Sex, Love, Dreams
"Yes... yes, oh yes, fuck me... fuck me! Oh, yes!" I was breathing heavily, my legs up in the air and he pounded into me.
"Oh," he said. "Oh, I love how your pussy feels... fucking you so hard... yes! Yes!"
I wrapped my arms around his body. He was sweating heavily, and so was I.
"Fuck me hard, baby... fuck me hard!"
With that, he began thrusting harder and harder into me.
Still, my heart sank as we fucked each other. I felt no connection. It was just sex. I wanted it to be more, but it was just sex. Still, I held tight onto him, not wanting him to let me go, afraid for him to leave me.
When it was over, we laid in one another's arms. He had a really nice body, probably the nicest body of any guy I had ever fucked before. I snuggled up against him, closing my eyes and sighing deeply as he pulled up the blanket over the both of us.
He took his hand and placed it under my chin, guiding my face toward his. He lifted my head and kissed me gently upon my lips.
"Tell me something I don't know about you," he whispered to me.
I was lost when he asked me to say something about myself. There was so much I could say, but I didn't want to say any of it. It was all about pain, because I was all about pain.
"Um, I like art," I said with a shrug. I was always surprised myself when I was unable to say something, wrapped up in a man's arms. I was not a shy person, but when it came to connecting, I just could not find anything to say.
He smiled at me. "What kind of art?"
I robotically started talking about what kind of painting I did, what I usually painted, how it made me feel.
His name was Robert. Robert was a very kind man. He wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but he was handsome enough, I suppose. He listened when I said the things I said, and he genuinely liked me and was curious about me, who I was, and what I stood for.
We had sex on the third date. I was somewhat disappointed in myself that it happened so early. When I was younger, I always felt like I would be some sort of honorable prude, waiting and waiting until I was madly in love with someone to finally have sex with them. But then I grew up, and I realized that I was the kind of girl who could have sex with no connection whatsoever. I always felt a little empty afterward, but I just had sex anyways. Some part of me had just given up caring.
"Do you want to go get some breakfast?" I whispered to him. He nodded as he stretched and reached for his pants on the side of the bed.
I got dressed. He said some sort of joke that I didn't think was that funny, and I forced a laugh, because I wanted nothing more than to laugh at Robert's jokes, even though I didn't find them that funny.
After we got dressed and left my apartment, we walked down the path to the dining hall on my college campus. We talked a little bit, but I was only responding in yes or no questions.
I know it's not healthy, but I'm the kind of person that tends to live in the past. I walked down the path holding hands with Robert, but I was miles away, worlds away.
I thought about a young man from my old college whom I was absolutely smitten with. His name was Eric. He was drop dead gorgeous. He was very tall, with medium length sandy blonde hair. He had the kindest heart in the world, and his smile always lit my heart up, no matter how dark a place I was in. He was extremely smart and had a clever sense of humor, and whenever I laughed with him, I was really, really laughing.
I wanted so badly to date Eric, but it just never happened. Whenever we got close to something happening, something always came up. I still thought about him all the time though.
I remember one night in particular. I was talking to Eric, and the friends I was with drifted off, leaving me alone with him. I continued to hang out with him, and we were about to go dancing, when one of his friends got very, very sick with alcohol poisoning. We spent the rest of the night trying to get her better. She eventually recovered, but everyone was a little shaken afterwards, so of course I didn't do anything with Eric that I had wanted to do.
I parted from Eric, but he sent me a text message later.
"Hey Kara, thanks again so much for helping out. It meant so much to me. You are an amazing person. You did a really amazing job helping out. Thank you so, so much. You have a really big heart."
I must have read that message over a thousand and one times. My heart lit up with a life I had never known before. I don't think Eric was in love with me, but I knew on some level he really loved me as a person.
I was thinking about this when Robert held my hand. I snapped back into reality. He said something to me, and I forced a laugh again. I was holding back tears as I laughed, as my heart broke.
"Look how beautiful it is outside today," Robert said as he smiled at me.
I looked up and around me, trying my best to be in the moment. It certainly was a beautiful day. The trees were blossoming with green leaves, flowers were beginning to pop up here and there. The sun was shining bright, and the sky was a radiant blue.
I smiled at Robert. "It certainly is a beautiful day," I said with a weak smile.
Robert left later that day. I was by myself. I didn't really like being by myself, I got very bored and lonely very easily. I didn't have many friends to talk to on a daily basis, there were only two or three people I called friends, but even they were busy and had their own things they had to tend to, so I couldn't rely on them all the time. I suppose that is why I didn't want to break up with Robert.
