Visitors

Friday, September 11, 2015

Sleep With Me...

There was this red-headed boy named Daniel.  Man, was I gone on him.  I had no business pursuing Daniel or any other young men at the time.  Technically, I was still married.  But that didn't stop me from longing for love.  The slot was open, and I desperately needed it filled.

I was attracted to Daniel because he looked my way.  All I ever needed was an ounce of attention.  He stared at me as if I were a train wreck that just kept happening, over and over.  It wasn't a particularly nice feeling, but I took what I could get.  Of course, I wanted him to be interested in who I was, so I pretended to be someone interesting.  Looking back, I spent a great deal of time and effort trying to convince guys that I was a good idea.

Initially, Daniel was reluctant to sleep with me.  He wasn't quite 21 when we met.  I was a cradle-robbing hag of 24, nearly divorced with a toddler.  I wouldn't say I forced myself on him, but I was persistent.  And it was clear that he enjoyed getting laid.  Even though I was never casual in my approach to sex, I was extremely accommodating.

Daniel was in the Air Force, and he worked second shift.  He came over after midnight.  I drank all evening and got high while I waited.  When he finally showed up, we went at it like animals.  We never ate supper together or rented movies.  I don't recall any dates.  We fucked, and he left.

Wait a minute, there was this one time we were at a restaurant.  We ordered food and a bucket of beers.   I ran a red light that night and broadsided another vehicle filled with teenage boys.  They were stoned.  I totaled my car.  Daniel wasn't wearing a seatbelt.  His face got busted up pretty badly when he hit the windshield. I took some bruises to the inside of my thighs from the steering column.  I guess that would count as a date - albeit, a shitty one.

Daniel talked about this girl named Becky.  She was still in high school, back home in Missouri.  Becky this, and Becky that.  Becky's shy.  She babysits and helps out at church.

Who gives a shit?  Fuck Becky, I thought.

"Fuck me," I begged.

Sometimes he'd call her, right after we had sex.  I could hear her voice through the telephone.  She sounded like a nitwit.  Her whole boringly idiotic life still ahead of her.

"What's so great about Becky, anyway?" I asked as we lay there, tangled up in the stale sheets we'd pulled right off the mattress.

"Well, for one, she's smart enough to not have kids yet."  Daniel smiled as he stated his position.

Right then and through no fault of his own, my child became a problem.  I felt my heart drop, roll off the bed and break open, but I couldn't bring myself to check on its condition.  My focus was on this arrogant young man who didn't love me and never would.

"I'm not gonna be your boyfriend," Daniel told me, many times.

"Why not?"

"I just don't want to."

"How could you say that?"  I cried.  "I don't understand."

"That's because you're stupid."