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After all we’ve been through and your virginity gone, this is it?



What do you mean why do I sound angry? Why do I seem hurt? Because its wrong…



Three hundred dollars and we were only out for a few hours.

…yeah. That was nothing. It happens about three or four times a week. Maybe it was some shopping, couple games of pool, any (or however many) drinks we could consume and still stand. Or maybe it was semi-formal restaurants, wearing brand new expensive jewelry, and ordering cuisines we couldn’t pronounce just to see what they tasted like. We wore jeans and t-shirts while others wore the appropriate attire. They stopped letting us in after a while. We laughed about it.

While most people spent afternoons after work or school relaxing, we had to be with each other. Out and doing something. Anything. While most people spent free time or weekends with family, or just to themselves, it was always me with you and you with me. Not really spending time with each other. It had lost meaning. Spending time together had turned to spending something that actually had no meaning. Something that could not bring the happiness that people share when they are around each other.

I was fooled.

Fooled by your deep green eyes, long flowing hair, and your addictive smile.

We were both wrong.

I was wrong for thinking I could talk to you about everything. You never really listened. I was wrong for thinking I could actually be myself around you. I was only a malleable exoskeleton shaped by whatever mold you may have found interesting that day.

You were wrong.

You were wrong for making me feel like you cared about me as a person. You were wrong for giving me the slightest bit of hope that we would make it as a couple. You were wrong for spending so many nights at my house, lying with me, cuddling with me, gently caressing my nipples with your tongue and allowing me to do the same to yours. You were wrong for asking me to do so much for you.

I was wrong for always saying yes. You were wrong for acting like you actually felt sympathy listening to my sob stories about how I grew up in near-poverty. And how I was poor, broke, and unhappy. I’m not rich now, but financially secure. I’m not broke, but I realize that, because of you, I am broken. With a broken spirit, a broken mind, and a broken… Well, you know. Heart. I tried not to make it obvious to you.

You were wrong for telling me that “us” just might happen. You were wrong for walking those six blocks to my house in that cerebrum-chilling cold, in the four feet of snow. You were wrong for pretending to care that much. Wrong for making me think that only our warm, naked bodies next to each other could resurrect my frozen remains from the destructive, cryogenic state that I was in without you there.

We were both especially wrong for one thing on that frostbitten night.

We were wrong for being there. Together. With nothing separating our hearts except our bare skin. An outer barrier with softness that forced us closer. You were warm, soft, damp. I was throbbing to the point of soreness. We were so close together; almost intertwined. So inviting. So intruding. I was inside of you. You felt welcoming.

I was wrong for desiring this moment since the first time I met you. I was in a committed relationship. You were wrong for helping me destroy that commitment. You had slyly convinced me that we had something. Something more.

What the hell did you ever want from me? We agreed physically, at that moment, on what we wanted from each other. In that moment when I entered you. We both had wants. I was wrong for thinking that we both wanted a true sense of meaning.

I was fooled.

There was no meaning. There could be no meaning. No “us”. I was even wrong for thinking that you were just using me for money. I was wrong for not realizing that this entire relationship was just all wrong. I knew something was amiss, I just didn’t know what. I thought that feeling would go away once “us” became a reality.

You were wrong for letting me take your virginity.

Just because you were curious. Curious? About your sexuality?

I really cared for you. I wanted something with meaning. I didn’t want experimentation. I didn’t want to satisfy your curiosity about your choice of sexuality. You should have never entered my life. I should have never entered you. I know your conclusion, but what was your hypothesis?

Whatever it was, it’s wrong.

That one lustful moment only lead to an inner-self disaster. It lead to me adamantly trying to rectify something that had no rectitude. I was unsuccessfully trying to create concrete in reverse, because I could not justify the pillars that supported nothing. Not even themselves.

No, it shouldn’t be special just because I relieved your virginity. Is that just a token of your esteem? Something I can take home and add to the mantle? How can you take something so sacred and form it into a pat-on-the-back-and-good-job? An objective? A checkbox?

You have made ill-fated material out of that which is not supposed to be materialized. And you were wrong.

I was also guilty. I had taken my significant other, with whom I had a true metaphysical connection, and made her just an object. A nifty conversation piece. A trinket. And I was wrong.

I was lost, chasing after a gleaming star that would only collapse to a singularity at the edge of the galaxy. As it drained that part of my universe of all existence, I thought something, anything, would remain. I was wrong.

It even took the light.

It usurped meaningfulness and connectivity between two souls. It had made wrong what all existence had believed to be right.

Something all existence had observed to be right.

We are wrong.



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