Today called for a lot of relaxation to calm my nervous system. I got dropped off in town and came upon the Community Center. It seemed there was a church service going on which sounded really resonant today. I walked in then almost immediately felt as if I was getting kicked out. I came in wearing a t-shirt, shorts and my torn apart shoes. The greeting lady stood in front of me as if studying my appearance before letting me pass.
“Is this church?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said as she actively studied my eyes and intentions.
“Can I see?”
“Sure,” she said hesitantly.
I walked to the back to peek inside then noticed they were all singing in Spanish. She followed me without my knowing and watched me closely.
Ah, she must think I’m homeless.
I thanked her then left the premises.
I walked across the street to the park to drink some coffee and write but got distracted by a hot basketball player. He was shooting hoops with his young daughter. I was still hurting over what apparently occurred with Robson and I could feel it in the way I looked at the stranger.
At first he was quite a distance from me. He looked over at me a couple of different times then at his daughter and said, “Let’s move to that hoop, it’s a better net.”
It was the same exact hoop as the other one, but he was giving me the fuck me eyes so I knew what he was about. He was trashy but his hands and tattoos had me hooked. I made it very obvious I was staring at him. Anytime I took my eyes off him for more than a minute he would dribble the ball closer to me to get my attention. Eventually, I began laughing at our speechless bantering then broke the silence with a conversation.
We flirted then just as I was about to exchange information with him, a woman suddenly came up to me with a big smile and said, “Hey, I just wanted to invite you to church. We have it starting at 10:30 right over there in the grass. You are welcome to join us.”
I thanked her and she walked away. It could not have been more clear that that was my sign from God. The throbbing in my pussy relaxed. I knew I needed a message from Jesus rather than getting my pussy stuffed.
“What are you doing the rest of the day?” I asked him.
“Bringing my daughter to a birthday party,” he said. “What about you?”
I stared at him in a way that suggested I needed God today.
“You’re going to go to church, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
And so we parted ways, turning around to look at each other until he officially drove off. Then, I went and I sang the Christian songs and felt it all purify me.
The message from service, once again, hit right in the heart. “God places you in a strategic way,” the pastor said. “He has a plan for your life and He is going to use you. God wants you, it doesn’t matter who you are. Acknowledge Him for He is dealing with your heart.”
A woman from the church approached me as I was sporadically writing everything down. She knelt down to my level and must’ve seen the pain in my heart.
“Is there anything I could pray for you?” she asked.
My eyes welled up. “It’s sensitive,” I said, the wound still fresh.
She asked if I wanted to be born again. Not quite sure what it meant but I said yes. She held my hand as we closed our eyes and I repeated after her in prayer. It didn’t matter to her the reason I couldn’t keep myself together. The prayer would move through me regardless.
“He knows what’s on your heart,” she reminded.
Tears filled behind my closed eyes. I opened them and felt the wet heat roll off my cheeks and into my lap.
“Thank you,” I said.
“God will always love you,” she said. “His love for you will never alter. No matter what.”
After service, I found Nolen had sent me various messages, explaining in a scientific way as to why he felt people were unable to get enough of me. He explained why men, and women for that matter, grew so weak and intoxicated around me. My inbox itself was full of pictures/videos from recent lovers, their skin covered in scabs as fleeting love markings from having been fucked by me. They claim they like me, most even claim that I’m their dream girl. They say meeting me is like running into magic. They say we’re meant to run away together, into the unknown. To dive deep through valleys and run high through mountains rather than just be flat. They say I cast a spell on them, but is it much of a spell if it wears off?
All of the words and sentences sound as if they have been copied and pasted over the last string of years in my life. It is a pattern, nothing more. I don’t really allow myself to experience excitement over it anymore for it hurts to be proven time and time again that the words they say aren’t really what they mean.
I could say it’s a self-worth thing to not feel the joy that comes from trusting men. But is it a self-worth thing if the same experiences keep occurring? I can prophesize exactly where things are going, reading them like a book and predicting their next line as if I have a printed out script in my hands.
Say your line.
“I understand your apprehension,” one says. “Keep being you. That’s who I like.”
What happens when I ask for something I need? Now I’m ‘too much.’
What happens when I express my emotions? Now I’m a ‘victim.’
It feels as if I’m going back and forth with my own ego—one day finding my worth, the next day questioning everything I am—traveling the gaps of uncertainty until I am met with exhaustion.
Jemma happened to reach out to me, letting me know she was in Cali, San Diego specifically. We got a kick out of it when I told her I was, too. I asked if she wanted to go out for dinner. She was down, 700 tagged along, too.
We drove out as he gave me a spiel about the stock market and taxes.
“I just recently started doing taxes!” I said. “I still have no idea what I’m doing, but my taxist is taking care of everything for me.”
I was that new to the game that I didn’t know the proper term was an accountant. 700 didn’t even bother to correct me.
He decided to give me a tour of the city and take me the long way. Within a minute of being on the Main Street, I saw a guy picking food from a trash can, a homeless person smoking crack, a van almost hitting another car, then a guy jumping out in front of our car and screaming jubberish at us. Petrified, I looked over at 700 who had a calm smile on his face.
“Welcome to the city,” he said.
We met Jemma at Claim Jumper and I became so shy seeing her all of a sudden—straight stupid. 700 got to be a witness of all my skills going out the window. She looked as beautiful as she did when I last saw her, possibly even more so.
She had a straw she was seductively chewing on. I wanted to capture her with a professional camera as her image alone appeared as art before my eyes. We couldn’t stop staring at each other, often breaking out in girlish giggles. We were most definitely making 700 feel like a third wheel.
Food was great, then we even ordered a massive slice of chocolate cake since he said it was to die for. He was right. Then, I asked him to leave for a few minutes while Jemma and I talked privately. She offered to take me back home so we could spend extra time together. I said yes!
Then, 700 walked us to her car.
“Okay, bye 700!” I teased, trying to get him to leave so I could spend some quality time with Jemma.
She could feel my heart was heavy after Robson so offered a safe space for me to share/express. I cried, confessing I was tired of trying for something real.
I noticed how I made the bare minimum appear as if it was the world to me. “I mean, he booked a ticket all the way out here to see me.”
She immediately dismissed it. “That’s nothing,” she said, “it’s like an hour flight for $60.”
Honestly, all I wanted was for someone to fully enjoy my company without them having to bend over backwards to prove that to me. I just wanted to know it, without ever questioning it. Yet it seemed only to be a fleeting dream.
She parked in front of 700’s house. I told her the most I wanted to do was make out but then we ended up groping each other’s tits while she pressed her leg into my yoni the way I liked.
She paused multiple times to remind me that I was worthy, looking into my eyes to get me to capture the feeling for myself, but her words were just noise to me. I tried to hear them and feel them yet there was some sort of coldness in understanding them.
Worth? Ha! Might as well be a foreign concept to me.
We talked about the intense things I wanted in the bedroom. She pointed out that what I liked was not as healthy/playful as I was trying to convince myself it to be.
She studied my blank eyes. “There comes a point where it is no longer a kink and instead becomes a pattern.”
