All I wanted was a week

Jan 21, 2014

I was naïve to believe we could continue like this. Stuck at the crossroads of having to decide what’s more important to me; the friends or the benefits. I’m not ready. I ask for a week.

“So what now?” 

 “You’re only back for a week before you leave for work. Can we not have an amazing week next week? End it on a high, and then decide how we want to distance ourselves when you go back to work?”

“The last week we spent together was magic; I haven’t ever in my life spent a better week with a girl. You’re so easy to be with. You don’t piss me off my being boring or stupid like 99% of girls do. I believe another week like that would only solidify feelings”

“It works in my head. In my head we have this amazing week. Filling every moment together with fun and sex, knowing things are changing. We end what has been some of the best times for each of us how we should; perfectly, on a high note. We will always have this week to look back on; we will always remember this perfect week with fondness.
Maybe it’s just the writer in me. I always did say that if I were to write our story it would never start now. I would have us run into each other years from now, when our lives have gone separate ways. We will meet on a day when we are finally ready for each other; you’ll make me laugh and fall in love with my giggle like it never left.”
Teary, he tells me that would be perfect. 

“So can we do it for the story, just this once?” 

“Do it for the story.”


I feel like a stranger in his bed. Unsure if my presence is even really wanted, for the first time I have to work at achieving an orgasm.

We try something new and my mind snaps. Suddenly I’m ten years old. In the distance I hear someone calling out “It’s just me. You’re safe it’s just me.” Unsure if the voice or visions are my true reality; a prisoner of my memories I push him away crying begging him to stop.

After what feels like an eternity his voice becomes clear. His touch shocks me back to his room, back to his arms. His touch both consoles and devastates me. I answer each desire; I obey every request fearful that he will notice I’m disappearing in front of him.

 A shell of my former self I need to run. Take me as far away from this man as time permits. It’s coming and I don’t wish for any witnesses. Unable to control the shaking he won’t let me go. “You can’t drive in this state! I understand if you don’t want to share the bed with me, you can sleep in the spare room if you want. But you are not leaving this house like this!” Collapsing onto his bed, unable to hold it back any longer I let it all run through me.

I cry for every broken promise. I cry for the scared ten year old girl in her room wishing for it to be over. I cry for every time I wished for someone to save me and no one came. I cry that I wasn’t able to save myself.

I just hope he does not feel responsible for my flashback. I pray that he does not carry even a splinter of guilt. I am sick of one man’s actions all those years ago being a destructive force in my life.

After a broken 3 hours of sleep we awake to pick up his car. Conversation is forced; he seems further away to me now than he ever has at work. My insides are shredded and my self-worth is draining. I don’t care that he has a date tonight, I couldn’t give a fuck if he slept with every girl he knows. How could I care if all I can think of doing is the same thing? My mind is racing, my self-esteem depleted I crave the silencing of thoughts that only meaningless casual sex provides. I crave someone to make me feel like the object I believe I am.

I try to take over my intrusive thoughts. You’re not this person anymore. You don’t want to be. Please just let this go, or you will end up hurting so much more than yourself. I love you more than any of this.  Regaining some self-control I refuse to give in to my temptations. I choose this life I have built for myself, leaving the past where it belongs.


The next day he calls it off. Whatever ‘it’ was.

Doing it for the story is suddenly a bad idea. It’s too confusing. He can’t spend another night with me. He feels pressured. His last break we spent too much time together, he couldn’t say no to me. I want to remind him of his own words just a few days earlier…“The last week we spent together was magic; I haven’t ever in my life spent a better week with a girl. You’re so easy to be with. You don’t piss me off my being boring or stupid like 99% of girls do. I believe another week like that would only solidify feelings.” but I hold my tongue.

I could speculate an infinite amount of reasons for his freak out. I could examine every word, every action, every tone. But what will that achieve? Why should he be punished for merely being honest, for saying no?

In the end it simply comes down to what is more important; the friends or the benefits.

Take the sex away and he is still my best friend. Simple as that.

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