I became the drunk, ridiculous, flirty woman that used to make me cringe. I became every cliché I had ever hated. I was a drunk; laughing, dancing, flirting, rubbing up against strange men to feel alive and well through all the sexual attention and advances.
I loved having men tell me I was hot as they rubbed up on me, and I loved hearing how they wanted to screw me. I loved it all because it meant someone still wanted me. No matter how gross and drunk they were, I was still wanted by men, which was what I needed to feel after being unwanted by Peter.
No matter how drunk I was I never had sex with them though. I teased the nights away, then always found my escape home alone. I was a dicktease who flirted and kissed, drank and danced, but left alone each time I went out. I was still celibate, but I was a dance floor whore.
For the first few months, Steven and my girlfriends were loving and kind, and they helped me try to get better. They laughed at me as I staggered home or barfed my guts out all night. They made excuses for my drunken behavior, telling people I was simply trying to move on however I could, in whatever way I could. But sadly the attitudes of my friends and brother slowly changed.
Eventually, I became more of a burden than a fun, drunken friend or sister. I was irritating to Kim who was tired of pushing me out of bars when I went a little too far making out with someone all over the dance floor. And I became a nuisance to Steven who would get calls way too frequently from my friends or even from my drunken self to get picked up and brought home.
I began fighting and arguing with everyone, and I was becoming disgusting, even to myself. I knew I was acting like an idiot, but I didn't know how to stop it. I really couldn't control the need to be reckless and drunk, any more than I could stop the feelings that provoked my reckless drunkenness.
I was struggling. And I felt lost.
*****
Then the third week of June came and I finally had one more concrete moment of Peter. I returned home to a blue rose taped to my door with the message ‘Perry's’ and that was it. Perry's.
Panicking, I looked for Perry's however I could in case Peter wanted me to meet him there. I phone booked, and 411'd, but nothing jumped out at me. There were 2 pizza parlors, a nail salon, and an aquatic store, but nothing that made sense. So I expanded my search to include other towns and cities near me which only increased the number of places that made no sense to me whatsoever.
I couldn’t find it, and I didn’t know what Peter was trying to tell me with his stupid clue, or hint, or code, or whatever the hell it was. I didn’t understand what he meant to tell me, so I became frustrated and eventually moved on from the search for Peter again.
At that point Peter had been gone for 3 months- almost exactly the same amount of time we had been together and I couldn't stand all the pain anymore.
When I thought in terms of 3 months, I knew logically it was a tiny amount of time when compared to a lifetime lived. 3 months was nothing. 3 months was a side note to someone's existence- I knew that. But for me 3 months may as well have been my entire 25 years because it felt like that to me.
I felt like my entire life was wrapped in 7 months of actual time distorted into a lifetime of feelings. I had 7 months total of my existence. I felt like I knew nothing but 7 months ever. I didn't remember feeling anything before my 4 months with Peter, and I couldn't process anything but the pain of the 3 months without him.
7 months of my life was the entire sum of my existence, but I continued trying to live.
*****
2 days after Peter’s birthday, on Friday July 6th, Madeline and I went to the mall over lunch to find a wedding dress she needed for the next day.
In the mall we walked and talked and we were relatively comfortable with each other. Though it was only our 4th outing together, we were slowly becoming slightly more than co-workers, and I could almost see the potential of a real friendship in our future.
After stopping in the one store Madeline specifically wanted to look in, we decided on food when no dress could be found. But as we entered the food court, I saw Kara. UN-fuckin-believably, I saw Peter's sister, and I almost screamed.
Suddenly dropping my tray of food on the table I told Madeline to wait there. I didn't ask, and I left no question that she was to stay seated by my tone. I needed to speak with Kara, and she was going to speak with me.
Walking to her table while she tidied up the mess she and a toddler had made, I called her name. Calling as I approached tables away, I knew I was too loud, and I knew my posture seemed too aggressive, but I also knew it was my only chance for answers so I couldn't let it slip away.
“Kara!” I yelled again as she turned around.
Looking utterly confused by me suddenly standing beside her, she picked up her little boy like I might harm him or something, which was odd. Why she thought I was violent or threatening I had no clue, but I didn’t care.
“Sophie?” She asked surprised.
“Yes. Hi. Um, do you know what's going on with Peter? Do you know what happened between us?”
Shaking her head she said no while looking around us like she needed an easy escape.
“Let me just ask this then- Is he married?”
“No,” she exhaled.
“Then what's wrong? We were fine, and suddenly he dumped me. We were so happy until that party with your family, then afterward, right out of the blue he broke up with me. Do you know why?”
“No...” She said bouncing the boy against her hip.
“Did you make him break up with me?” I accused.
“Of course not,” she sounded completely confused by my accusation.
“Then please... Please tell me what happened,” I begged.
“There's nothing to tell. Peter broke up with you. That's all,” she said lying. It was so obvious she was lying on the fly I almost told her off.
“Please, Kara. I know you don't know me but I love him and I desperately want him back but I have to know what happened so I can fix it. Please tell me what happened.”
