Day 12: The Do Over (30 Days of Days)

Day 12: A Day I Wish I Could Do Over

It took me a minute, but here it goes:

I covered the whole gambit in an entry, which I invite you to look at for the full story (which is my Dear John type letter to the person regarding the situation). 

But I will give the abbreviated version as part of this.

During this period of time, I was dealing with a lot of pain from my failed relationship with M (for those of you who don’t know the full story of my situation with M…well that is going to involve way too much back tracking—just take my word, it was rough). 

The past year and a half, there hadn’t been any type of intimacy.  It was like I was living a separate life.

However, I was so involved in working trying to keep things afloat; I didn’t have time to fully process how much I longed, desired, needed for someone to make me feel like I was everything, even if only for a moment.

It didn’t really hit me until that day.  

That day when I was alone with (let’s just deem the person “L”). 

L had been there for me—a wonderful listening ear regarding all of the complication and stress I had been through with M.  I felt good when I was around L.  I felt like my words and my opinions mattered.  It just felt so refreshing to really have a budding friendship.

It didn’t fully hit me until I was alone with L that things had escalated. 

I was so caught up in my pain that I didn’t even pick up on the crackling of desire L had for me.  Yes, there were things said, but usually, L would just laugh about it, and we would go on, hanging out, spending time together.  I never thought anything more of it.

Until that day.

It was L’s birthday.  I wanted to do something special for L, so we went out to eat and did the usual hang out at the house.  L was complaining about being stressed, and I noticed there was tension in the neck and back area.  I offered to give L a massage.  No, I am not necessarily trained in it, but I’ve always been told that I am good with my hands.

I began to knead L’s muscles and the tension began to seep away.  I rubbed the shoulder blades first.  Then L removed the top to allow me to massage the rest of the back area.  As I got lower, I noticed sounds being made. 

Moans of pleasure.

I stopped because I noticed how aroused L was getting.  I don’t think L sensed why I stopped.  Perhaps believing the massage was done.

“It feels weird for me to be getting the massage when you are the one who’s been going through so much hell,” L said.  “I’m not sure if I could do it as well as you, but how about I try giving you one?”

“No, L, it’s your birthday.”

“Well, if it’s my birthday, you are supposed to grant my wish, aren’t you?”

I couldn’t do too much arguing after that.

L was right.  My back and my shoulders were wrought with tension, yet L had very good hands, knowing the right amount of pressure and how to switch up speed and intensity.  I let myself relax and gave in to how good it was feeling.

I hadn’t been really touched like this since M. 

When M started getting sicker and more distant, the therapist had recommended it would be best that no types of intimacy take place until M started becoming a bit more emotionally stable.  I had agreed thinking my patience and steadfastness would pay off and the relationship could be saved.

So during that time, M and I hadn’t slept in the same bed.  Hugs and kisses had been very few and far between. 

I tried to fight it but a moan escaped my lips, too.  I was praying L hadn’t heard it as hands began to travel up the sides of my back.  L hit a sensitive area (one that made me a bit ticklish) so I slightly jumped.  When I did, I saw L’s hands had shifted to my breasts. 

“No, please….”

“You’re so beautiful,” L whispered against my ear.  “Let me help take away the pain.”

Normally, I’m a very strong willed person.  Heck, in my earlier days, I had been deemed the Ice Maiden because no matter how much on fire the other person was for me, if I wasn’t ready, then it wasn’t happening. 

This period of time, I was different.  

I was being overworked, and my body was going through physical and intimate withdrawal.  The will had taken a vacation, and my brain was weary of thinking—I just wanted something to make me feel alive.

L’s lips and hands began to work on me.  My blueprint fell by the wasteside.

I allowed myself to become undone.

What followed next was more aggravation that I ever thought possible.  

I know that it is my fault the way things went down.  I should have just refused L and dealt with the fire being left dormant, but my body and my grief betrayed me.  

I can’t fully say whether L and I could be friends, but at least there would have been a civil ambiance between us instead of things escalating to the point where L and I can no longer deal with each other period.

Day 12, that's a wrap!

Peace.