Rape Me

 In my dreams, she changes her mind. She gets closer to me, biting her lip, running her hand through her hair before putting it on mine. "You were right." She pauses and takes in a deep breath. She looks around before gazing back at me. Her eyes. Those fucking eyes. They put me at ease while taking away my breath at the same time. "I want you." I smile as I lean into her.

Then I wake up.

Then I look around the shithole I’m in. Fourteen cubic feet of prison cell erotica. My roommate’s already gone. And I stare at the ceiling, my heart drops. I can feel the sadness behind my eyes. Then I get my ass out of bed to go see her. To see him. To see them together, but they’re not together. I see the confidence in those eyes. I also see restlessness. The chase is over. She won. But behind her content, there’s something else. They’re officially unofficially together. TA and student. It’s not unheard. But they still have to keep it quiet to an extent. There hasn’t been one case of PDA yet. It’s there, though. This yearning. 

But I know I can’t bring to the table what he brings. He’s got the brains. He gives her the academic and profound conversations she needs. She’s happy. That’s all that matters, I suppose. Happiness. That keeps my dwelling to a minimum. She’s happy. So I move on. Look elsewhere for my desires. Yet I still cannot quit comparing her to everyone else. They all seem unfulfilling to an extent; even if they’re really not. I know it’ll eventually go away.

I’ve gotten myself into my own trouble. In my desire to not be alone, I’ve been hanging out with one of my friends, and we tend to hit the booze. He also likes to invite friends. Two gay guys, myself, and a girl sat around a table playing "Ring of Fire". I bet you know how that ends. Then my friend’s roommate enters. She’s the only sober one of the group. And she joins in on the intense make-out session among five people. My friend passes out, and I’m stuck on a couch being groped by three people. His roommate lures me into her room, locking the other two out. 

We fucked.

There’s not really another way to put it. Making love. Going at it. Killing time. Doing it. Having sex. Intercourse. Whatever. We ended up talking the rest of the night before heading off our ways. The conventional becomes the unconventional. It was a one night stand clouded by two people looking for a connection. Something physical as well as emotional. I still don’t know how I feel. Or even what to feel. We saw each other again. I told her I didn’t want to be "labelled" into something. I stayed. There must be something. She lured me in again. We fucked one more time. But I still don’t know how I feel. 

I’m holding on to a dream, strangely drifting toward something that seems more-so sexual than emotional. But I enjoy hanging out. The touching outside of the bedroom irks me, raises my ire. Makes me feel like I’m supposed to be someone I’m not. At the same time, I’m struggling with myself to not be that guy. That guy. But I keep thinking that if I erase my dreams that deep down there will be something. Not just something physical. I don’t know if there is. How do you piece through the unconventional? The mind doesn’t want you to go there. It wants routine. It wants cause equals effect. It fights at any glimmer of irrationally fucked up shit. But I’m stuck being drawn into exploring my sexuality.

What if there is nothing there? Then will I have become that guy? But I came back. I’m exploring. If I don’t feel that emotional "let’s be together forever" connection, does that still make me that guy? Does wanting to try to fuck other people also make me that guy? I had my options, two of which were going to be one night stands. But I chose the third one. The sober one. The sane, rational being. But uttering those three words, "sane, rational being" when it comes to trying to find an emotional connection with someone by sleeping with them makes it ironic. But I was trying to do the same. 

You can’t always get what you want. I’m left fighting with my brain. I can’t have the girl of my dreams. I can’t have the one that left me heartbroken. I have in my sights an idea of a new start. But half of me doesn’t want it. The other half wants to stay fucked up going from person-to-person. But the choice I’ve made right now; it’s still fucked. How do you fix something that started off as broken? How do you mend two overly insecure people? It doesn’t seem like the right choice.

But I have felt happier. I have felt more confident in my abilities as a human being. Even though I’m struggling with a shit-load of inner turmoil. There’s a monsoon in my head. Tidal waves are crashing down on my ability to think and make decent choices.

Maybe I should’ve just slept with the guy.