So, if you’ve read my last post you will know that I currently feel like I’m being carried by Thor himself, although I fear he may break his back because I’ve consumed about 10 sacks of potatoes in the month preceding this meeting.
The shower is on – oh my, are we going under it? That would be hot.
Before I know it, he has put me down and pushed me slowly underneath the raging hot, fast, powerful jets of the shower head. My hair gets soaked and my only thought is that I am going to look an absolute mess because of my make up! Jeez, I hope he’s prepared to meet the swamp monster because that is precisely what I am about to look like.
The shower is huge – big enough for 2 or 3 people and is like a beige colour on the tiles. There is a little ledge on the back wall and as he pushes me in, my shins get grazed. Ouch! The water hits my body and it feels glorious. Boiling hot water on my already red-hot skin but it feels like a relief. It feels good.
I can feel his hands on my arse cheeks. He has a hold of me with a hand each side – slowly raising his hands up over my hips, my waist to move round to my breasts. He squeezes my nipples hard and I cry out. The water is making this feel more intense than it would if we were just standing in a non-shower room. His right hand moves to the shower controls and he twists the controls so that the water flow becomes faster. It’s like he knows alllll the moves to make to intensify my experience.
I take a second to appreciate that I’m very glad my back is facing him because fuck knows what my face looks like.
His right hand moves back to my breasts, still squeezing my nipples but they move to cup my breasts and he caresses them. He spends so much time on them, cupping them, rubbing them, squeezing them. It feels good.
He stops. His left hand is against the wall now, palm flat. His right hand moves to my back, he traces my spine all the way down to my arse. His fingers trace from top to bottom and suddenly his hand is between my legs, pushing, forcing my legs apart. I have to lean against the wall now, both my hands steadying myself. My head is out of the shower stream and the water is cascading down my back, over my hips, my bum and falling to the floor where my I worry if my legs and feet will be strong enough to hold me upright.
His fingers move to the front of my body and BOOM with one push, his middle finger is deep inside me. Because he is behind me, the movement of his finger is out of this world. It feels as though he is beckoning someone to come forward. He is the Pied Piper of Orgasm. I can feel it building slowly inside me. BOOM! Another finger. I think he knew because I can sure as hell feel my legs wobbling so he must be picking up on that too.
With his magical fingers and the water hitting my body, him breathing in my ear, it is an absolute success of a recipe……. or so I thought!
He stops, withdraws his fingers and spins me round.
PLEASE DO NOT LOOK LIKE A PANDA. PLEASE DO NOT LOOK LIKE A PANDA.
He pushes me backwards against the wall and lifts my right leg onto the ledge. He bends his knees and pushes up into me and it makes me gasp. He fucks me right there under the water (thank god I’m not paying this bill – we’ve not been very economical!) and my back is slamming against the wall. It’s slightly painful but with the thrusts and the feeling going on downstairs, I care very little if I end up looking like I’ve been hit with a cane.
God damn it I love how he kisses me with so much passion. Fucking me in the shower, I look like a drowned rat in my head but this is so fucking hot!
Both of us are panting hard now, his face looks slightly strained, is he close? This is the first time we’ve fucked so I’m not sure. His mouth cracks into a smile – those perfect teeth…. if I wasn’t already soaking wet, I’d have won the award for wettest knickers of 2016.
He stops. Moves my leg down from the ledge. I’m glad of this because jesus I think I was about to get cramp. He switches the shower off.
Oh what now? The wardrobe, the sink, the dry cleaning room?!
Don’t be silly – it was the bed! Although not for any more sex right now.
He leads me out of the bathroom and we both lay on the bed, soaking wet. Luckily the room is warm so it’s not too bad.
Then I see a side of him that was the reason I fell so hard in the first place. We just start talking. He tells me more about his family, more about past relationships and its like the ‘nose’ moment all over again. It seems (although looking back I hate that I felt this was so special) that he is opening up to me majorly. We talk about sad and bad times with family, about upbringings, about hurt and loss. It was honestly one of the deepest nights I have ever experienced with a boy. It is personal. It is sensual. It is REAL. I cannot out into words how right everything felt. It was as though he was reading my mind at every point and telling me what I thought he should be saying next.
That night, after we finished talking, we had sex another 9 times. I could write it here but it would legitimately take forever.
The last of the 9 times, he fucked me so hard we fell off the end of the bed, covers coming with us and ending up in a sweaty disgusting mess on the carpet. I tried to get up as I had plans but my legs literally wouldn’t carry me. He had to lift me off of the floor. I was a broken woman. My hair and make up – remember when Claudia Winkleman had that faux par with the eyeliner and the bird’s nest hair. I made her look like Kate Middleton. HOW THE HELL HAD HE FUCKED ME SO MUCH WHEN I LOOKED LIKE A HOMELESS GOBLIN?!
