A Playlist for You

For You

  1. Never be what you want by We Are the In Crowd
  2. Summer is Over by Jon McLaughlin feat. Sara Bareilles
  3. White Houses by Vanessa Carlton
  4. 9 Crimes by Damien Rice
  5. Begin Again by Taylor Swift
  6. The Silence by Mayday Parade
  7. Tell me I’m a Wreck by Every Avenue
  8. I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers
  9. 12 Through 15 by Mayday Parade
  10. The Scientist by Coldplay

 

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To the Ones I’ve Loved before (P 4.5)

This post begins me finally beginning to get a liiiiiiitle nsfw! Now I feel like I’ve broken the seal on it and can start writing more about what I really want to!

All I knew at the beginning was that he took a hard stance against his girlfriend hooking up with anybody else. She definitely wasn’t allowed, no way, no how. Don’t look at any other girls, don’t think about any other girls, don’t think about looking at any other girls.

Until, he began to bend his rules on that. Let’s call them Anna and Luke. Anna was (still is) one of my best friends and had been since we were 12 years old. I would spend every day over those middle school summers at her house, both in her basement watching movies and in her pool getting burnt. We would fling ourselves from the pool and lay on the deck to dry off as to not face the wrath of her mother, lest we drip any water in her pristine dining room.

Luke’s upbringing was a stark contrast. His mother is loving and kind and wants only what’s best for everybody who comes into that house. She greets everybody who enters with the same love and joy and acceptance and invites you to make yourself at home. When Anna started dating Luke she spent so much time there and I admit I grew jealous. I knew that Anna and I could never have the fun, no strings attached, relationship we had shared in high school but I was so starved for acceptance and intimacy I spent all my days hoping for it anyway.

Until Easter 2013, I had resigned myself to this. But that day something happened that it turns out would change everything. Anna had invited me over to Luke’s, where she would be spending the night, to drink and watch Netflix and just engage in general debauchery. The three of us piled onto Luke’s bed in a tangle and legs and clinked bottle after bottle of Smirnoff Ice together and wasted several hours drinking and getting progressively closer and closer.

Then Luke started talking. He started asking Anna if she thought I looked pretty, and if she ever thought about kissing me. I was so drunk at this point that I hardly even realized that he was talking about me, even though my head was in Anna’s lap and Luke’s hands were running up and down my legs. I had just finally escaped from a three month long manipulative and abusive pseudo-relationship and the gentle affection was intoxicating. I hardly remember how the rest happened. Anna’s face was so close to mine and Luke had one hand wrapped in my hair and the other hand in hers. Anna whispered at the last second, “Is this okay? You can say no if you want to.” I shook my head and Luke pushed her down to meet my lips. He made a low guttural “hmm” noise as he watched us.

The rest is a real and true blur. My shirt was pulled down, and then it was pulled off. Lips were on my neck, then they weren’t, then they were different lips. Anna and I were lying on the bed, and then Luke and I were lying on the bed. Even though we were all moving together every time Luke kissed me or focused on me I felt wrong. I felt like I was betraying Anna by lying there with her boyfriend. Then Anna undid the button on my jeans and I froze. I don’t know if what happened I consider a flashback, but suddenly I had the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. I had fresh cuts on my legs that hadn’t quite healed yet and the trauma of the last few months flooding my vision. So I started crying, and everything stopped.

Intoxicated consent issues aside, everything stopped when I said the word. Luke jumped up and put his clothes on to get me a glass of water and Anna rubbed my back until my breathing returned to normal. Luke came back and took his spot back on the bed where his hand joined Anna’s on my back. After a bit Anna got up to get dressed and Luke pulled me into his lap like a child. He rocked me and shushed me and kept repeating over and over again “This is a safe place for you Katie, you’re safe here.” He had no idea how badly I needed to hear that.

To the ones I’ve loved before (P.4)

I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the girl who turned me gay. Now of course I’m being hyperbolic and nobody can actually turn anybody else gay, gay isn’t a choice blah blah blah. But there’s definitely something to be said for that one friend you have who is totally down to platonically make out.

In my case I knew exactly what was going to happen. We were 16 and I had been thinking about kissing a girl, and more, pretty much constantly for a couple of years now. It was the main subject of all my teenage fantasies and more often than not the one thing that sent me right over the edge. I wasn’t sure that she would be the one who would also be good for it, but I guess something in me hoped it would be true. I’ve already written a bit about how this all went down (ha..) but I’ve tried not to think too much about what happened after.

