Disgusted - With Myself

 

 

I watch you out of the corner of my eye as you walk into today's latest hot spot, 7th & Orange, and an unmistakable look of cruelty flashes across your face as you see that I am sitting exactly where your friend told you I would be, at the very end of the bar, trying to appear that I want absolutely no company but in truth desperately wishing for something, anything, to keep me from feeling so lonely and unwanted.

 

A grin flits across your lips when you see my pathetic efforts at trying to let the entire bar know through my face and my pose that I want and need no one. Such a fucking waste of energy from a complete loser, you probably think to yourself. You can read me like some cheap ebook as you see right through my pitiful facade, this poor excuse for a woman who is ready to crumble at any moment, a woman who despite her better judgment craves somebody . . . somebody who is exactly like you.

 

Can I ask you something? Did your 'friend' tell you that he treated me like a total piece of shit? I can see the two of you now, laughing over drinks when he told you in graphic detail what he had done to me. Sure, you seem to be a decent guy from the looks of you, and at first you were probably repulsed to think that a man, especially a man that you know, would treat a woman the way he treated me. But as he continued to tell you his story I'm sure you began to see the humor of it all, eventually joining him in his laughter, and whatever initial disgust you felt was quickly banished from your mind. Seriously, why should you care? After all you are men and I am a woman and you treat me as nature intended me to be treated.

 

And because I allow you to treat me the way that you do.

 

I'm going to be honest with myself for a moment, or maybe even a little longer if I can summon the courage. Yes, I was anxious to go out with your friend even though he was almost 20 years older than me. Dating doesn't come easy to me. I'm a single mother with a daughter just entering college and hadn't been out on a date, had not been alone with a man for god knows how long. So yes, I'll admit it, I did jump at his invitation to dinner. In hindsight he could probably sense that I was desperate for company, desperate for whatever scrap of affection I could get from any man whatsoever, and he decided to take advantage of me, knowing damn well that our relationship - if that's ever what it really was - wasn't going to go anywhere except for what he did to me that night.

 

Not that I mean to be unfair to your friend. I could tell that he liked me, liked my body at least. Older men like him prefer MILFs like me. (I'd never heard of the term 'MILF' before until just recently when my daughter explained to me that it meant 'Mother I'd Like to Fuck'. I'll take that as a compliment, I guess.) Forty-something years old, natural red hair, and my daughter tells me I have a great figure despite having had two children. I figured out later that he wanted to find out if I was really a red head and that the color of the landing strip between my legs would answer his question. I also found out, much later, that your friend prefers paying for no-strings-attached sex but had decided to make an exception for me, for one night only. Lucky me . . . .

 

He'd taken me to dinner at the latest hot spot, the bar of which I'm sitting in right now, trying my best to not appear as shit faced as I really am. The night your friend took me here I wasn't even close to being as wasted as I am now. No, that night I was having the time of my life, as silly as that might sound! It was still early as we walked out together to the valet parking, and because I was having such a nice time I made the tragic mistake of believing that your friend was too, and totally fucked things up by saying to him, "It's still early. Do you want to come back to my house and watch a movie?" Re-playing those words now in my mind I can't believe what a total dope I was. 'Watch a movie?!' Give me an F-ing break!

 

I could almost hear the laughter bubbling up just beneath his voice when he said, "Sure, that sounds great." He probably thought I was quite the drinker just because we'd shared two bottles of wine over dinner and he made the educated guess that I wanted more when he asked, "How about if I stop on the way back to your place and pick up a bottle of wine, Tessa?"

 

Before I could stop myself I blurted out, 'That's perfect!' and immediately knew that this was the second time in less than a minute that I'd fucked up. I started to explain myself to your friend, making up the excuse that I hadn't had time to shop for groceries for the week yet, when this brand new red BMW was valeted up to the curve and for the - say it with me, now - for the third time in less than two minutes I totally fucked up yet again by asking your friend if that was his car. He nodded 'Yes' and shot me a sideways glance and from that moment on he was absolutely, positively one hundred percent certain that he was going to be able to do anything and everything to me that he wanted to that night.

 

And he did.