19/09/2023
I sat on a bench at Whitstable train station. Though the night was not warm there was a slight film of sweat about my person, in all my folds. Strands of hair from my bulbous haircut cling to my forehead. My belt, which fit fine when standing, dug into my sides and my ill fitting jeans bunched on my knees.
"I wish you could've stayed"
About twenty minutes prior bridged by a The Smiths soundtracked walk to the train station I had been watching a film I love, following by playing a game I love, followed by reading a book she loved. All with the woman I loved. I quickly replied a disarming response.
"You have work anyway"
"I felt different tonight"
Previously I had declared my love to this woman on a railway bridge on my birthday sometime near midnight, after the last train. A long disappointing procession of feelings spilt on a beach followed by manic dancing. After that I had to walk a lonely two hours home along a motorway before going to work after three hours of sleep. Now 2 months later she was telling me she felt different. She wished I could've stayed. She was not single at the time of my declaration. Shamelessly I had calculated how to save my friendships from the unraveling of stealing a mutual friend's girlfriend. However eleven days after my birthday she was. Two months, she definitely was. The conversation continues telling me she had butterflies the whole afternoon we had spent together. This woman I had spent laying on my bed upside down just angling myself to view the corner of my monitor to see the online signifier on discord just to kill myself a little every time she went online and didn't message me. This woman had both ruined and liberated me. Never before this point did I want anything so earnestly, so desperately. Now, she was the one who wanted me. I told her I noticed that she felt different. Stretching my memory, I believe I convinced myself I noticed through implanting false memories. After a winding conversation it was decided we would get wine sit meet on a beach and see where that took us. Before we said goodnight she told me not to tell anyone else, at this point I lied little did she know I had triumphantly sent her message to "The Boys" in victory. That night I didn't sleep. I watched High Fidelity.
At this time I was living at my grandmother's house whilst my mother was in the process of evicting an abusing live-in cunt that was her boyfriend at the time. Not knowing what was in store for me in the evening I thought I'd need condoms. Having the lonely teenagehood that I did, at the ripe age of twenty-two, I had to ask my friend "what condoms do I buy?". Without telling my grandparents what I was doing I left and journeyed to Tesco. I arrived and stared at the condom aisle. Strangely one of my managers at the Tesco that I worked at was here also in the capacity of manager. I snapped up a box and covertly bought them. That evening I sat on a bench near her house. I sat and watched two rabbits run in and out of the bushes, two magpies pecked the dirt to my left, joy. She appeared from behind me, beautiful. Immediately she was disappointed i didn't arrive with the wine we had promised to get. I, deeply afraid of something so new, planned us going to the shop to get said wine as an activity to push the time of performance. A singular condom in my jean pocket we awkwardly walked to Sainbury's. She was quiet, she was unsure, she was upset I failed in providing. We didn't get to talk about feelings until we were at the seafront. After an hour of red wine lips and circling conversations of her old relationship I frustratingly had to sit through. I was so close. Months to this point. SHE ASKED FOR THIS JUST DO SOMETHING. She had begun crying. I decided this was the point I should kiss her. Not my first kiss, that was at the age of fifteen when my sister was having her eighteenth birthday at our house and I annoyingly hung around enjoying the feeling of being accepted by older people. I stumbled into a game of spin the bottle in which the bottle landed on me when some profoundly ugly girl was spinning. In my backgarden the same backgarden that I had had my fourth birthday in eleven years earlier some woman stole my first kiss which I eagerly gave up. Passionless, she asked me "oh my god was that your first kiss." Proud of myself having reached a milestone, at that point I wasn't sure I ever would, I answered in the affirmative. Now my second kiss seven years after my first was happening. Awkwardly I tried to prop myself up on the stoney beach and she pulled away and said "no, no, no you've clearly not done this a lot." She taught me how to kiss. From this moment I felt as though I had found the purpose of life. All moments of strife and sadness was all for this. We ran and jumped over the groynes down the seafront. Held hands and kissed. Eventually we came to a beach house. In the dark she instructed me to take her bra off. Fumbling my hands under her leopard print blouse I, with some skill, unhooked her bra without ever taking my eyes off hers. Now shirtless she attempted to give me a blowjob. Shamefully, I couldn't get erect. Nerves, cold and wine had all combined into an extremely disappointing sucking of my frustratingly limp penis. Trying something else I shifted her round off me and dove my hands down her back under her skirt and tights and back round and awkwardly plunged my fingers into her. Which I initially, expectedly, failed at again she taught me the right thing to do until eventually she told me to stop. Later she told me to strangle her. I certainly didn't want to hurt her but I wanted to do what she wanted and I obliged. Sometime after kissing she pulled back looked in my eyes and asked "why do you look so sad?"