but didn’t know what to do about it. I brought Mark up to my room, and we sat on my bed, talking. I knew what he was thinking, but neither of us brought it up. We just sat there, making awkward small talk. It reminded me of the night I sat with him in the dark the year before, wishing he would kiss me, but he didn’t then.
Finally I said to him, “You know I never stopped loving you, right?”
He pulled me in to rest on his shoulder, and whispered softly, “I know.”
All of a sudden I realized that this is probably the hardest thing he has ever had to do. And I had no doubt that he still loved me. But I just didn’t know what we should do now. I couldn’t just let him leave, knowing this. So we decided to get away for the night. I packed a bag and we hopped into his car. We got a hotel room just off base. We went for dinner, then returned to the hotel where we held each other for a long time. We gave each other massages, and talked about what was really on our minds.
Mark was the only guy I had ever slept with. And that was months ago that it happened. And it happened again that night.
I often ponder the differences between words like “sex”, “making love”, and “fucking”.
What Mark and I did that night was not the sex of lovers who fate would not allow to be together. No, it was fucking. It was sex for the sake of gaining pleasure, each person seeking to satisfy their own needs. And it happened several times that night.
The mindless act of fucking Mark allowed me to take control of our relationship for the first time ever. I used him, and got what I wanted. He wasn’t the man I fell in love with anymore. He was a man who had taken my virginity away, and I was taking back that power. I gained something within myself that night. I was now able to accept that what we had was over.
And the next morning as I said goodbye to Mark, he drove away with our song playing on the radio. And with that, although it still hurt, I knew that I was better off because of this breakup.