After Mr. Wifey, I found myself slithering in heartache. Anyone, I mean literally anyone could scratch the itch that he left me with. To the point that self-worth wasn’t really even part of my vocabulary, after all, I did the dirtiest of deeds in the sanctity of “love”. You would think this is what landed me in therapy, but that story is of a darker toll, something for later.
The internet dating scene was becoming more relevant around the time I was wallowing in pity. I accepted the idea that I could do and be anything for the sake of reaching forth to a concept I had not quite understood. I was ready to date; anyone. I wanted to make Mr. Wifey jealous, to show him I could live without him and that I was desired by other men.
I was young and nieve, I didn’t really know all the terminology in the dating scene. But with a crash course, it didn’t take me long. I spent some time talking to Mr. AIM; before texting, Tinder or Facebook messaging; trying to fill in the gaps of a love that would never be. My emotions still vulnerable, I lived with this connotation that sex = love and oh boy was I wrong.
He kissed me hard. I felt numb at first, but my yearning for acceptance and love overcame me and I kissed back. I kissed back as my hands made their way up and down his body. I felt his hand reach under my shirt, I’ve been here before, I knew where it would lead. With each undoing of a clasp of my bra I burned and yearned for two separate things.
I wanted to be loved, I wanted to be someone’s “wifey”, but I also wanted to burn holes into the eyes of the man who branded my heart. With the slide of his jeans and the slight maneuver of my panties, I became a beast ravaging in the confusion and ecstasy of the moment. This wasn’t love, this wasn’t going to be love, this was…. my first hookup.
As I slide off of his deployed rocket into a pile of dread I knew that I wouldn’t see him again. He tasted of pizza, cheap beer, and cigars. He felt like a pillow found on the clearance aisle at Walmart that no one wanted and he fucked like a fish out of water. He floundered in ways I didn’t know where humanly possible. Maybe I had been spoiled, being with a man who had a few years practice before Mr. AIM. But I held my dignity together as I hunted for my clothes, smiled politely, said “this was fun” and made my way for the exit.
His eyes lingered on me as I made my way out the door and as I closed it behind me I took a deep breath. I was wanted, but was it for the reasons I desired? I haven’t logged on to AIM since that night, thankfully technology has advanced enough that I don’t ever have too. But sometimes I wonder if this was when I lost my self or if it was just my dignity that night.