He helped me onto the bed and he got in the shower. I checked my phone. My best friend had messaged me to see if I was still alive. Yes, Yes I was but my vagina was broken. LITERAL BROKE.
I had a shower and washed my hair and he dropped me home. It was so hard saying goodbye to him. I know that’s weird but felt like I had waited so long for this moment and it was over within what felt like a single hour.
I went home and slept for most of the day. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
Things went back to normal – in fact they had INTENSIFIED BECAUSE APPARENTLY HE LOVED ME and we arranged to go to Brighton the following Saturday. Everything was normal until the following Friday.
No good morning message. No messages when I knew he would normally have a break at work. Nothing, nada. Until that evening. I had messaged him asking if all was ok and if he still wanted to go to Brighton.
I got a whole heap of messages – something about work and how someone had walked out and things were piling on top of him because it was a family business and he had responsibilities etc. He had to work tomorrow. But could see me afterwards – LIKE HELL HE DID! A TOTAL LIE.
I WAS PISSED. Why the fuck didn’t he just message me and tell me without me having to chase him?
Anyway, I told myself he could be telling me the truth. Not to jump to conclusions and that I was sensible enough to know that business sometimes does come first. I knew this from my own job and things I had been asked to do.
So, I let it go and told him I understood.
THAT BASTARD LITERALLY DIDN’T MESSAGE ME ALL WEEKEND.
I, being female, and worrying that now he had what he wanted, I obviously wasn’t going to hear from him again.
I spent all weekend in a slump. I was devastated. WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO?!
VERY IMPORTANT TO NOTE THAT IT 100% WAS NOT ME – IT WAS THIS WEAK, COWARDLY, SPINELESS CUNT’ S FAULT. More on that later though.
Sunday evening came – and so did a flurry of messages. Work had gotten too much, he needed to let off steam, he had gotten totally blotted Saturday night and his phone had died blah blah.
Now, although its only 2 years ago, in 2016, I was nowhere near as savvy with men as I am now. I had been in relationships since 2008 pretty much and not experienced much of the dating scene and what now was apparently deemed acceptable behaviour from men.
He was sorry, I was so pleased. All seemed to be ok in the world again. Things went back to normal. WHAT IT SHOULD SAY HERE IS THAT I KICKED HIS SORRY ARSE TO THE KERB, HOWEVER I DIDN’T. UNFORTUNATELY. Little did I know at that time, I should have cut contact there and then after his behaviour.
I was going on holiday the following weekend with my girls. He had agreed to pick me up from the airport. We joked about the welcome sign that he would be holding up when I walked through the gate.
HE HAD EVEN WRITTEN A LETTER AND SENT IT TO MY BEST FRIEND FOR ME TO READ WHEN I WAS AWAY!
As far as I was aware, things were back to normal and after my week away, I would be landing back and walking out of the gate to see him standing there.
That week at work, I found out I had passed my first year of my CIPD qualification. i got my feedback from my lecturer which was absolutely brilliant and naturally I wanted to share it with him. He was proud of me – I was proud of myself. I was going on holiday in a few days and things were feeling good!
My last day at work went quickly. I was quiet as I was tying up some bits, but so was he. Like, super quiet? How he was the other week when he had that terrible day at work.
I messaged him, I have no idea where it came from. I think I had told myself that I had nothing to worry about because we’d had a rocky patch and gotten through it and the way he spoke to me, there was NO WAY IN THIS WORLD that he would hurt me or let me down so I got a bit sassy and said something like not being very happy he wasn’t messaging and that if he had another girl on the go then I’d need to know about it because I was going on holiday and planning on obviously acting like I was seeing someone.
All I got back was ‘I need some time to think about things’ AND THAT WAS IT.
I NEVER HEARD FROM THAT COWARD EVER AGAIN.
I went on holiday and I think I am the only person to ever go to Magaluf and cry the whole time, and come back about a stone lighter than when I arrived rather than a stone heavier. Not quite sure how though seeing as Lays were entering my mouth quicker than money leaves my account in the beauty department of John Lewis.
During the day I sun bathed with my glasses on so that nobody could see my tears. I checked my phone 19475 times a day. Whenever any of my friends messaged me, I was angry – WHY IS IT YOU AND NOT HIM?!