The summer after high school ended we both found ourselves heartbrokenly single, her more so than me. I was pretty readily admitting I was into girls but she only was to me. And I was crushing hard. I was catching more feelings than I knew what to do with, tossing them back at her only to have her look confused when they landed at her feet.  She would tell me about the girl she had a crush on and all the cuddles she was getting from this girl and I wept. Admitting my feelings to her in a late night facebook chat with my favorite razor blade sitting next to me ended up being the thing that caused us not to speak for several months.  She told me she loved me, but wasn’t ready for that. That night was full of relapses for me. I had a feeling she thought we were all fun and games, but she was just scared.

Three months later I stumbled drunk into my dorm bathroom with my phone.  I had been losing all my problems in a cup of vanilla vodka and diet coke and I sent one text “Don’t you miss me at all?” The reply hurt and relieved me;

“More than you know”

That was it, she was back, best friends again.

Over the next few years physical entanglements came and went. I became involved with her and her boyfriend for a time and learned that I could easily be kept by another couple and feel fulfilled in that. I learned that the “third” was my favorite way to participate in a threesome. I learned that I was better at oral sex than her boyfriend (a sexual compliment I still hold as my proudest). I also learned how to love her again, but the right way. I learned that we were nearly the same kind of submissive, and therefore in my head, would never have worked as a monogamous couple without a dom to keep us in line. She’s an enabler. She took me to buy my first pack of cigarettes, she took me to my first pride event and my first sex toy shop, and to get my first tattoo.

This will be a short one; I’m finding it more difficult to write about her than I thought it was going to be. I’ve been through more with her than with any of my other friends and it shows. I am fiercely protective of her and her emotions and her heart. I feel that I know what she deserves and when she deserves better. I’ve made myself an enemy in her current girlfriend because of our history, and my disregard for pretty much all shame. Somehow we come out of every conflict stronger. We fall in and out of each others personal circles and remain close through it all. She’ll be in my life forever and I’ll be in hers. I thank her, and appreciate everything she’s done for me for me in helping me accept and celebrate myself. She’s one who is always on my side, unfalteringly. She’ll never play devil’s advocate with me, she’ll just be there for me. She’s true and good, and flawed and sad and a perfect friend for me in a lot of ways. We never thought about the consequences of those silly breathless nights in her basement all those years ago but I’ll never regret them, or think back on them with nothing but chuckles and blushes. Here’s to the platonic make out friend, they really are the best.

A Playlist for You

*I will coincide these with my “To the ones I’ve loved before” series <3*

A Playlist for You 

  1. Bad Things by Machine Gun Kelly feat. Camilla Cabello
  2. Liability by Lorde
  3. Breathe Again by Sara Bareilles
  4. She Used to be Mine by Sara Bareilles
  5. Strangers by Halsey feat. Lauren Jauregei
  6. Shape of you by Ed Sheeran
  7. Chains by The Sweeplings (Nick Jonas cover)
  8. Good to You by Marianas Trench
  9. BLUE by Troye Sivan feat. Alex Hope
  10. Talking Body by Tove Lo

To the ones I’ve loved before (P.3)

“You want to share this with me?” I was staring way deep into the bonfire, my brain hazy when his voice pulled me from my head. I turned my head slightly to the left where his hand held half a chocolate bar out to me. I smirked. Oh this boy knew how to charm a girl. I didn’t love s’mores, but I sure loved chocolate.

We met in May 2013, at a summer bonfire through mutual friends on my first day back from my school in New York. My best friend was close with his best friend at the time and I have a sneaking suspicion he was brought there to meet me. I was 19 about to turn 20 and he was a year older. I had just finished a diatribe against traditional relationships for a small audience of my high school friends and meant every word of it. I wanted a handsome human (gender irrelevant to me) to take care of all my needs (amirite ladies), and teach me some lessons (I was dipping my toes into what would end up being my kink identities), with none of the silly entanglements involved. It was a good party. There were strong drinks and fun people, including him. He was charming and funny and, presumably as he went to an Ivy League School, very smart. We fed off each other and bantered and talked about school and abyss of the “after-school” time. We were propelled forward by jello shots and keg beer and at the end of the night he asked me for my number. I was playing designated driver to my close friend and plus one who was truly and properly hammered, slurring and stumbling and trying desperately to go home with a boy I went to high school with. While we were all saying goodbye to the hosts I stood in front of the boy I hardly knew and leaned backwards, tilting my head against his chest. He was warm and comfortable and clearly as into me as I was trying to be into him. His hand found the exposed skin of my waist and ran his thumb over it slowly, it was foreplay and we both knew it.

