He’s invited me to his for dinner and an apology. After he bailed on our NYE plans I thought it was over and have already cried quite a lot. Embarrassingly more than I can ever remember over a man. 

So it’s a surprise when it appears as if nothing has happened. The last time we spoke he was broken, incoherent. I thought that was it. 

It’s also a surprise when I see the card I got him, the print and other gifts all still laid out in his room. It’s not quite a shrine but my brain thinks “oh it’s not over then”. I’m very confused. 

He cooks me dinner in the kitchen which I’ve never been in. It’s a simple dish: prawns with chilli,  vegetables and noodles all out of various packets. It’s no gourmet meal but I’m grateful that someone else is making an effort. It’s the first time anyone has done this for me in five years. 

We go back to his room and settle in to watch a movie, chatting around the glaring non-explanation. I don’t want yo ask outright “what the fuck happened”. I cannot read the room. I can’t even remember what movie we watched. 

He makes a joke about something sexual and holds his crotch. I notice he’s wearing grey joggers and think about pulling them down. But dare I dear reader? 

In the movie version I don’t. The movie version of me has a very nice time and goes home and never sees him again. She’s seen the red flags and wants no more of this.

But this isn’t a movie. It’s my terrible life and terrible decision to pull the joggers down and suck him off on his sofa. He’s actually not wearing any pants which makes it easier. Even worse is that it takes him no time at all to cum, straight down the back of my throat. There is no reciprocal pleasure for me.  He doesn’t even touch me.

We stay up for a while and go to bed together. He strokes my back for ages, slowly tracing his fingers across my shoulder blades, down my spine and then back up. It sends me to sleep and is one of the most delicious intimate moments I’ve had. 

In the morning I nudge against him, wanting more, wanting to be satisfied at least. He tells me he hates morning sex. Part of me dies inside. What am I doing? He turns away from me. 

We shower separately even though I tease and suggest we go together. Another excuse. As I’m dressing he says “god your arse looks good” and I jokingly bend over the sofa and say something like “fuck me then “. To my surprise, he roughly fingers me from behind and then shoves himself inside.  

It’s hot and disgusting at the same time. I feel used but not in a good way at all. I’m not even close to coming because again he lasts a few minutes. A brief grope of the breasts and he’s done. 

I continue dressing and tuck this memory away. Until now.