I grabbed his flaccid cock in the morning then hardened him up so he could give me a good morning fuck. We went at it pretty hard. I enjoyed when he removed his glasses as it turned him into a more aggressive kine character.
Afterwards, I started to get dressed since 700 and his girl were on their way to pick me up. I played with the heavy set of ropes Robson had brought, excited for our upcoming trip to Joshua. I wished it could be today but I liked to stick to plans I made with friends as best I could.
Just before I left, he kindly requested, “Please don’t write anything bad about me.”
“I would never,” I said. “People are always so scared of what I will write, but I just tell it like it is.”
They picked me up. I showed Robson off to them, clearly head over heels for him. Before I left and while I was gone, I again expressed to Robson that nothing was going on between 700 and I, not even with his girl. I wanted to make sure he felt safe, especially if I were to be spending the night at their place.
We went back to his home for them to cook me my all time favorite breakfast. I loved how I felt around 700’s presence. He seemed real and blunt, a quality I was always drawn to. His girl was something special, too—kind voice, wholesome heart and very much in her feminine.
Being around him brought up intense memories of Voodoo since we were all mutual friends. He updated me on how V bought a motorcycle and fixed up his teeth. I felt saddened hearing it as I found him so incredibly handsome as he was, the crooked teeth actually being one of my biggest turn ons about him. When I love, I love hard. What they perceive as imperfections are my favorite parts about them. The scars, the teeth, the acne—nothing could turn me off when my heart is in it.
We reminisced old memories of V and I on the AT which eventually led to the heartbreaking ones. 700 saw the rising of our relationship and parts of our downfall.
He downplayed what I experienced and said, “Oh, I thought it was actual abuse, like you getting black eyes and stuff.”
I released a breath as I received a timeline of V’s unleashed anger. I was sick of people not understanding what I went through or putting it aside as if it wasn’t the most difficult time in my life. Maybe it was because I still smiled when I talked about him. Maybe it’s because I downplayed the experience, especially around friends and family. Maybe people wouldn’t ever truly understand because they weren’t the ones that lived it.
I looked him in the eyes and said, “Voodoo was the most traumatic thing I went through in my life.”
“Seriously?!”
“Yes. I just don’t think anybody takes me seriously because I romanticize it. I can’t help but view him lovingly despite what occurred.”
“That boy loves you,” he said. “He just could feel you slipping away and he didn’t know how to deal with it so he lashed out.”
“All he had to do was be nice.”
“Mm I don’t think so. I think you would have left regardless.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“The stars must’ve been in alignment,” he said, “because Voodoo was actually going to book a flight to visit me today but I told him I couldn’t have two guests over.”
In one sense it felt crazy that he was going to show up at the same place as me without having any idea I was there, but not surprising as we were connected in some deep way I couldn’t really comprehend on a conscious level.
After we ate, we went on a hike that started just outside their neighborhood. Then, they took me to a local bouldering spot to get my climbing fix. While driving there and as we hiked up to the rock cliffs, I suddenly felt sinking feeling waves come over me. I felt in my stomach something was terribly wrong. I knew it had to do with Robson. It was as if I could feel something concurring between him and Helga.
“This looks like a good one,” 700 said after he spotted some climbers going up the crack of a rock.
“Mind if we watch you guys?” Scenic asked.
“Yeah go for it,” one of the guys said. “Wanna give it a go? We’re just doing laps.”
“Yes!” I said. “The cracks are my favorite.”
I stood there waiting to give it a go.
“Oh my god. I thought you were kidding,” he said.
700 started laughing and said, “No, she’s totally serious. This girl doesn’t fuck around. She will take you up on your offer.”
“But I didn’t bring my shoes,” I said.
“I have a women’s size 8 and 1/2,” his buddy said. “You think that’ll work?”
I slipped them onto my feet. “Perfect.” Then, they put the harness on me. “Okay, what do I do?”
He grabbed his shoe for demonstration.
“Okay, first, you’re going to wedge your foot into the crack like so. Then, you’re going to twist it like this.” He turned it 90°, twisting it in a way that looked like it would break your foot.
“That’s not even humanly possible,” I said.
“Next,” he continued, “you’re going to jam your arm into the crack.”
“You’re fucking nuts,” I said, then grabbed some chalk and went for it.
I was going strong until I made it to the crux of the climb, meaning the most challenging part. That’s when everyone started yelling at me.
“Shove your hand and foot into the crack!”
“Shove it in deep!”
“Put your hand inside. Deep inside the crack!”
I grew frustrated and yelled back. “It fucking hurts! I’m going as deep as I can!”
I tried a few more times but couldn’t ascend it. The shoes I had on were extremely slippery as well which didn’t help. I made it 2/3 of the way up then they guided me back down.
