My body’s a temple. So why do I allow people to treat it as a waste can?

2007 - Day 311 - Elizabeths

Image by Jonathan_W via Flickr

Well I did it again last night.  I was doing fine and then I got a phone call at around 9:30 from “Him”, Mr. Gregory Jefferson himself.  We met at a club a couple of years ago while I was married.  I hadn’t had any intimacy in several years, was on my way out the door of our 20 plus year marriage and Mr. Jefferson fit the bill (in more ways than one).  We went to dinner, movies, clubs; he was my companion and picked up the duties my husband had so dictatorially decided to forfeit.

Anyway, I think the idea of being the “other man” got to him and he soon ended our 3 or 4 month affair.  Not much time would pass before we would meet up again, in a club; sometimes conversing, but never leaving together.  This all changed however, once he learned of my separation, I guess all bets were off, well for the time being anyway.  He started calling again, and I would pick up and meet him at his place for a drink and we would make love (ok… we hooked up, had sex… booty call… whatever!).

As history would start to reveal, the “booty call” would be a constant in our “relationship.”  I thought it was because I smoked, so I quit.  And, sure enough… here he came, back around again.  More phone calls, then we hooked up and they all ended.  Then, once on my own, in my own place, I somehow thought it would be better, not that this was the reason for me getting my place (don’t get me wrong… this was NOT the reason at ALL).  But I did start to see him around more and more, and then it stopped. He came by, put up my stained-glass hanging picture in my window, we had one last “romp” and he left for work the next morning leaving only his watch and his bracelet behind as a reminder.

I texted him that a.m. asking his preference and where I should send his articles, to which he replied to keep them until his next visit.  Well I’m thinking “this is great, I will be seeing him again soon… this is a good thing…”  “maybe we aren’t in a ‘relationship’ but at least we are FWB (friends with benefits).” Key word here was [friends].   So this is good, I guess I will see him again.  That was six (6) weeks ago!

After unreturned phone calls (3) and ignored texts (4), I received a call from him on the 24th of October that he was “passing through” on his way to the south bay and just seeing if I was home so he could come by to pick up his things.  I wasn’t home, was celebrating my sister’s birthday, and so missed that one.  And not a word until…

Last night I got a call at about 9:30 telling me that he was going to be leaving early the next day and thought he’d stop by (blah, blah, blah), then we got to talking and, truth?   I was actually enjoying the phone call, it was good talking to him, hearing his voice.  He continued on and was saying he was just sitting there drinking (blah, blah, blah). Basically asking me to come over (or hinting for me to do so).  So, I stupidly got up, put on a bit of makeup, got my overnight bag together; all the while thinking this could be fun and  that perhaps this would be different.  After we were all done (well, after he was all done), he rolled over, turned out the light, and soon was snoring, with him over on his side and me on mine.  (God this was just like my marriage, I didn’t need this shit)  What was I thinking?  And why do I do this to myself?  So, I got up in the dark, got dressed, quietly got my things and left.

He called 20 minutes later and left a voice mail wondering what was going on… uh… no, I’m not calling back because the only thing missing from last night was the money on the bed stand (Man! I got gipped).

Anyway, in my search of the many things to find out; I really need to find out why it is so important that I throw everything away for those few moments of intimacy with a person that would much rather use my body as a waste barrel for their bodily fluid.  Because if I really think about it,  it’s not intimacy, it’s merely garbage collection.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s