A memory came back to me the other day and it was something I never thought I would tell anyone (let alone blog about). But the other day I had the deep urge to write about it.
The day before I broke up with MF back in September 2010 was memorable for more than the obvious reasons.
I was on my period, but in his usual fashion he woke me up in the middle of the night to fool around.
But this time was different. I was curious what was going to happen since I was unsexable.
He stuck in a place he had never before. No lube. No nothing. Just him and me half-asleep whimpering, “Ow.” I didn’t physically stop him. I wanted to see what he’d do after hearing my groan.
He went further. I yelled louder. “Ow, that hurts.”
He stopped and said, “Ok.”
I got up and went to the bathroom.
There was blood, but it wasn’t my period. I told him I was bleeding and he said, “Oh really? Sorry,” and went to sleep.
When I broke up with MF on that next day I stayed the night in Norman with an awesome friend (I was living in OKC with MF). I only had the same clothes to wear for the next day. I had sold my car that day so I walked to the bank and then work, about a 5-milish trek. It was hot, I was sweaty, and I did not dress like I was going to be car-less.
Every step was a very real reminder that I had been fucked in the ass. Both literally and figuratively. My ass hurt for weeks after that. I don’t know if it will ever be the same. It was traumatized. I was traumatized. But I didn’t have the time (or really ability) to process it all. It’s actually a really funny image to me now.
I knew it was wrong. I knew he was wrong. Not to even ask if I was OK. Or even really feel sorry. It did make it easier to stay away from him for over a month.
In mid-October he came around when I was beginning to feel strong. But I caved. We slept together. And then, you can probably guess what happened. After two weeks of hanging out he was sleeping over and wanted to have sex. I didn’t feel good. He told me how he was in pain if he didn’t have sex with me. “I feel nauseous,” I repeated. “OK, well I’m just letting you know.” I started touching him. I went to stick my hand down his pants. He stopped me. “What are you doing?” he was mad. “I’m going to help you feel better…” I was confused. “By jerking me off? WOW. That’s disgusting. Do you know how that makes me feel?” he was really mad. “You said you don’t feel good. I don’t want to have sex with you because I don’t feel well. I can be with you this way…I’m happy to be with you this way…what is wrong with that?” We fought and then I asked him why it never crossed his mind to ask why I didn’t feel good or if there was anything he could get for me. He had no answer.
I asked him to leave after that. He sat there and said to my wall, “Think about what you just said and if you really mean it.”
“Leave,” I said. He left.
So I guess it’s the case that you can get fucked in the ass and still fuck yourself over. Sometimes it takes a few times to get it through your head. I wish it only took one.
This last interaction was at the beginning of November. By Christmas he found a new girlfriend and took her to New York for New Years. Which was strange, because when we were “testing the waters” I told him I wanted us to go to NY for New Years again to work it out. I feel so sorry for her. And I hope that one day she will message me and ask to meet with me. So I can tell her she’s not alone. You’re not alone.
I’m glad I can write about it now though. And share it with the internet world. I was ashamed before. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I kind of feel like there’s probably more people out there who have had similar experiences. I imagine the stories of fucking a Mind Fuck are probably plenty and close between. And I also feel like you should as(s)k ass virgins first before going all backwards on them, but then again, I’m assuming all kinds of things here, aren’t I?
Yours purging an ass memory,
*This is the first post in a series of three memories from my relationship with MF I seek to purge.