We all watched as his friend gave it a shot and tried to solve the problem.
“So graceful,” 700 whispered.
Next second, the guy shoved the length of his arm into the crack and screamed, “ARGHHHH!”
“That’s more accurate,” I said.
He made it to the top after some struggling. We cheered him on then I thanked them both for the experience. I exchanged numbers with the guy who was belaying me. He voiced that he wanted to hike the PCT so I told him I could hook him up with places to stay.
“I know this guy 700 who could host you in San Diego,” I teased.
700 laughed. “Yeah, man. I can take you to the terminus.”
We went on our way and hiked back down the mountain. I honestly couldn’t really focus or enjoy my friends as much as I wanted to since my thoughts were circling around Voodoo and wondering if Robson would actually hook up with Helga. I played out fantasies in my head of walking in on them and my heart felt in pain just from the possibility.
“This is why I don’t allow myself to get close,” I muttered.
The very connection I longingly desired with someone was also the most petrifying. Looking into his eyes this morning felt like I wanted so much of him—every part really, yet it terrified me.
What if I try and it fails again?
I was not ready to give away so much of myself. It was clear just by the way I felt around him, in a high anxiety state of ‘what if.’ I was growing nauseous by the second. Something was starting to feel seriously off. I didn’t know why I was getting worked up on someone that didn’t even remotely commit to me.
Why couldn’t I just let it unfold? If a person was really safe for me, would I even be feeling anxious?
Out of a mixture of fear and longing to know the truth, I asked if they could take me back to the hotel. But first, I asked if they could take me to a place that overlooked the city lights. They knew just the spot! We drove through some neighborhoods, up to a small patch of dirt where we sat down and enjoyed a glittering view of San Diego. Everything sparkled and shined like mirror reflections.
700 pointed out the school he went to as a kid. “You probably can’t see what building I’m pointing to but I know where it is,” he said. “I have a core memory of my dad telling me to wait outside after school ended. He said, ‘Stay right here, son. Don’t go anywhere. I will be here to pick you up right in this spot. Just whatever you do, don’t move.’ I was there long after all the other kids had left. Eventually, I walked home since I knew the way. I came home to find my dad passed out with a 40 in his hand.”
“Damn, dude, I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” I said.
“I had memories of my mom with tracks on her arm from drugs, taking my father into the ER because he overdosed and being completely dishonest about what was going on. Not admitting to anything.”
“Did you find drugs in her room?” I asked.
“I mean, I found spoons and needles laying around but as a little kid I didn’t know anything. I figured it was just adult stuff. But you know when something is going on.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s all energetic.”
He desperately wanted an honest relationship with his mother and sister but they couldn’t meet him there. Scenic Route’s father was also an alcoholic. He was never really there for her in the way that she needed. I thought about how helpful it was to know about someone’s past to better understand them and give them grace. I found it incredible how despite their childhoods, they both turned out to be such awesome people.
“Wow this really makes me never want to complain about my family ever again,” I said.
I told Robson I’d be making my way back after we viewed the city lights. His messages became inconsistent. I noticed he talked differently. He asked in how many minutes I’d be back exactly.
He must think I’m an idiot.
If I had my own key, I knew I would walk in on them doing something. I could just feel it. Truthfully, I didn’t even want to go back to the room but all of my stuff was there and the anxiety of wanting to know the reality of the situation got the best of me.
As we were making our way there, Robson started telling me that Helga’s sad because her ex found someone new. He was comforting her. I pictured him holding her in his arms. Next, he’s telling me they’re talking about sex clubs and tantric massage. Finally, she’s telling him he absolutely needs to learn how to give a yoni massage.
Why is he telling me this? I responded with, “….”
It was clear where it was headed and I knew exactly what she was doing. He’s asking again exactly when I would be making my way back, saying, “Helga’s not done being sad.”
What the fuck does that even mean?
“She’s asking me to finger her.”
My stomach started sinking. Eventually I just said, “If you want to, go for it, but I’m going to get another room.”
We pulled into the parking lot.
“I want you,” he wrote. I waited one full minute before he sent another message saying he honestly wanted to finger her to make her feel better but wouldn’t do it if it made me uncomfortable.
Let me get this straight. He said he likes/wants me, but now he’s fingering a girl he claimed he was not even remotely attracted to? There’s a thing called ‘giving advice’ when someone’s sad, not shoving your fingers in her cooch.
“Yeah, no,” I wrote. That’s all I needed to hear. I thanked Spirit for the answer. “I’m going to grab my stuff.”
Then, I screenshotted the messages. “There’s no way I could make this shit up,” I said out loud. “This has got to be a joke. There’s no way any decent person would actually be serious about this.”
