To Pick Up the Pieces of My Reflection... Or Not

Thinking about what it means to face the broken pieces, image matching, relational healing

After we finished f**king for the first time that night I was waiting for her to tell me I need to leave. Instead she asked if I wanted to stay. I thought she would tell me to leave because earlier she said that she hated the guys she had quick sex and ONS with. Even though I knew she liked me, I wasn’t sure if her feelings would change due to my mediocre first round or for reasons unbeknownst to me. I chose to stay.

As we lay, she confessed to me that she was afraid that she was going to end up alone. I told her I had a similar fear. The tone of my voice got lower as I rambled, and she teased me - “Oh, so you’re one of those?? You nut and then go to sleep?” I smiled and said, “No, I might have more in me…” This time I reached for a condom, since we went without on the first round.

The feeling was all too familiar. My broken pieces and her broken pieces, somehow matched to form some type of disfigured container for our Selves, and we held on to each other tightly as we f**ked the night away. Not thinking about the consequences of our actions that night, nor the ways in which we might alter/destroy each other’s future paths/Selves. Not thinking of the ways that maybe, just maybe we’d leave each other better than we found each other if the stars just happened to align. Unfortunately in my case it has usually been the former rather than the latter.

We soaked the sheets that night with sweat, squirt(pee?), and cum. We fused together for a moment as our fears, insecurities, hopes, and dreams all became one.

The next morning as I was leaving was the first time I saw her face undressed, without makeup. I didn’t realize there was such a difference. My vision was blurry since I popped my contact lenses out the night before, but what before seemed to be a fresh face full of youth, turned into what seemed to be a dying leaf changing seasons. Post-nut clarity, maybe? I doubt it. The excessive retinol and makeup use, the stress of a demanding job, and a demanding life, have almost sucked the life out of her face. I had wondered why she was so against having her picture taken when most girls/women can’t stop taking selfies. Now I think I understand why.

Part of why I have spent so much time alone is because it seems I keep running into women who are “broken”, perhaps in a similar way that I am “broken.” Often times worse, once I get to know them. It seems that I cannot escape until the lesson is learned or the wounds are healed. This is proof to me that the “image match” goes far beyond the physical. It seems even though I’m doing everything “right” to improve physically, inwardly something is still off. I think I am improving my psychology as well as the physical. At least I’m trying to, but the scars run deep. And then I wonder… do I stay to tend to the wounds of another in order to heal my scars or do I continue trodding down this path called life alone?

Photo by Vaziwr on Unsplash