Post by strangeclouds on Apr 18, 2005 17:38:48 GMT -5
You know, I remember you took me to Corpus once for Valentine’s day. It was probably the nicest thing you ever did for me. We walked along the beach for about an hour, but it was too cold to actually get in the water, so we just sat in the car for awhile looking at eachother.
After I had gotten back, all my friends asked what I did for Valentine’s. I told them all you had taken me to the beach and they all squealed "Awww! How sweet!" in unison.
What they didn’t know was we were the only there for an hour because it was raining, and I just ended up giving you blowjob in the front seat- only after you jumped out of the car to rinse your dick off in the water because you hadn't showered. I had to 'wash' it off with sprite, which meant gulping a mouthfull and swishing it around your penis until I couldn’t taste the salt anymore. Then you just- drove me home.
That same year, you brought me three carnations for an occasion I can't remember.
You told me, "I remember you saying something about you liking carnations, right?"
I made myself smile, and said, "Yeah! I like 'em..."
I hate carnations. The way the smell, look- everything. I remember telling you I loved peach roses, about a week after that. You made a face.
A week later, you gave me a single peach rose in a vase, that is still hanging from my ceiling. I had just turned fifteen. You took me to Jack in the Box. I got a Triple Bacon Cheeseburger. I don’t even think I got fries. Not that I could've eaten them.
Before you had turned eighteen, you asked me nicely, one last time to get me to have sex with you.
You said, "I'm going to be eighteen in a few days- it's still going to be technically legal."
I remember shying, and shaking my head. You didn’t seem to have too much of a problem with it.
But you did.
I was supposed to go see you and Matt do a band practice when you came up in your old Buick. You were wearing an old T-shirt and jeans. And sweating.
You said that you and Matt cancelled, so we were just gonna go drive to Las Palomas and do whatever, and asked if that was cool.
That was the first time I was actually scared of you.
You kept having to wipe sweat from your forehead. I could feel your heart beating hard against my chest.
You asked if you could 'put it in'. After I agreed, you leapt to the front to grab a condom from the ashtray that you had taken beforehand from your parent's drawer.
Afterwards I said I didn't want to do it anymore.
You said "Fine, whatever," and drove me home.
You said I never had to do it again, but I had several times after. You said if I didn't have real sex, I might as well let you try anal. I watched you rub olive oil on your dick, and you told me, "I can’t put it in if you keep squeezing together like that."
But now that you had done it once, you wouldn't ask me again.
Later after our breakup, I remember Harmony telling me how she hated how you were never satisfied with what she was willing to do, but with what she wasn’t. I'm not going to say that I felt bad for my best friend, because I didn't.
You and her had confronted me at my house because Brian told you that I said you raped me. I never said you did, I did give consent to it- but that didn’t mean that I wanted to. The only reason I did anything you asked is because you would never stop asking. You challenged every belief that I ever had and manipulated me in every way possible. Even still, you date young girls and I can't help but seem to know why. You always spoke of your days in band class, and how you planned to just pack up and leave one day- be a rockstar. I wanted to believe you. I wanted to believe a lot of things.
And all of this seemed like a matter of my imagination to everyone. All of this has been buried until today. I was waiting for it. I'm not expecting an apology anymore, I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to know that you're not welcome at my funeral.
After I had gotten back, all my friends asked what I did for Valentine’s. I told them all you had taken me to the beach and they all squealed "Awww! How sweet!" in unison.
What they didn’t know was we were the only there for an hour because it was raining, and I just ended up giving you blowjob in the front seat- only after you jumped out of the car to rinse your dick off in the water because you hadn't showered. I had to 'wash' it off with sprite, which meant gulping a mouthfull and swishing it around your penis until I couldn’t taste the salt anymore. Then you just- drove me home.
That same year, you brought me three carnations for an occasion I can't remember.
You told me, "I remember you saying something about you liking carnations, right?"
I made myself smile, and said, "Yeah! I like 'em..."
I hate carnations. The way the smell, look- everything. I remember telling you I loved peach roses, about a week after that. You made a face.
A week later, you gave me a single peach rose in a vase, that is still hanging from my ceiling. I had just turned fifteen. You took me to Jack in the Box. I got a Triple Bacon Cheeseburger. I don’t even think I got fries. Not that I could've eaten them.
Before you had turned eighteen, you asked me nicely, one last time to get me to have sex with you.
You said, "I'm going to be eighteen in a few days- it's still going to be technically legal."
I remember shying, and shaking my head. You didn’t seem to have too much of a problem with it.
But you did.
I was supposed to go see you and Matt do a band practice when you came up in your old Buick. You were wearing an old T-shirt and jeans. And sweating.
You said that you and Matt cancelled, so we were just gonna go drive to Las Palomas and do whatever, and asked if that was cool.
That was the first time I was actually scared of you.
You kept having to wipe sweat from your forehead. I could feel your heart beating hard against my chest.
You asked if you could 'put it in'. After I agreed, you leapt to the front to grab a condom from the ashtray that you had taken beforehand from your parent's drawer.
Afterwards I said I didn't want to do it anymore.
You said "Fine, whatever," and drove me home.
You said I never had to do it again, but I had several times after. You said if I didn't have real sex, I might as well let you try anal. I watched you rub olive oil on your dick, and you told me, "I can’t put it in if you keep squeezing together like that."
But now that you had done it once, you wouldn't ask me again.
Later after our breakup, I remember Harmony telling me how she hated how you were never satisfied with what she was willing to do, but with what she wasn’t. I'm not going to say that I felt bad for my best friend, because I didn't.
You and her had confronted me at my house because Brian told you that I said you raped me. I never said you did, I did give consent to it- but that didn’t mean that I wanted to. The only reason I did anything you asked is because you would never stop asking. You challenged every belief that I ever had and manipulated me in every way possible. Even still, you date young girls and I can't help but seem to know why. You always spoke of your days in band class, and how you planned to just pack up and leave one day- be a rockstar. I wanted to believe you. I wanted to believe a lot of things.
And all of this seemed like a matter of my imagination to everyone. All of this has been buried until today. I was waiting for it. I'm not expecting an apology anymore, I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to know that you're not welcome at my funeral.