Saturday, 20 November 2010

Letter of Apology

This isn't a story. And it's not easy for me to tell. This is something I carry with me. It wasn't easy to write because it was pretty personal. I would send it to the person herself but.. if someone reads this and it helps them realize how hurtful they can be, then I'll be glad. It's so easy to be cruel when you're part of a group. But that doesn't make it any more acceptable.


Here's the thing. I was bullied as a child. But that's not the story. That story is too easy to tell. Covered in a patina of humor and nostalgia, that story is kind of a fun story. It's a story I pull out and tell during lulls in dinner conversation.

The story is that I was a bully.

I never spent very long at a school. Grade school wasn't particularly special. It flew by in a haze of jump rope, school yard taunts, oddball teachers, and kool-aide. At the beginning of middle school, my parents, in their infinite wisdom decided to move me somewhere new. Awkward and new, I didn't fit in very well. I never managed to make any real friends and I disliked most of the kids around me. Not to be outdone, most of them disliked me too. I was subjected to some impersonal bullying and petty little taunts. I had some people I was friendly with, I had some people I was unfriendly with... it wasn't really a big deal. Then I moved again.

I moved to smaller school where everyone seemed to be the same. Determined that I wouldn't repeat my last experience I decided to be friends with *everybody*. Except this one girl. Because there's always a girl in these stories. If I wasn't that girl, then someone had to be, right?
The girl wasn't our friend. The girl wasn't *any body's* friend. She was different you see. She didn't understand us and we didn't understand her. If I was a better person, I would have felt a sense of kinship for this girl who could not manage to belong. That wasn't the case.

I hated this girl. The girl who did nothing but be herself. This girl had so much pressure bearing down on her. Daughter of a teacher, new to the school, different, afraid.. we could have been friends I think, if I was a better person. But you see everyone else hated her too. So why should I be different?

I wasn't. Except sometimes I think I was more cruel than anyone. I tortured this girl. I snubbed her, I mocked her, I called her names.. one time I even raised my hand to her in anger. I wish I could say I felt but about it but.. the more horrible I was to her, the better I felt. You see, I said to myself, she deserves it. She's too strange, too different, she doesn't belong with us. After all, everyone else was doing it.

The only person I know who was smart enough and brave enough to say no was my friend, M. She refused to judge the girl for being something other. She was kind to her. Often she would tell us to lay off the girl. M couldn't stop us though, no one could. I wish someone had.

I will always regret my cruelty to that girl. Who was brave enough to keep being herself through three years of torture. Who tried her hardest not to let us break her. I hope we didn't break her.
The story could end here, with me carrying these regrets, wondering what happened to the girl I bullied. But we live in a digital age. We live in the era of facebook and twitter. Every life you touched will find a way back to you.

The girl, she got back in touch with me a while back. She was friendly and sweet to me. She's happily married with kids. She seems well adjusted. We've never really spoken of those years we spent in the same school. I've never asked her to forgive me. I don't think I have the right. But I will apologize.

A? I'm sorry. I hope you don't carry any pain from those years. I hope you know that I regret every horrible thing I said or did to you. I hope you're happy, I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.

Saturday, 13 November 2010

Bad Romance

Disclaimer: I don't know that I like this really. It was simmering for a while then it kind of died in production. It feels a bit like a place holder just because I didn't want to get out of the habit of weekly posts. For some reason I'm finding the male psyche particularly inaccessible tonight.

Mild heterosexual content. Practically G-rated. Romantic? Atypical male pov. I guess.


She's the kind of girl who'll always take that first sip of coffee too soon, no matter how many times it burns her tongue. She can't hold on to patience. Besides, she tells him, it's worth it. That's how she is.. grabbing every moment and living it like it's special. Ordinary everyday things like coffee and newspapers and walking across the yard. She wants to touch, taste, smell, hear, see everything. She tells him she wants to eat sunlight. Sometimes he's afraid she'll devour him whole. Oddly enough, he's not afraid.

He once told her she was the most adventurous girl he knew. She laughed and shook her head. I'm not though. I'm not anything really. I like living, that's true but sometimes I'm very boring. I like the fact that I'm pretty ordinary. I've got.. you know... She waved her hands in an all-compassing gesture that could have meant anything from chaos theory to dish washing... layers.

You're like an onion. Because he was a moron. But she only looked at him fondly and told him he didn't really have a way with words tonight. Then she removed his palm from his face, touched her fingers to her lips, then to his cheekbone. I like it.