I really love Spanish music, and so I got out my ipod and played some Spanish music. I didn't always understand all the words in the songs, but the feeling of the music was so full of life and magical that it made me feel like I could hold on to the little girl dreams I still possessed about finding true love. Spanish music made me want to dance. It made me want to love. It made me want to laugh.
I played my favorite song over and over again. I got up and began dancing. I thought of Eric at that moment, his smile, his laugh, his deep voice and beautiful blue eyes.
I stopped at that moment, as tears began brimming in my eyes. I turned the music down, sat down on my bed, and started to sob. It had been a while since I had cried it all out. I just sat on my bed and cried and cried and cried, getting out every little pent up feeling of pain that had been building up in my body.
I walked over to my mirror, and took a moment to look at myself in the mirror. I looked at myself. I didn't just look at my face, but I really, really looked at myself, to point that I could look into my soul hidden beneath the years of pain and disappointment.
I got out a bottle of wine and downed about half of it. I lay on my bed, drunk, staring at the ceiling.
Perhaps this is the life I have chosen, I thought to myself. I lived a cautious life, where I loved men like Eric, but fucked men like Robert. What was it that I was holding on to that kept me from living my life the way I knew it was meant to be? What was it that made me burst into tears, fake laughter with men I didn't love, and try and pass out drunk on my bed? I felt weak. But in the weakness, I felt a surge of power.
I reached for my cell phone and called Robert.
"Hey Robert, how are you?"
"Um, I'm okay, whats up?"
" I think we need to talk."
"Um, okay, what's going on?"
I sighed a deep sigh. "I don't think we should have sex anymore. I thi k we should just go back to being friends."
There was a long pause of silence on the other end of the line. "But... but I really like you."
I paused, my heart tightening up. I wanted to hang up the phone and pretend I just hadn't said anything. I wanted to go back to my world where I was safe, where I got drunk, dreamed about Eric, and laughed at Robert's jokes even though I didn't think they were funny. I wanted that safe world back again.
However, I knew I couldn't do this to myself anymore. I couldn't live in this safe world. I needed to step out into the danger, into the unknown that is life.
"I'm sorry, Robert. I can't do this anymore."
Robert pleaded with me, asking me to just give it time. I didn't want to give it time though. I didn't have much time, and I certainly didn't want to spend my time listening to the sound of my heart breaking.
"You're a great guy, Robert, but I just really cannot do this anymore. I'm sorry."
"Alright," he said with a sigh. "I understand, I guess."
We said goodbye. That was the last real conversation I ever had with Robert. He didn't want to be friends after that.
I sat on my bed for a moment. I then went over to my ipod, and began blasting my Spanish music. I began dancing around my room, care free, laughing to myself like a crazy woman. I sang out the lyrics I knew, and just danced around to the rest of the words that I didn't really understand.
I was free. I was alone and scared, and I had no source of comfort. But I wad free to dream and to scheme, like a little girl who dreams of finding her true love some day.
I lay on my bed. Tears once more streamed from my eyes as it finally sank in again that I was alone, that I had sacrificed the comfort that was Robert. But at the same time, I felt my heart piecing back together, slowly but surely, mending from the lies I had been telling to it for so long.
I fell asleep soon, and had a dream about Eric. But when I woke up the next morning, I just smiled and let it all go. I didn't want Robert, and Eric was someone long gone that I could never have. I snuggled up in my blankets and smiled to myself.
I had no man, but I had my dreams. I suppose that sometimes, it is very easy to forget those dreams, those feelings one once had as one becomes immersed in reality. As one treks further and further down life, sometimes people tend to forget their dreams, perhaps because it is too painful to hold on to such dreams that one fears may never come true.
However, I made my choice. I would not forget my dreams. I would dream my dreams, never forget, and wake up every day with the bravery to know that I would someday have what I wanted.
I was alone, but I was not. I had the company of possibility. And in the end, when one is so young and full of possibilities, that is all one needs to hold on.
"Viva la vida," my favorite Spanish song played in the background. This translates to, "Live the life." It doesn't mean live a life, any old life. It means live the life you were meant to live. And until I live that life, until I see that life come up before me, perhaps I shall dream. Perhaps I shall dream, and when the dream is strong enough, I will fight for that dream to become my reality.
I will fight. Never settle. But fight. Dream, and fight for the dreams. Never anything less.
And that is the end of the story of Robert, or Eric, of the weaker me. And now, begins a new story where I have possibilities of what may come. I do not know if all my dreams will come true, but at least I can die knowing at the end that I at least tried.
In the end, trying is all that really matters.