Yup. I’m confessing here.
This came about because of a conversation with Cassandra a few days ago. It wasn’t going all that well. The conversation I mean.
The key phrase that did it for me was “So am I just your fuck toy? Is that it?”
I assured her she most certainly was NOT. I love her and respect her too much for that thought to even enter my mind. Hence one major reason why I was so taken aback when she spat out those words.
But I have been guilty of that in the past. Not with Cassandra, but repeatedly with other women. Many other women. In fact so many, right now I can’t even remember all of them. I’m thinking this needs to be a sort of series or something.
Let me back up a bit.
In my younger years, I was something of a bad boy. I was learning how to use the tools I had been given, and I was using them primarily for what (small c) catholics would term “sinful lusts of the flesh”. I had women. I used women.
In my early to late twenties, I learned how a not unpleasant appearance, appropriately placed compliments, and disarming charm and boyishness, could be wielded as a powerful sexual weapon. It worked unfailingly. And I used it.
And when I had had my fill, or they displeased me, or I was ready with a new woman, I would drop them. Throw them away like a used tissue. With little thought. Sure I felt some guilt. But not a lot. And not for long. I have this hard side to me. I can be as cold as ice when required. A stone would have more warmth and feeling. I have some insight into how and why this developed, but I’m sorry, I’m not prepared to share that right now. Just know it developed at a tender age.
Much of that has, of course, changed. Thankfully. But as Cassandra inadvertently brought some of those memories back, I think I am going to have to address some of those awkward memories. And perhaps share them here.