I Said No

Chapter three

How did this happen to me? I'm not a slut. I've only had sex with Kyle. My Kyle. Kyle was supposed to be who I got married to. I was only supposed to have sex with Kyle! I saved myself all those years. I was the last of all of my friends to have sex.

I waited until I was in love, until I was sure. And yeah, we had been on a break for almost two years, but I still loved him and he still loved me. We still hung out, we still talked, we still had sex. We were supposed to get back together. We were supposed to get married. What now?

He had dated other people. So I dated other people. He had hurt me. But I never went further than making out with anyone else. I didn't even care if he had other girlfriends. I didn't care about what he was doing. All I cared about was our time—Our love. There was still so much love there. Eventually it would work out. Eventually he would realize we were supposed to get back together. Now what? Would I be impure now? Would I be dirty? Would I be too slutty? Would I be unworthy?

I feel myself rocking in fetal position. The same position I've been in all night. In this chair, downstairs, in the corner. Rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth. Holding myself. Crying a silent cry. Tears streaming down my face, but not one sound out of my mouth. I am thinking about what just happened and Kyle. And what should I do. And me being impure.

Kyle and I haven't spoken for the last couple months besides a drunk hookup recently. But I can't get him out of my head.

He slept with one of my friends, or old friend, or ex friend... Lacey.

It was Kyle's birthday, his 21st birthday. Everyone went out to the bars, but I'm only 19 so I couldn't join the fun and had to stay home. My friend asked me to watch her daughter. I happily obliged and all was well. Normal babysitting. Lacey came home, I went home. Then, later that week, she texts me that she needs to tell me something and that I need to come over after work. I come, she cries and tells me that she made out with Kyle. I cried, went home, hated her for a second and then realized they were drunk. Making out with my ex was not the end of the world. We reconciled and then the real truth came out by a mutual friend. They had actually had sex. While I was watching her child.

My ex, who I had just had sex with three days before his birthday. The ex that I was still madly in love with. The ex that I was literally sick and puking and couldn't eat for days after he told me he wanted to go on a break. My ex. My Kyle.

But he's who I am thinking about. He's who I am worried about. He's who I am still enamored by; My asshole ex boyfriend that I am still in love with. And I don't even have a friend to talk to about this all. Lacey could jump off a cliff, Layla was probably still hungover and Andrea, Andrea still stings. She used to be one of my closest friends, but after hearing about my Lacey and Kyle drama, told me she couldn't be my friend anymore. She told me that my entire life had been consumed by Kyle and I couldn't just break free of him. I couldn't just end it. I couldn't get over him.

She felt that by me not telling her I had recently had sex with him, I was lying to her. Which I guess I was somewhat not telling her all of the truth. She was tired of hearing about him. I knew that. I had been avoiding talking to her about him. She didn't understand what I was going through. She is perfect; Skinny, athletic, popular, blonde, green eyed, with so much confidence that it made you feel more confident just by standing next to her. She is someone who radiates a genuine essence. She is beautiful inside and out. She is a good person. She never had to be in as much pain as me. She was smart, she ended it with her ex when things got too bad. She didn't let it continue on and break her. But I couldn't. I was addicted to Kyle.

I am addicted to Kyle.

I told Andrea, if she couldn't handle me and my life, we couldn't be friends. I even called her to tell her. I broke up with her over the phone. I was cold and cut her out of my life, even though she tried to fix it. She tried to hug me and make it better and I just got in my car and drove away. When thinking of Andrea, I always think of that Marilyn Monroe quote, 'if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.'