We wouldn’t actually have sex until much later, when we were officially an ~item~. I would stall the process as long as I could because, ha, I had unresolved traumas and also I wasn’t really into men anyways.   He was exactly everything everybody thought I would be with. He was a boy first and most importantly of all. He had goals and he had ambitions and he had a plan to achieve them. He went to a good school, he was polite, he loved my family and they loved him. I started to love him because I was supposed to.

But he was also manipulative, and controlling, and invalidated my sexuality and identity at every turn. He would get angry and attempt to forbid me to spend time with one of my best friends, with whom I just happened to have a romantic and sexual history. He didn’t understand or try to understand when I came out to him about my sexuality and also my various kink identities. He tried to understand how to handle me and my submissiveness.  He tried to listen when I spoke about my eating problems and my relationship with my dad. But he only listened to respond. He only listened because he thought he would have something constructive to say when in reality he liked to hear himself talk.

I didn’t respect that relationship at all. We had only been together for three months when I slept with someone else for the first time, and that continued for nearly a year. The day before I finally ended it I slept with two people. At the same time (post about them to come).

I like to think this series is a nice way for me to decompress from past relationships. I think though for particular person it’s helping me identify all the ways I did things wrong. It would have been so much easier and less hurtful for all involved. I knew when we got together I didn’t actually want a relationship. I knew that going back to school in the fall would be much more satisfying and fun if I were single. But he was exactly who I was expected to be with, I had to give it a chance. He was my last ditch attempt at being straight, and people what my family wanted.

I shouldn’t have used him in this way, especially since the end of this relationship hit him so hard for a while. I learned some lessons and we all moved on. Time will only tell I guess if I learned well enough.

To the ones I’ve loved before (P.2)

I hate this, I miss you so much.” The text received at four in the morning today didn’t surprise me as much as it probably should have. I answered, “What do you hate?” I knew full well this was going to be another upsetting, self-deprecating conversation with this person I used to call my friend at the least, and the person I loved at the most.

We met online, through a NSFW blog I used to run (and recently started again). I started this blog for selfish reasons such as compliment fishing and making people tell me the filthy things they thought about me but then this person appeared asking for my name, and my favorite color, and my birthday. This was a person who lived far far away, and sent me pictures of his cat and sweet messages about my personality and not my tits (but also messages about them) to try and win my trust. Eventually he did. Eventually he learned my name and, roughly, where I lived and all of my favorites and desires and kinks and everything important.

We talked constantly. We talked on the phone, we texted, we Skyped, we were in constant contact for the better part of my sophomore year of school and nobody knew.

In no way was I ready to admit my feelings for him. He was nothing to me, a passing ship, a friend I was occasionally naked on camera for and it remained that way for nearly a year. He was madly in love with me, or so he said over and over and over again. He begged me to love him back, he begged for my love and my affection and my kisses and touches. He said all the right things. And I never gave in.

Until I did. I was at my roommate’s house for a weekend in February and complaining to her about this boy who I loved but could never tell and she just told me to do it. “Seriously Katie just do it like honestly I’m tired of you talking about this.”

She was kidding kind of but only kind of. So I did. He was badgering me to just admit that I loved him and was crazy about him and wanted him just as badly as he wanted me so I did.

And then he was gone.

No contact for months and months and months.

Over the years he attempted to make amends for this. He tried to make up for leaving me completely in the dust, thinking he had died or something.

 

Writing this is terrible. I remember how alone I felt without him and this is coming out fragmented and in all run on sentences and depressed ramblings and I don’t know how else to get this out. It’s now been nearly 5 years since he left me like that and I’ve never really forgotten about it. His texts are random and still unsurprising and just as shattering as they always were. Every boy I’ve been with since knowing him have fallen victim to my insecurities because of him. My last serious boyfriend would read my texts after finding out about this guy because he was so angry I was talking to someone else.

I feel nothing for him anymore, not a single thing. Not even any warm friendship feelings (hear that babe, nothing). I pick up the necklace he had custom made for me (which is beautiful) and the dress he sent to me (which fits perfectly somehow) and think of nothing but the leaving. All I can think is all the leaving he always did. All I can think is all the showing up he demanded from me, all while never ever showing up for me.

I need someone who will be there, unfailingly, unfalteringly, constantly. I need someone to fucking show up for me and never leave. I have that. I finally have that and she’s incredible and wonderful to me and for me and deserves so much more than me.

He doesn’t deserve to demand anything else of me anymore, or to tell me he misses me at four in the morning. I don’t want to fucking hear it.