I'm my own fuck boy

Look at it,

He said.

Look what you did to me,

As he showed me his rock hard dick.

Good girl, he notioned.

A job well done.

I secretly cried as his hands moved my head to see his dick. 

I cried because I did not want to see his dick.

I cried as I watched my body shut down.

It didn’t fight back.

It wasn’t turned on.

It just… froze.

No no no no no no don’t cry! He rushed in.

Pulling me towards him to console. 

Telling me it’s okay, he would neverrrr pressure me.

As he continued to do so.

I’d like to go to Mexico with you when you go,

He fantasized.

I alwaaaays stick around and work through things,

He promised.

(Hours before he fled as quickly as he could.)

The next date, we got closer to sex,

But I paused and I paused and I paused.

I know I should have said no and moved on.

But I didn’t.

I just paused.

And touched him softly, letting him know I was still there.

What’s wrong with you? You keep stopping abruptly.

Were his words to me.

As if not wanting to have sex with him means that something must be wrong with me.

And I whimpered inside as I witnessed my body freeze. Smile gently.

It didn’t say anything.

It was NOT turned on.

It just…froze.

I liked him.

But I did not like this.

So why couldn’t I say it?

Why couldn’t I just be a no, and move on?

My mind tells me stories about how I like him and want him to like me and I just can’t bare the thought of him not liking me.

Or even stronger, the fear of him leaving me because I didn’t do what he wanted.

Yes.

That one’s present for me.

But no.

None of that is it.

His behavior enticed me.

He treated me like he and I,

Were already a we.

He fantasized about the magic of our connection, and the way it would save us from our previous pain.

He “didn’t want to scare me” as he told me he wanted to be in Mexico with me after only 20 hours of knowing me.

The tell-tale signs of a fuck boy were everywhere I looked.

It enticed me.

A part of me wants to never admit this.

How could I be so naive and gullible.

How could I be fooled by these very obvious lies.

But

It enticed me.

Despite the flags and the gut signals.

Because

Guess what

I was fantasizing too.

I was also making us, a ‘we’.

And when he fled, after I set some boundaries, I saw it.

I’m the fuck boy.

I’m the one who fantasizes so I don’t have to be responsible for the full reality.

But it’s not even about him, or men in general.

It’s what I do to myself.

To my body.

When my body is feeling really good,

I say to it, 

“Look! You’re doing such a good job for me.”

When my body needs rest I didn’t expect, or gets hurt or sick, I say to it,

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you being like this?”

When my body does not do what I want it to do,

I sweet talk it.

I tell it, “I’m here for you, I’m listening,”

While I harbor frustration, waiting for it to go back to how I want it to be.

When I feel magically connected to my body I fantasize about where we’ll be someday. 

I dream up, “yes. This is what I’ve been looking for. I’ve finally found it.”

See

Why is it really, that I let fuck boy get to me?

Well, 

Because I fuck boy myself.

I’ve worked with my body enough to know all the right things to say, to trick her into the fantasy.

To pressure her into what I want her to do.

To encourage her to throw consent out the window.

“Oh no, don’t be sad baby. Don’t worry I’m here.” 

Just enough, so she is reassured, and can do what I want her to do, once again.

Yes.

I feign listening,

When really I’m waiting for her to fall in line.

And then,

I go out into the world.

And I feel magnetic connection.

With none other,

Than the man who feigns listening,

In expectation that I will fall in line.

And the thing is,

I will fall in line.

Until I stop charming myself out of my truth.

Until I stop fantasizing my way out of reality.

Until I stop pressuring my body to be where it’s not, for the sake of getting something that body never even wanted in the first place.

No, sir.

I did not want to see your dick, believe it or not.

My body wanted something much deeper.

Something much richer and sweeter and juicier.

But you and I,

WE

Deprived us both of that.

We yelled at her before she could even get there.

And to my inner fuck boy?

I see you.