“Sophie, please leave him alone. You're the one who has him screwed up,” she said as I gasped and cried out but she quickly amended. “Not because of you. Because of him. He can't function with you in his life. He loved you- he was obsessed with you and it was making him make bad decisions. He was screwing up his life and his job to be with you. He was doing everything wrong, and he was going to lose everything he's worked so hard for. He loves you so much he's staying away because he needs to. Please, leave him alone. I love my brother and I like you, but it’s not safe for you to be together. For him, please leave him alone,” Kara actually begged with tears in her eyes, stunning me from everything she said.
“I really don't understand anything you just said to me. What isn’t safe? We were a couple and we loved each other, and we were really happy, and nothing was screwed up between us. Nothing. Our lives were normal,” I said as she shook her head in disagreement. So I tried one last time. “I still love him so much,” I repeated with tears streaming down my face. In the middle of a mall food court with witnesses everywhere, I found myself begging for my life.
“I know you love him, and he loves you. He loves you in a way that made him all twisted up inside because of the things he has to do, and I don't want that for either of you. So please stay away... For him,” she begged again. She begged me to stay away from the man I loved for him. For him?
“You're not making any sense whatsoever. He dumped me, and I'm the one left crazy and dying inside. I was loved and then I was left!” I yelled too loudly. I was so confused standing there with Kara I just couldn’t keep it together.
“I won’t do this with you. So leave it alone,” she snapped grabbing her purse off the bench seat.
Reaching for her sleeve, I just made contact when her head whipped around to me with so much anger I knew to let go of her jacket quickly.
“Sophie, please. This is between you two, but I'm begging you to leave him alone. I have to go, I'm sorry. Please be saf
e. For Peter,” she said softly, again with tears in her eyes that I didn't understand.
Staring at Kara as she turned to leave with the little boy on her hip, I moaned one final time, “But I love him...” And though she nodded she kept walking away from me as I stood shocked by her, and Peter, and my life, and the pain that wouldn't lessen over time.
Eventually, when a table full of old men started speaking loudly again at the table beside me I shook myself back to my sad reality and I returned to the table to a silently eating Madeline.
I sat down looking at all the food I wouldn't touch as I tried to stop the stream of tears falling down my face.
A minute later Madeline took my hand but otherwise ignored me for her food. Holding her tightly I needed her hand to ground me, and I needed her hand to keep me from floating away. I needed Madeline's support so I could breathe through the reality I was facing.
Later that night when I finally returned home after work, I called everyone I knew to go out, but no one was available. So undeterred, I had one hell of a party by myself.
*****
The following Saturday morning in July, when I was again so hung-over I wanted to cry, I remember Kim and Steven sitting me down together to talk. It was actually funny how far they sat from each other because I was sure they were screwing though neither would admit it to me.
Anyway, they sat me down in my dining room and proceeded to lecture me about my drinking and my behavior over coffee. The 2 biggest sluts I knew were lecturing ME on bad behavior, which naturally made me appalled, then humored, then outright offended, until I lashed out at them.
I told Kim she was a slut who fucked any and every man she could, whereas I had slept with 4 men my whole life- all of which I had had long term relationships with. Then I turned on Steven and let him know he was a notorious pig who fucked and ran every chance he had. I told him it was obvious he didn't give a shit about anyone but himself and he was going to be the old pervy pig woman shook their heads at and laughed at behind his back.
I let Kim know she was a slut no man would ever respect, and I let Steven know he was a fucking pig no woman respected.
I said everything I had ever thought, even briefly, and I made it the sole reality between the 3 of us, even though it was anything but. I just needed to strike back at them, so I did. Horribly.
To Steven’s absolute credit he didn't strike back, though clearly because he was more shocked into silence by my anger. He actually bit his tongue while visibly hurt by me. Kim however, not so much.
Kim went for the jugular and slit my throat. Kim destroyed me in a way we would never recover from. If there had been any chance of recovery between us with my endless apologies later for everything I had said to her which though harsh was kind of true nonetheless, we would never recover from everything she said to me.
But it was my fault and I knew it, so I took the full loss of our 11 year friendship as my own doing because I may have taken the gloves off, but she beat the shit out of me with them in self-defense.
Finally, after Kim said every single thing I never wanted to hear, she stood up and slammed out of my apartment. And before I could even breathe through the agony lancing me, Steven stood with only the briefest pause at my door before he too walked out slamming it, leaving me completely alone in a nightmare.
2 hours later, at 1:00 on that awful Saturday afternoon in July, still hung-over but tired of crying and feeling pretty desperate I called Trent, an absolute sure thing for me.
I called Trent because I needed to be with someone who wanted me, and Trent had never been subtle about his want of me. Totally pathetic and desperate, I inhaled deeply and called my sure thing.
“Hello?”
“Hi. It's Sophie.”
“Hey babe. What's up?” He asked.
“Do you think I'm stuck-up and prissy?” I asked abruptly.
“Um, no. Why?” He laughed.
“Can you come over?” I asked with absolute desperation in my voice.
“Sure. When?”
