this post is for Buttercup, Bombschell and Funms, just so you know curiosity did kill the cat.
.....As I heard the gate swing shut a sign that the postman had since left the yard, a look of sheer horror darkened my face as the magnitude of what I had just done dawned on me. What had I done? A quick glance at my bedroom companion sent shivers coursing through My veins. My blood ran cold, I didn't know him, he was a stranger, a man I barely knew yet he was sleeping besides me. I thought about calling the police but what could they do? What would I say? Was I raped?No,Forced ? NO, I grimaced as the events of the previous night flashed vividly through my mind. The moans and the screams as I begged him to take me, cries of passionate pleasure that had emanated from these my lustful lips. My heart filled with shame and remorse, guilt whelmed up inside me and threatened to overwhelm me. What had i done, had I been drunk ? No. Yes I had two glasses on wine but surely that was not enough to render m unconscious or uninhibited.I longed for an excuse any excuse, to absolve me o the guilt, the shame that was suffocating my soul and dragging it deeper and deeper into the evil grasp of Hades. Tears coursed down my cheeks as the waves of shame returned, threatening to engulf me. Had my mama taught me nothing? How had I, a girl born and raised by the holy book allowed Lucifer to camp on my doorstep?
Memories of why we met, how we met, where we met flashed through my mind. His mother who passed, his father who had remarried, his sister who was having trouble conceiving or his aunt who was bewitching the whole compound. I wanted to believe that I had known him for a long time, that I knew him, that his whole life was imprinted on the back of my hand like a Fingerprint or that his heart was tattooed on my own, but my conscience refused to let me find solace in this blatant lie. So little time, so much to say, so much he had said and yet he had revealed nothing. Was there even a sister, a brother an aunt or a father? How could one have faith in the words of a man they barely knew?
Filled with apprehension I traced his name on my pillow, frightened that in my haste to share the fruit of his loins I had not quite caught/ remembered his last name. Was it desperation? Yet as I caught my reflection in the wardrobe mirror it refused to confirm what my soul was begging it to give......justification, justification for my weakness, perhaps if blame could be given to my face, then my actions could be understood as those of a woman with limited prospects. He had asked for water to quench his thirst and in my haste, I gave him deeds to the entire well, he had asked for food to fill his stomach, but in my haste I bequeathed him a field to plough, he had asked me for a blanket to shelter from the cold and in my lust I offered him the comforts of my bed. Where had I gone wrong? At which turn had my morality turned into the immoral? I twisted the ring, my engagement ring, why had I just noticed it this very second? I had not even possessed the decency to take it off. I twisted it, but it would not budge, the lump i my throat would not budge.
I glanced at the stranger, the man I had spent the previous night with, How could he sleep so soundly , so comfortable, so at home, as if we knew each other and he belonged no where else but my bed, and yet.......and yet he was a total stranger a man I barely knew. Perhaps if we had spent more time talking getting to know each other..........I felt violated , used , abused but what for? Was it not I with my very own voice filled with passion and lust who had cried out his name in pleasure, and in the same breathe cursed my mother, for with holding, and not revealing the knowledge about the secret pleasures my womanhood could bring much early than she did, for I had not known pleasure so intense or joy of such magnitude......My hand went to my stomach and horror filled my eyes, What if? What if this stranger, this man I was not even sure I wasn't related to had planted his forbidden fruits in my belly? The consequences were too painful to contemplate ........was I being punished for sins I had committed in a previous life, or in this life?
I glanced at the photo., the letter, the evidence, what more proof did i need? The photo so clear, portrait style. The woman standing next to the slated door of the hut with the roof that was just about to cave in. Proudly she held the hand of a boy, her son , their son. Thier resemblance was striking , it was as if a mini stranger stared me straight in the face. So oblivious to her humble surroundings her other hand rested fleetingly on her swollen belly, a belly full of promise, full of life another product of their love on the way. And the letter, oh the letter, painstakingly written in broken English, revealing hr excitement over their forth coming baby, she wondered why he had been silent for far too long, She asked if it was okay to find someone to repair the roof as the rainy season was coming, she wanted to let him know that the money he had last sent was slowly running out and their boy needed new shoes for the school. She related how she was praying, daily fasting so that they're visas for them to come join him could be processed more smoothly, she bound all the demons and spirits that would get in their way.......My eyes whelmed up with tears, I couldn't read on.
