You only wanted me at night.
I would do for now. None of the others responded, or they had other plans. You couldn't bear to sleep alone, so I guess I would do.
You tried to disguise it as a friendship. You'd put on music or a YouTube video. My favorite was the bears!
You'd talk to me about work, the union, renovations, hunting, NASCAR, and, on rare occasions, politics. That one always ended up frustrating you. My views seemed crazy to you. Acceptance. What a terrifying idea!
At least you were polite about it when you'd reached your limit. I heard you yell once, even if you won't admit it. I heard you yell once.
It was scary at first, but then trauma took over and whispered, Now this turns you on so much.
You told me you only wanted me in bed. I always enjoyed going three or four rounds with you. There was so much feeling in the way you touched me. Deny it all you want, but it was there. That thing between us.
You liked my attention. For a while, you even craved it.
You told me you loved me first. I enjoyed hearing those words so much, but I couldn't return them. I truly didn't believe you meant them.
I misunderstood what you meant when you said, "I have to be a better person."
You were never a bad person to me.
But I should have realized then. You were never going to choose a life with me by your side. Whatever love was there only seemed to exist when you wanted me to pleasure you.
I became a doormat, believing that one day you'd go back to loving me again.
That was never going to happen.
The last time you pulled away from me, I saw it in your eyes. The lack of interest. The way you quickly turned your gaze from mine and walked away.
I died a little in that moment.
I knew then that I needed to stay away.
But then night came.
My body craved you so badly. As soon as I lay down alone in my bed, I wanted to reach out and touch you. To feel you there beside me. To have one more night where I could pretend I was something more.
But there was no response.
I have to get used to that.
My feelings were never your concern. As long as I could pleasure you, we were good.
Until I couldn't anymore.
You stopped finding pleasure in me. There was someone else who had your attention. She had kind of always been there. But when you didn't have access to her, I would do.
Not anymore.
There is no pleasure left in being someone's second choice. No comfort in knowing I was good enough when no one else was available.
One last hug, with a boob grab as you exited my car.
Fitting, really.
My tits were always your favorite. They were the first part of me you said hello to every time we were together.
Only at night.
Always at night.
