I couldn't tell her that I slept with him because I wanted to be closer to her. I wanted to break a barrier between what I thought I was, and what I could be. It was her and her openness and her willingness to share with me that had changed me. It changed the way I thought, the way I saw the world, and the way I saw myself. I felt empowered when I talked to her, and I wanted to see the world the way she did.
It was my biggest mistake, thinking that she was such a free spirit nothing could bound her, nothing could hurt her, and that I couldn't possibly lose what I cherished of her. And this desire to become someone I wasn't, to become someone else I thought I could love because then I could be with her, was a poison.
I couldn't tell her though. She never asked why either. A feeling like that would be cheapened when I had to try to explain myself against her accusations, against her quiet understanding, mixed in with rage and hurt feelings of betrayal. I couldn't cheapen her feelings by explaining myself in a way that I couldn't, and in a way, wouldn't, understand. I haven't reached it yet. Not to that point when I could openly admit to myself that I was willing to try to be someone I wasn't. That I was curious about a world that was taboo to everything that I believed and knew.
It's a complicated feeling. Trying to find a balance between who you are and who you think you could be. But what if who you think you could be isn't really the person you're meant to be? How do you rationalize? How do you accept yourself afterwards? It takes a certain kind of person to break through those barriers to admit to themselves that it was just a part of the road to self-discovery. Others, who were stupid and brave enough to try something so taxing on self-understanding, end up living in self-destruction in pathetic attempt to forget regrets, to convince themselves that nothing ever happened.
She said not to regret anything. Not to become one of those people who self-destructed, who stopped exploring their sexuality, who saw sexuality as a curse rather than a gift. She was a free spirit, and she would hate herself, knowing that she's bound anyone's wings.
She forgave me (though not without proper consequences) only due to my naivety, on my absolute stupidity and blindness. After all, he was charming in a way that men never were: he gave a sense of respect and sincerity and security, where your insecurities fly out the window, despite not having any emotional attachments to him. He was the almost-perfect lover: detached, respectful, passionate, and giving. There was never a moment I felt used for my body. I felt empowered, a woman, and it was a freeing experience, to know that there was a possibility that sex didn't feel dirty afterwards. And I was one step closer to her. To someone I loved in a way I couldn't understand, loved and respected enough to venture deeper into an enigmatic world I'd been fighting.
I loved to tease her--it was something I didn't realize I enjoyed doing until I met her. A small tease built into something that hurt, that broke such preciously delicate trust. But it's too late now, to know that my family was right. Jokes and teasing never end well because feelings are hurt when the line is crossed. You can never uncross it.
She said she saw something beautiful in the situation. Free spirits always do. They see everything as an opportunity, of Fates realigning to bring something different. Good or bad didn't matter. It was something to experience, to learn from, to take in and become a part of. Victims can say that and they're benevolent souls of forgiveness and kindness. But when the perpetrator says it, regardless of how guilty they feel, they are unfeeling monsters. I feel like one. An unfeeling monster that chose hoes before bros, without even meaning to, without affection for the hoe. But doesn't that just make everything worse?
He was the step closer to her. And in all of my selfish self-discovery, thinking I could be closer, that I could possibly accept sexuality the way it was meant to be taken--without dirtiness; evil, sinful implications; or discrimination--I lost sight of the beauty of the things I cherished. I lost it all, thinking I could gain something else.
I wish I could say that I still felt like a woman, empowered, sexual, and proud. Instead, she's retracted back into her shell because upon discovering her, getting to know her, I hurt and distanced the very person that I wanted to be closer to.
It wasn't worth it.
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