This is so weird.

Afterward, but before I started to cry, he asked what exactly what it was about the situation that made me so ‘mad and sad’. He called me ‘sweetheart’, a pet name that he knows I despise as every time he says it it’s with contempt, or at least condescend.

Have you identified what you problem is yet, Sweetheart?

My reply was quiet and mumbled. Something about him knowing me better than that. Something about having trusted him. It was short. I wanted him to leave. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to make it better as soon as possible. A heartfelt apology and a rundown of the last fifteen minute’s events may have sufficed.

My answer wasn’t good enough, and he hopped out of the car to put his jeans back on.

In hindsight, the reason for my being so ‘mad and sad’ is clearer. He treated me like a slut. The only reason I ever let him choke me, and be so dominating is because I believed that he had a high opinion of me. I gave him specific limits, and he respected me enough to play within them. It was so unexpected.

He was my best friend. I thought we would eventually fuck, but I always thought it would be a nicer experience than that. I didn’t think he would want to do something that I wasn’t ready for.

This is so weird.