The thing is, he could see his future in her. Every moment stretched into forever. It wasn't just love. It was all his years with her laid out before him. He could see the house and the children and the life they'd have. With all it's ups and downs, its joy its stifling domesticity even the fights they'd sometimes have. He couldn't believe how much he wanted it. Only with her. She didn't know it yet but he's already committed to her.

Still, it was almost like he couldn't tell her. A thousand fathers, brothers, grandfathers, uncles, friends stood in his way. That wasn't what guys did. Endless generations of men in his head demanded to know what kind of pansy he was. Maybe he wanted to give her one of his little handbags, balls included.

You're wrong he told them. You've always been wrong. He was glad that he's never really listened to them. With some guys it took an extraordinary moment to shove those voices down, and there were always those who never managed to do it. Maybe he wasn't quite as good as the guys who never heard that crap from their selves to begin with, but he was proud of the fact that he'd never bought into it. Not once in his life.

He caught her wrist before she could dance away and told her. She smiled with delight and said it back.

I love you.

Saturday, 6 November 2010

Playing Favorites

Disclaimer: Pure smut. Seriously, this is porn with absolutely no redeeming value whatsoever. You have been warned. I wash my hands of this. Seriously. It's just wrong. If you're not legal and I find out you read this I will personally find you and kick your ass. Not in a good way.


Sometimes we'll fuck in the daytime, warm and lazy in our unmade bed while the golden afternoon sun shines in through the open window. Curled up together exchanging whispered endearments... sex is slow and sweet as molasses. Our lips touching and our limbs intertwined I can't tell where she ends and I begin as her fingers move inside of me. My heart feels full to exploding with all I feel for her and I know that I have nothing to hide. I love you I tell her. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. I whisper it over and over as my lips brush over her mouth, her nose, her cheekbone. I can't get enough of those moments. Making love.. it sounds so trite, so clich├ęd but at that moment, I don't care. There's nothing quite like it. It's beautiful. But it's not my favorite thing.

Sometimes it happens that we're out... and we can't resist the urge. Surrounded by bodies and music, I whisper in her ear, I want you. We'll scramble out the back, into the dark alley. It might be stupid but I feel like I'll die if I can't have her right there. I push her up against the wall, push her collar aside, bite down on knotted muscle and then lick and kiss the pain away, an apology of sorts. I palm her breast and push her dress up, grind my thigh against her. Theres nothing but damp thin cotton between my skin and her pussy. I press harder as she rubs herself against me. Her fingers dig into my skin as she grabs my shoulder. Harder she grunts, and I give it to her. I laugh, I'm so turned on but this is fucking crazy. It's dark and there's no one near but anyone can walk in. I tell her that and it turns her on even more. Fuck but she's hot. Gasping harshly, she comes right there with the brick wall digging into her back. It's the wildest thing we've ever done, but it's not my favorite.

She loves to be in control and she loves to force me out of it. She loves to drive me out of my mind. She's slowly, purposely, driving me crazy. I don't know how long it's been but it feels like forever. Her wicked fingers and her sinful mouth bring me to the edge over and over again. I'm drenched in sweat and every muscle in my body is rigid with tension. It's been too long, so much.. too much. Every single fucking time I think this is the time, she draws away and leaves me grasping at the feeling she's denying me flees with her touch. The sheets are starting to feel like sandpaper against my skin. Her touch is torture, too much and not enough, never enough. I curse her name with every ragged breath. And still she denies me. I feel like I've been crying, begging, pleading for ever but every time I think she'll relent she proves that her heart is made of fucking stone the cunt. My breath is harsh to my own ears and I can hear my heart pounding. I fucking hate her, why won't she just give me what I need? I promise her anything, everything if she'll just let me come. But she won't, she'll only let me when she's good and ready. When I've lost every shred of sanity. My fingers scrabble at the sheets, simultaneously wanting contact and shying away from feeling. I can't anymore. I'm seconds from pushing her away and taking matters into my own hands. I just can't take anymore. I can't. Just when I think I'm about to break, just when I think I'm about to scream, it hits me. She finally letting me find my release. I am blindsided by my orgasm. I don't know who or what I am anymore. All I know is pleasure, white hot sliding through me. It's the most intense thing I've ever felt.

I'm wrung out, barely able to lift me head as she lays a gentle, almost chaste kiss on my lips. Good? She asks. I smile and nuzzle her face. She always knows how to give me exactly what I crave. And that? That's my favorite thing

Now Playing: Mercy - Duffy