I went out in the evening, but my phone was my main focus. And that makes me so sad because I stripped the enjoyment of my holiday, which I had worked hard for, away. I probably ruined my best friend’s holiday too because I was so fucking upset and wasn’t my normal self at all.
I didn’t really make an effort with how I looked either, I just let all of the enjoyment of a girls holiday get sucked away – all because of a boy. And I will regret that forever.
On the plane home, I was distraught but it was a night flight so the plane was dark. I stuck my headphones in and played what had become ‘our song’ on loop for 2.5 hours. My best friend held my hand and gave it a little stroke when she realised and looked at me to check if I was ok. That girl has been a huge part of me finding my true self and I will be forever grateful that she entered my life.
I sent him messages, tried calling. NOTHING.
No answer to anything. Left me on blue ticks the whole time. So I knew he hadn’t blocked me but I WISH HE HAD.
He sent me literally crazy. Nobody could say anything that made it any better. My holiday was ruined – however this was through my own doing because I just couldn’t pull myself out of that slump. It was awful. I felt like he had died and I never got a chance to say goodbye.
I was so forlorn it was INSANE. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I re-read our message thread from the start 100 times. How could this have happened? What did I do wrong? Was I bad in bed? Did I not come from a rich enough family? (His family owns a Porsche dealership, hence Mr 911). Everything I was thinking – it all led back to one thing. ME.
Why was I blaming myself for it happening? Why was I questioning whether I was good enough? Obviously now looking back I know it absolutely was him and nothing I could have done would have changed his behaviour but at the time, I spent SO long questioning what was wrong with ME. Isn’t it funny how we do that? How we always assume it is us that is the problem and that people who act shitty – it’s never them. We always doubt ourselves.
I spent weeks mourning him and everything that I had thought we might have.
I know if you are reading this you may have seen this coming miles off – nobody can be that perfect right?
I was entirely sucked in. He took over me and I allowed it to happen.
Over the coming weeks nobody could cheer me up. Nobody could get me out of this horrible feeling of loss.
My best friend read the whole message chain and she also couldn’t believe that this had happened. After the words he spoke and sent, how IN THE BLUE FUCK COULD THIS BE WHAT HAPPENED?! She was shocked too. She made me feel like I wasn’t going mad. That I wasn’t stupid to have been swept up with everything because she said any girl would have done the same in my position.
WHY DO PEOPLE DO THIS? GHOSTED. WITHOUT ANOTHER SINGLE FUCKING WORD. NOT EVEN ANY ANGER AT MY ANGER? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS HALF HUMAN HALF CUNT MONSTER?
He had well and truly gazumped me. Made me believe he was honest and genuine and that I knew all these things about him that he just didn’t tell girls. And he didn’t have one night stands – he had one his whole life. That made me think even more that I had done something wrong.
I wish I could put into words the damage that this encounter did me. But I can’t. There simply isn’t enough space or airtime to explain the emotional and psychological damage that this left me with.
Hate, fear, disappointment, low self esteem, worry, no confidence. So much damage.
And I just knew that he was walking round living his life as though nothing had happened. Had I really meant nothing to him?
I am ashamed of what an effect this had on me. It literally made me crazy and I sent messages that looking back now must have made me look like an absolute fucking idiot. I laid my heart on the line, opened up, let him in, and he had just dropped me with no explanation.
Men will read this and say that he needed space. Well, I needed answers, and unfortunately at that point in time, I felt I was owed them. I have since learnt that nobody owes you anything in life.
However, it was an experience. At the time, I couldn’t see any kind of positive from it at all. I only see now that being out of the situation was the one thing that would help me learn from it and understand it.
I guess the point of this post is, don’t stop yourself from having experiences. Some will be good and some will be bad. But they will all shape you in some way or another. You will learn from everything you go through in life. You may not always come out stronger but you will learn and that will shape the person you become.
Never be scared to take a chance on something because sometimes it does work out. Live your life how you want to live and it and never allow others to dictate what choices are right for you because only you know.
After all, you know yourself better than anyone.
Mr 911 broke my heart, quite literally. I was a broken woman for a few months.
But I am not broken anymore.
I am a strong, sassy, confident woman and I am heading into 2019 knowing that I will NEVER allow anyone to treat me like this ever again.
This post has been so honest. I’ve shared snippets of messages that I tried so hard to bury. Messages which make me look like a fool. But I have learnt from it all. I hope some can see that I genuinely thought he was real and that he spoke the truth.
Turns out he didn’t and he is a bigger cunt than Janice from Number 34 with 674 kids.
Always try to realise your own self-worth, even if the way seems dark – there is always a light, it might just take you a little while to find yours.
All my love for a wonderful 2019.