I looked at the man lying so peaceful in my bed, should I ask? how do I ask? Did I even have the right to ask? After all what does a stranger owe you, not even the courtesy of a last name. I sobbed quietly yet besides me the stranger slept. Oh the irony of his loud contented snores whilst I beside him died a slow but painful silent death. Hastily I got up from the bed and cramped my belongings into a bag. I just need to get out of there go anywhere. I wanted to leave whilst he slept, for how does one say good bye to a man, yo spent the night with but barely even know? Do you wave goodbye or do you kiss? Do you leave a forwarding address or do you promise to write and keep in touch?
As I reached the door, I took one last look at the man lying in the bed, I tried hard to find a resemblance but i could not, yet I knew i was not mistaken. This was the very same man I had given the last two years of my life. The man I was engaged to marry in less than three months to come. The man who had promised me the world, the one who I called my fiancee and who called me his bride. .............I had gone to bed with the man I loved, the man I was ready to marry, my husband to be but with the arrival of the postman, I realised I woke up this morning next to a stranger, a man leading a double life, a phony, a man I had spent the last 2years of my life yet I barely knew him. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I contemplated what I would say to the 140 guests we had already invited....would I tell them the truth? What was the truth?........That all this while, all these years........I was sharing my bed with a stranger, a man I barely knew.
MY MOTHER'S CHILD
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I went to bed with a stranger.........
Posted by Miss Definitely Maybe at 23:42 33 comments
Labels: deceit, heartbreak, relationships, sex, sexual partners, stranger
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Notches on my Bedpost
Not that I have a chastity belt tied round my waist but surely in this highly sexuliased world we living in the fact that I can still count the number of men who have tasted my kitty Kat on one hand should surely count for something? Was tallying up my notches this afternoon, with Yours Truly shown the exit door.....well not really we all know how that horse bolted, didn't have the courtesy to use the door smashed right through my window leaving broken glass everywhere......well the window in my heart that is, smashed it into pieces and stamped on it as well, but hey whose complaining I'm happy remember!!!! Anyway with Yours Truly gone I'm petrified that a couple of replacements or rather rebound relationships later will propel me firmly into the 'I need two hands to count my notches club' Not that there is anything wrong with having a fair amount of notches on your post. hell in this day and age of sexual liberation why not? But I have always been the conservative type, the type that finishes undressing in bed, the type that would rather make love in the dark, yes the I'm having great sex but I don't want to talk about it type so you can understand why I'm a bit frantic about moving into the two hands notches clubs. So it was a gloomy and worried Definitely Maybe revisiting her options this afternoon torn between becoming celibate and abstaining, not that I have a choice, its not as if the Brad Pitts of this world are breaking down my Kitty Kat door trying to enter. Why is it its the quantity of sexual partners that matters not the quantity or the quality of the encounters? Does someone who has had ten one night stand stand in the same boat as someone who has had ten sexual partners? How many notches are just about right notches is it 5 10 20 or 100? Why is it men were handed a better bargain when it came to bedpost rules because for men the more the notches the higher you rank in esteem but for women start creeping past your second hand into using your toes too and you are labelled by vocabulary which is strictly not for the ears of u18's. Come to think of it I know quite a few women who when it comes to bedpost notches can only count up to five. take my friend Rubber Duck (you get the drift) was on notch number 5 when we last compared notes but one year and 33 one night stands later she still insists she is still on notch number 5. Ridiculous yes but such is societies narrow minded and intolerant view of women's sexuality that we are forced to be creative when tallying up our notches, so if ever another relationship should ever crop up on the horizon it will still be an anxious Definitely Maybe hoping fervently that the fact that she can still count her notches on one hand will count for something.
Posted by Miss Definitely Maybe at 22:15 1 comments
Labels: men, relationships, sexual liberation, sexual partners