face. For a few seconds I stood there staring at the door hoping the entire scene hadn't actually occurred. But it had and I needed to get out of there.
I got back in the car and sat there crying not knowing how I'd make it the fifteen minute drive without cracking up the car. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were blinded by tears, and a numbness took over. Somehow, and to be honest I don't know how, I made it back to my apartment. I sat on the couch, unable to move, unable to think. I only felt. Pain. An overwhelming and indescribable pain. Like a piece of me had been cut off. A piece of the real me.
I didn't want it to be true. We hadn't been together long, but I needed him. He was all I looked forward to. The ‘dates’ with my Dom was what made the rest of my sorry existence endurable. Without enough energy to leave the couch, I sat there, an empty shell staring into space, unable to do anything. My eyes would blink and tears would fall until they couldn't fall anymore. At some point I glanced at the clock and realized I hadn't moved in five hours. Mechanically, I wandered to my bed and collapsed on top of it not bothering to undress or even attempt to slide under the covers.
He'll call, I told myself. He's bound to realize she's too young for him. She must have played him and she'll play him again. He'll think about how good I am for him, how much I want to please him. Don't be stupid. She's a young girl so he won't be able to see her clearly. Been there, experienced that, remember? You can't compete, you fool.
And so on the brain battled, until two days later he still hadn't called, and I had to acknowledge that he probably wasn't going to. I wouldn't call him. There was no point. The one thing you could never do was make someone want or love you. I'd learned that the hard way. They either did or they didn't, and it looked like once again I was shit out of luck.
The thought of the week ahead with nothing to look forward to was almost too much to bear. Only one thing would help. I would go back to the computer and find another one. Another Dom. It'd take some time, but my profile was still there lying dormant. All I had to do was update it. If I gave the site fifteen to twenty minutes a day, it would give me a distraction and make me at least feel proactive. I'd be smart the next time and not allow myself to fall in love.
Who knew if I really loved him in the first place? Maybe I'd just believed it since he was the first person I'd slept with since my divorce. But deep down I knew better. I cared more about losing him than I had my ex-husband. I wondered if he was with her now. I hated myself for being so petty, but I hoped the bitch ripped his heart out and disposed of it as carelessly as he'd tossed out mine.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Six
The next three weeks my grade point average dipped significantly. I spent more time than I should have on the computer, and maneuvered through a minefield of Doms. Dodging one potential disaster after another, I continued to narrow down my choices. Only one showed any real promise. I sent him my cell phone number and after a few phone conversations we set up a date for dinner. Oddly, this man was named Michael, too. The difference was he wasn't just looking for a sexual relationship. He wanted real dates to go along with them. Dinner. Movies. The real world followed by the alternate one. I figured this was a good thing since it was exactly what I had wanted and what had been missing with the last Michael.
I met the new man at Spumoni's and we enjoyed a lovely meal. For all intents and purposes it was a normal first date. Over Chicken Escarole soup we talked about our lives, how busy they were, and what we were looking for in a relationship. What made it different was our conversation by the end of the date. By the chocolate mousse cake we talked about what we wanted sexually. Part of me wanted to cry right there at the table. What the hell was I doing? Did I need sex
I got back in the car and sat there crying not knowing how I'd make it the fifteen minute drive without cracking up the car. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were blinded by tears, and a numbness took over. Somehow, and to be honest I don't know how, I made it back to my apartment. I sat on the couch, unable to move, unable to think. I only felt. Pain. An overwhelming and indescribable pain. Like a piece of me had been cut off. A piece of the real me.
I didn't want it to be true. We hadn't been together long, but I needed him. He was all I looked forward to. The ‘dates’ with my Dom was what made the rest of my sorry existence endurable. Without enough energy to leave the couch, I sat there, an empty shell staring into space, unable to do anything. My eyes would blink and tears would fall until they couldn't fall anymore. At some point I glanced at the clock and realized I hadn't moved in five hours. Mechanically, I wandered to my bed and collapsed on top of it not bothering to undress or even attempt to slide under the covers.
He'll call, I told myself. He's bound to realize she's too young for him. She must have played him and she'll play him again. He'll think about how good I am for him, how much I want to please him. Don't be stupid. She's a young girl so he won't be able to see her clearly. Been there, experienced that, remember? You can't compete, you fool.
And so on the brain battled, until two days later he still hadn't called, and I had to acknowledge that he probably wasn't going to. I wouldn't call him. There was no point. The one thing you could never do was make someone want or love you. I'd learned that the hard way. They either did or they didn't, and it looked like once again I was shit out of luck.
The thought of the week ahead with nothing to look forward to was almost too much to bear. Only one thing would help. I would go back to the computer and find another one. Another Dom. It'd take some time, but my profile was still there lying dormant. All I had to do was update it. If I gave the site fifteen to twenty minutes a day, it would give me a distraction and make me at least feel proactive. I'd be smart the next time and not allow myself to fall in love.
Who knew if I really loved him in the first place? Maybe I'd just believed it since he was the first person I'd slept with since my divorce. But deep down I knew better. I cared more about losing him than I had my ex-husband. I wondered if he was with her now. I hated myself for being so petty, but I hoped the bitch ripped his heart out and disposed of it as carelessly as he'd tossed out mine.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Six
The next three weeks my grade point average dipped significantly. I spent more time than I should have on the computer, and maneuvered through a minefield of Doms. Dodging one potential disaster after another, I continued to narrow down my choices. Only one showed any real promise. I sent him my cell phone number and after a few phone conversations we set up a date for dinner. Oddly, this man was named Michael, too. The difference was he wasn't just looking for a sexual relationship. He wanted real dates to go along with them. Dinner. Movies. The real world followed by the alternate one. I figured this was a good thing since it was exactly what I had wanted and what had been missing with the last Michael.
I met the new man at Spumoni's and we enjoyed a lovely meal. For all intents and purposes it was a normal first date. Over Chicken Escarole soup we talked about our lives, how busy they were, and what we were looking for in a relationship. What made it different was our conversation by the end of the date. By the chocolate mousse cake we talked about what we wanted sexually. Part of me wanted to cry right there at the table. What the hell was I doing? Did I need sex
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