It seemed like just when I couldn’t take any more weight, something came around to prove me wrong. There was no way to take that back and I was fully turned off from any further experience with him in a matter of the few seconds it took to read his message.
I put my head to my forehead. 700 and Scenic Route turned to look at me then began laughing at my apparent frustration, getting a kick out of the messages I was reading out loud to them. That one, however, left me speechless.
“Oh no, Freyja has her hand to her forehead,” 700 teased, “he must’ve said something ridiculous.”
I broke down in tears.
“Shit, what the fuck did he say?”
I read it aloud and they sat in the same stunned silence as me. I asked if I could please spend one more night with them.
“I’m sorry he happened to be a dick,” 700 said, “and of course. It’s no problem at all.”
“I’m sorry for all of this,” I said, feeling stupid and embarrassed. “I never expected this to happen. I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“Oh no, it’s great,” he said, “we usually don’t get live entertainment like this.”
I loathed having to find the energy to get my shit together, but it was midnight and my friends and I were tired. They tried to comfort me, asking if I needed them to beat him up or if I wanted 700 to come upstairs with me.
I pulled myself together and said, “Thank you, but no.”
I walked into the room and immediately it was obvious something had occurred. There was a heat in the room and conversations that I knew were being withheld from me. It was clear he didn’t know the power of my intuition. He was playing around with my sincerity, empathy and time. I met them both with a deafening silence, packing my bag while Robson tried getting me to look at him and talk. The last thing I wanted to do was see his face. I didn’t want to hear either one of their points of view when they were very aware of mine.
Although harsh, I was learning about what I deserved and I was standing up for myself much faster. It felt like a release to walk away from bullshit rather than putting up with shit treatment while listening to something that wasn’t going to change my mind about how I felt. I knew we weren’t officially together, and it didn’t bother me that he might be in the dating scene back home, it was the fact that he came out here to see me and instead ended up screwing around with some random chick I brought home.
“Freyja, honest to god nothing happened,” Helga said.
I looked up at her as she showed me a new snake ring she bought. “It’s cute,” I said. “Fitting.”
Today was the day I recognized how it was never the girl’s fault in a situation like this. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t really about her. She was only the one who ripped the bandaid and revealed to me that this was not the type of dude I would ever want to be with. I knew once the heat of the situation passed that I would be grateful for the gift she gave. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have dodged the bullet.
Robson followed me out the door. “Can you please just talk to me? Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Don’t say you like me then say some shit like that.”
“Okay, I hear you.”
“It’s common fucking sense.”
That was the last thing I said before I scurried down the stairs. His presence disappeared as I replayed the memory of him saying, “You deserve good men in your life.” The irony.
My friends opened the trunk so I could throw my pack in. I paused the melodramatic breakdown to ask 700 if he could remove a spider out of the trunk.
“I’m scared of spiders,” I said.
Robson started messaging me a few minutes into the car ride, to which I blocked him. Then, I noticed he slowly started to delete traces of the messages he sent, the ones where he was confessing about wanting to touch her.
“Some shady shit right there,” I said.
I didn’t care to entertain that energy in my life anymore. I mean, I guess I still did since I stayed with him even after the multiple comments he made that revealed to me the type of guy he was. I felt disgusted by the fact I let him touch me so intimately. It would’ve hurt less if he told me to fuck off while he went to screw another girl. At least I would respect him for his honesty. The lying and beating around the bush felt more damaging to my psyche over anything else.
I knew I was resilient and that I could bounce back from experiences like they never even happened, but Jesus, only God knew how tired I was of this shit. I was tired of feeling in a state of adrenaline, doubt and paranoia around men. It was too much on my nervous system, and I’m just simply fucking tired. My heart is too sensitive for dishonesty and lack of transparency. I didn’t want to put any more strain on it that was already heavily there. These small acts of betrayal felt deeply traumatic to me, although I try not to let them be. I can’t help it. I feel the smallest things to the deepest levels.
Behind the tears and behind the partial breaking of my Spirit, I am deeply grateful the veil was lifted so fast. Behind the pain, I knew this was all just a self worth thing on my end. I knew the deep seated fear I had opening up to someone even slightly and that these experiences were coming to me so that I could look at where this insecurity/lack of worth was arising from.
It wasn’t his fault, nor was it hers, nor was it mine. We came to one another perfectly to integrate our specific lessons. I remembered, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Same goes for me. I feel like a child learning how to walk in the game of relating with people and knowing that about myself requires a lot of gentleness for the patterns that come up.
Despite all of it, I am actually proud of myself for being honest, communicating boundaries and revealing my comfort levels to them. I am proud of myself for asking about his intentions with me and for not being sneaky/going behind his back in disrespectful ways. If that was something I could take away from it, that I had the capability to change and show myself I could be a decent person in comparison to an older version of myself, then that was enough for me.
