Touch Me...

Everything does...

Every hint of goodness...I used to love him, but he didn't believe in me, and, eventually, he didn't want me at all. It hurt and I cried. 

It's always pretty amazing when we find out that someone from our past sees something good in us. When they dote over us and imagine what we could become...semi-stalking us. It can be both intriguing and scary. I think I'll talk about my experience today from the intriguing side.

Over the past three weeks, I've had three ex-boyfriends stumble back into my life: one emailed me out of the blue (he's the most dangerous because he lives in close proximity to me), one found me on Facebook (I'll concentrate on him in this entry) and one I found on Facebook (he needs a blog entry all his own). 

The one who emailed me...well, it's not that I don't think he's a good guy. Well, sort of...he kind of used me when we were together and stepped back in to the shadows for a while...asked me for help on a project and disappeared again. I think he's between women. Doesn't matter...He wants to see me. I don't want to see him. He seemed like a friend, but he's not good for me so...well, nothing more to talk about.

The one who found me on Facebook, interestingly enough, was one of the few men I was actually in love with. I wish I could say his name on here because he was one of the sweetest men I had ever been in a relationship with. In times past, when I was lonely, the thoughts of me and him lying in the bed talking and laughing...watching TV together...the thoughtful gifts he brought me. The way he treated me and my son, Jay, made me feel like we were in a real family (something I desperately wanted and sought after vehemently). 

His mom loved me and I loved her. She often blessed me with organic vegetables from a friend's garden and was much like a mother to me. She used to talk to me...sincere talk. I mean, she really cared for me like a daughter and thought I was good for her youngest. I went to see her after our breakup and she was sad about it, but urged me to continue to see her. Out of respect for his mom and her memory, I will end my discourse about her here.

My ex and I were great, but I had issues with him smoking. I also wanted to stop having sex and give our relationship to the Lord. We shouldn't have started having intercourse because he didn't want to stop and neither did I. It was hard. I loved on him good and he was so kind to me that I couldn't help it. As my insatiable appetite grew, it was difficult to pull away. He was such an amazing lover and an even better friend.

In 2004, I had been having a difficult time in the church I was a member of. I was being marginalized and
discounted because of my past...I was being judged and it hurt because I didn't have anyone to lean on.

I was celibate. 

My ex came over. It had been four years since our break up. I missed him and welcomed him into my home. We talked for a little while and I could tell he was still attracted to me...and I was just as attracted to him. The air in the room was electric. I was lonely and I often struggled with being celibate when no one believed I was. To shorten the story, he gave me the most luscious sexual gift and promised we wouldn't need to have sex for it. You know it was oral. It was him on me and as always he didn't disappoint. He laid me down and caressed my hips and thighs as he pressed his lips and tongue against that one special place. He made love to me with his face and I exploded with pleasure. 

Afterward, he wanted to have sex, but I told him I couldn't. He was angry with me. Although I felt selfish and guilty...even confused, I didn't trust that he wanted to keep me and I was afraid to start something over with him again.

In a few days, in a fit of guilt, I called him and asked him to come back by. This time, I gave it all back to him. He seemed to be pleased, but he still wanted to have sex and so did I. He wanted to be inside of me. He wanted my legs wide open...feet tucked behind my head, but I still didn't want to give up my celibacy. I could tell he was upset with me, even after my gift to him, and I was perplexed. I hadn't paid him back as I had thought...that's not what he wanted. 

In a week's time, remorse took a toll on me. I had been dealing with so much rejection in the church and in my community. I had lost a dear friend and I felt so alone. He was the only person I had in my life who wanted to be around me. I wanted to give him a gift. I wanted to see him happy again. I wanted to hear those accolades he always gave me. I wanted to hear him bellowing out my name...I wanted to hear him say it in that voice I evoked from him...the way he would squeeze me when I pleased him. I always remembered that when I felt depressed or rejected. When I felt like no one wanted me, I could hear his voice when I pleased him. I could hear his voice calling me sexy...saying, "Ohhhh Yolanda..." I wanted that.

I called him.

And I was anticipating making love to him like we once did.  He was pretty endowed and I didn't want him to hurt me, but, as I thought about it, I knew he wouldn't hurt me because he loved me. I predicted that he would be gentle and that our sex would be beautiful like it once was.

I was wrong.

When I arrived, we had a short period of time to talk and he was on me. I let him do it. It felt so good to be received. I didn't think he would or ever was judging me. I released my heart to him again to trust him completely, but he wasn't that same person. He didn't love me anymore. He was wounded and ready to wound me back.

He ushered me to the bed, I pealed off my clothing and I laid down to receive him. I opened my legs and he shoved himself inside of me. It hurt so bad...I burned inside and held my breath almost the entire time. It didn't last long. For me, there was no eruption...no orgasm, only pain and blood. It was like I was a virgin losing my virginity to a rape all over again. Although the sex was consensual, it reminded me of the first time I had lost my virginity. A violent rape on a kitchen counter with a rag stuck in my mouth. My mouth and throat became dry and I looked at the ceiling to find a spot to live and wrap my body around and wide tears plummeted down my face...into my ears and down my chest into the folds of my cleavage. When it was done, I tried to talk to him...to reason with him, but he didn't believe I hadn't been having sex for all of that time. He didn't believe I hadn't had sex since the last time we did. Even though I bled and he couldn't even last inside of me, he chose to believe that I had put together some concoction to make my insides tighter to trick him...something that was completely out of character for me. I gasped...sick, sore and down-trodden, my heart hung in my chest sad, depressed and defeated. 

I begged God to forgive me...flinging up thousand upon thousands I'm sorries, but I refused to forgive myself because I didn't feel like I deserved it.

When he was done, he didn't try to cuddle with me. He didn't even touch me. He got me a wet rag and let
me know he had somewhere to go...or needed some sleep. I can't remember which it was, but he made it clear that he didn't want me there anymore. I had to go home. When I think about it, I think he took me. However I got home, I was devastated and he never called me again. 

A couple of days ago, he contacted me for the first time in a decade on Facebook. I was confused. He apologized (something not many men who had hurt me were man enough to do). What I couldn't believe was that he had kept up with me during the course of a decade...he knew what I had been through and somehow watched me go through it from a distance. He was able to tell me things he shouldn't have known. He wouldn't call me, he said, because he didn't think I would receive his help. It was difficult to learn that he watched me drown...so many people did. 

In all, the thing that touched me the most about my experience today, talking to him on the phone, was that I heard things from him that I needed to hear...things that I don't get to hear...

His keeping up with me touched me. Even though it's a little stalker-like, at least he was willing to convince me that I would be a good wife. He tried so hard to convey that I was one of the sweetest and most beautiful women he had ever known. That I was valuable and special. That he would marry me if he could do it all over again...he would love me. 

Although I appreciated his accolade (one without sexual intervention), I became despondent. He asked me if, when I return from Abu Dhabi, would I marry him...give him another chance. It's something that he had loved me and I had loved him and how I would have been enthralled to become his wife during that time, but that I was neither valuable nor believable enough for him to realize that I wouldn't have ever lied to him. I told him I never wanted to get married again. Much to my dismay it slipped out of my mouth without me thinking. It was then that I realized that I am a wonderful mom, a great friend, a phenomenal colleague, a dependable contractor, a law-abiding citizen...I'm a good girl and I'm amazing at everything except for relationship. 

I've been in love four times in my life. None of them had ever chosen me and now I'm considering taking my hat out of the ring for good because I only want to take care of me right now. 

Maybe some day...just not today.