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Ah, how to explain this without people freaking out...

I suppose I should write it the way I understand and remember it. My boyfriend, Kenny, was really hesitant about allowing me to come over to his house because it makes him nervous to introduce me to his family or be around them. That's normal as far as I'm concerned. Anyway, his Dad was away for a few days this week so he invited me to stay over. Tuesday afternoon I packed up and took the long train ride over. The entire length of time from Davis to Roseville, I kept thinking that he wouldn't be there. When I got off the train, he wouldn't be there waiting for me. He would get lost of forget or think that I was going to get dropped off at this house, but sure enough he was there. He wasn't exactly waiting there but shortly after arriving, he pulled up. I was so happy.

We drove back to his house and right away he starts up again. This guy.... mother ********. He is the embodiment of the stereotype that all guys think about is sex. All the time he thinks about it. He makes sure that I know it too. His past girlfriend used to put out all the time for him or something like that, or so he says is the reason he's such a ******** horndog. Whatever, I'll cover how I feel about it soon. Anyway, I tell him no and he gets frustrated with me. He says he's bored and I'm the ******** visitor who just got off a basically, three hour trip to come down to visit him, and I hadn't eaten so I had no clue about what to do. He puts on cartoons and tries to start stuff, I reject him so we just watch the cartoons in silence for a bit. I get bored of this and go to the other room on the couch and lay down. He gets super frustrated at that point and goes outside. I don't pay attention because at this point I am trying to entertain myself by either going to sleep or I'm thinking so much that I can't really be troubled with where he is. I do that. I get lost in my thoughts and it is entertaining. I can do nothing and be entertained. He's not like that. I can't plan every moment for him and plan every little bit of his life just so he can be entertained. I certainly won't be his sex slave, even if his old girlfriend was like that. I WILL NOT BE LIKE THAT.

So naturally, I begin to think that all he wants me for is sex. The only reason he is with me is for sex. He doesn't ask me questions about me. He doesn't try romance. He doesn't plan things. He only really opens up if I ask him things or I get him drunk. He doesn't give a ******** about my pleasures. I spiral down the path of negative thoughts like this and sit on the stairs. If I were to run out, I could get away from the thoughts. I could make him realize he was hurting me and I could get some air. I breathed slowly and brought my knees up to my chest. My body was completely frozen.

If I moved, I would cry.

If I moved, I would not be able to hold myself together.

He comes in a long time later, wet from swimming and checks around. I keep quiet and hope quietly that he won't see me. He will pass right by me in the dark, or better yet I will blend in with the stairs so much he won't see me in the light.

He spots me.

I break his heart.

I take his heart and throw it on the ground.

I rip it to pieces and stomp on the remainders.

I tried to speak without trembling. FAIL.
I tried to ask the question that burned me without choking on the words. FAIL.
I tried to hold back the tears that would hurt him so badly. FAIL.

He held me and denied my accusations. The wonderful empathetic man cried because I was hurting so much in front of him. He pulled me up from the stairs and drove me out to get something to eat.

Stupid heart-achy moment is so romantic. Such a painful moment shouldn't be called romantic, but it was. It was.

That was Tuesday.