“An hour?”
“Okay... Is everyone else coming over?” He asked with an audible grin.
“No,” I said leaving the potential of his visit in the air between us.
“Okay. I'll see you in an hour,” he said quickly hanging up.
After we hung up I did what any woman would do under the circumstances- I showered, shaved, and put lotion on every inch of my body. I tied my hair up so I didn't have to wash and dry it again, and I wore an adorable little summer dress with a tube-type bodice that ended at my knees.
I spritzed my body with Obsession, and I made sure my makeup was sexy, but natural looking. In other words, I made myself edible, without any confusion about my intentions.
Opening my door to Trent 55 minutes after my call, I was determined. I was beyond determined. I was on a fucking mission. Oh. Ha! I WAS on a fucking mission.
When I opened the door to Trent I wanted no misunderstandings so I just pulled him down to my lips and kissed the shit out of him. I kissed him while moving us into my apartment until he pulled away.
“What's going on, Soph?” He asked with concern. But I didn't want concern, I wanted sex, plain and simple. I wanted sex to make me better, so I made my intentions very clear.
“Please don't be a friend right now. Just be a guy who fucks a girl who wants to be fucked. Just fuck me, Trent. Okay?” I begged.
And after the briefest of pauses while Trent looked at me with concern again, probably from just my language alone, he seemed to take the opportunity for what it was, and then he truly fucked me.
With absolutely no finesse or romance, he popped my breasts from the top of my dress, grabbed hold of my nipples, kissed me hard and had a hand in my underwear under my dress within seconds. He fingered me hard and fast, and before I even understood what I was feeling, he had me on my back on the floor, with him putting a condom on as he looked down at my body. He moved my dress up to my hips, ripped my underwear down my legs, and then he pushed inside me.
Quick and nearly brutal, he thrust into me and continued pounding for 5 minutes without a single kiss or loving touch. He didn't even try to speak, or connect with me. He took me to my word and just fucked me like an inflatable, inanimate toy.
Trent pushed my knees up against my chest and thrust into me so hard I was moved across the throw rug in the living room. I was pushed into the bottom of the couch where I was crammed by my neck. And he kept on thrusting even as I lay at an awkward angle, unmoving, and barely breathing, until he came.
Quick and without any thought of me, he came inside the condom inside me and then he was finished.
He did exactly what I wanted, and I hated myself for it. I wasn't better, and Trent didn't fuck Peter out of my system.
Peter was all around me looking at me with sadness and disgust. Peter was telling me I shouldn't ever be fucked, but that I should be pleasured. Peter was whispering his love and holding me close even as Trent raised up off the floor and walked to my bathroom to clean up.
Peter lowered my dress and fixed the bodice, wrapped me in his arms, and rocked me into the quiet peace I was fighting to maintain. Peter was all around me again, and deep inside me. Trying not to cry, I went a little crazy in Peter’s presence.
Holding in the pain of my loss, I greeted Trent as he walked out the bathroom door, thanked him for coming over with a kiss on the cheek, but told him I had to go out. I dismissed him, and sadly he let me dismiss him without a fuss.
In that one moment between us outside the bathroom I knew without a doubt Trent cared for me as little as I cared for him. So we each accepted the thanks and the end, and he walked out with a casual, 'see ya later,’ as he zipped his jeans closed and walked out my door as quickly as he had entered.
After closing and locking the door behind him, I remember walking back to my bathroom alone on wobbly legs. Scrubbing, I showered away anything from between my legs, which I knew wasn’t arousal, but merely lubrication from the cond
om, and then I entered my room to change.
I changed into my favorite navy pantsuit, brushed my hair down, fixed my makeup and brushed my teeth. I walked back to my bed with the framed picture Peter painted of me for my birthday shaking in my hands, and I crawled into my bed with Peter.
With Peter back, I cried and smiled, and talked to him about our lives together. I told him everything about our future again. I talked about everything I knew to be true of us, and I told him all I knew and felt about him as I whispered my love to him over and over again.
I told Peter about everything Kim said, and I explained how I knew she was wrong. I knew I loved Peter not because he made me less prissy, and not because he was the first guy I had orgasmed with. I knew she was wrong when she said I was a stuck up bitch who was waiting for Mr. Perfect, because I thought I was perfect. I knew she was wrong when she said Peter never loved me, but just fucked me good, and I had arrogantly thought he must have felt the same love for me I had felt for him because I was Sophie, and Sophie always thought everyone loved her.
I told Peter everything Kim said and he agreed with me that she was totally wrong about us. Peter agreed that he and I were so much more than just fucking, and that we had a love so rare and intense, Kim couldn’t possibly understand it because Peter knew what I knew- Our love was beautiful, real, and absolute.
Eventually, I even confessed to Peter how badly I had been acting. I told him about the drunk partying, and the flirty teasing. I told him about the sad comfort and reassurance I received when men tried to pick me up, but I also told him I did nothing about it.
I admitted I had kissed a few men at the bars and clubs, but that was all. I admitted to just a few kisses to get me through missing him, but he understood.
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