Broken Hearts Damaged Goods (15 page)

By

Jack Webber

S
he tells her stories
from her heart.  And while she is focused on the narrative, her true meaning
remains unspoken, but it is always present.

Tonight her story was
about Judson Roberts.  Her narrative was about how he had her get tested for
STDs because he didn’t want to use condoms.  What remained unspoken was that
Judson found it easier to control women by making them feel disease ridden. 
With their self-worth gone, obeying him and his every demand came easier.  Who
else would love them, except him?

But there was more that
remained unsaid.  She got herself tested the other day for my sake.  She
believed that I wasn’t sleeping with her because of her past.  As hard as I
try, I can’t get her to understand that there is nothing wrong with her as a
lover.

If anything, I have
discovered that she is the Jesus for the sins of my dating world.  She feels
hopelessly compelled to take on everybody else’s sins as if they were her own. 
And for her pain, she has been rejected, ridiculed, and reviled.

As I hold her in my
arms, I see a beautiful, young woman sacrificing herself on a cross, taking on
my sins and pain, and only asking me to love her in return.  I want to love
her.  It’s just that I have been in love before.  A part of me is still in love
with somebody else.

The sad part is that I
could truthfully tell her that I love her.  I just can’t get her to understand
that I am not worth loving and that she doesn’t need to suffer for my sins.

The longer I go without
telling her how I feel about her, the more she drifts away from me.  I will
wake up one morning, and she will no longer be on the cross bearing my pain. 
And I will be alone looking for a savior that has gone.

Oct. 25, 2010

When I entered the
bedroom tonight, Jack was waiting for me on the bed.  He was dressed in only a
pair of black boxer-briefs.  He had set up several of small scented candles
around the room.  He didn’t say anything.  He just looked adoringly at me and
motioned for me to take my usual place on the bed.

I sat down next to him,
and we kissed for a minute.  As we were kissing, he slowly undid my robe and
slid it off of my shoulders.  As he continued to kiss me, he gently lifted my
tank top over my head.  Since he kind of messed up my hair as he did it, he
took his hand and straightened it up for me.  It was really sweet.

At that point, I didn’t
really care if my hair was messed up or not.  I planned on getting my hair
really messed up, so I leaned in closer to him and told him that it was fine as
I started to nibble on his ear.

As we kissed some more,
he tried to undo my bra, but he was having problems.  I really wanted him to do
it.  There’s just something really hot about guy taking it off.  I think it’s
that it shows that the guy knows his way around something that terrifies him. 
You can tell a lot about a guy by the way that he handles the entire bra issue.

I’ve had some guys who
would never even try to unhook it.  They would just take the straps off of your
shoulder and then pull the cups down to reveal the sisters.  They attacked the
bra without any thought about how much it may have cost you.  Guys like this
usually attack your breasts just as aggressively as they handled the bra.

And then you have other
guys that are so afraid of the bra that they will spend all of their time
feeling the outside of it, or slipping their hands up underneath it.  They want
your breasts, but they don’t want to show that they don’t know how to take it
off.

And you have some guys
that won’t even touch the bra.  I once dated a guy that would have sex with me
with my bra on.  I got to the point where I would just take it off myself
during sex.

And then there’s Jack. 
When he started to have problems, he started to kiss me on the shoulders so
that he could see how to unhook it a little better.  But even when he was
struggling with it, he still took the time to put the strap back up on my
shoulder when it fell down.

After he had fiddled
with it for a minute, including accidentally snapping it one time, which he did
apologize for, he looked at me with a defeated look on his face.  I waited for
him to say that this was all just a mistake.  Instead he said, “Can you help me
with this?”

I’ve never had a guy
ask me for help before.  Most of them have been too macho.  They have never
asked for help with anything.  Even when other guys have struggled with the
whole bra thing, they just gave up.  I took it off for them, and then they went
to town as if I had just opened the doors to heaven.  They couldn’t get in
there fast enough.

It was nice to have a
guy admit that he needed help.  It was even nicer in that Jack didn’t act like
Cookie Monster attacking a plate of cookies.  Jack treated them like they were
objects of beauty that should be touched delicately.  He handled them with such
care and attention that I found myself saying, “I’ve never liked my breasts. 
I’ve always thought they were too small.”

He then stopped and
looked at me.  I didn’t mean to make him stop.  I guess he thought I wasn’t
enjoying it.  He handed me my bra and said, “I can turn around while you get
dressed, if you want.”

There are times like
this when he looks sad, scared, and shows just how he has been treated before
by Brittany.  Even if he didn’t do anything wrong, he still feels responsible
for it.  There is something sweet about it.  It’s times like these when Jack
breaks my heart.  I think of all of the love that I could have given him over
the years, if we would have just known each other.

“I don’t want you to
stop.  I just...  I’ve never liked my breasts.  Most guys handle them like sex
objects.  You treat them like they’re beautiful... like I’m beautiful.”

Jack looked at me.  I
could tell that he was thinking about something, but that he was also
struggling with his feelings.  He then stood up decisively and said, “Take off
your clothes.”

I looked at him like he
was crazy.  He waited a minute for me to make a move.  Then he just shook his
head and took off his boxer-briefs.

“You’re the first girl
I’ve ever been naked in front of.  How does my body compare to the other guys
you’ve dated?”

And then I told him how
hot he was.  His abs are sexy, and he has that V-cut thing going on that
actually goes down all of the way to his dick, which he is rather well-endowed.

“You didn’t answer my
question.  How do I compare to the other guys you’ve dated?”

“I don’t know.  When
I’m with you, I don’t think about the other guys I’ve been with.”

“Why did you bring up
your breasts?  What have other guys done when they were presented with them?”

As I stopped and
thought about it, I thought about all of the guys that I have been with.  And I
don’t know if he could read my face at that moment or not, but he came over to
me and took my face in his hands.

“It’s okay if you think
of other guys.  There have been times when I am with you that I have thought
about Brittany.”

“But you’re still
getting over her.”

“Because you’ve been
patient with me.  How many guys have you gone out with trying to forget one
person?”

And he was right.

“So when said I was
seeing too much in you, you meant...”

“I meant that I really
like you.  You’re just wanting something more serious than I can give you right
now.”

“Did you know that
before you were about to sleep with me tonight?”

And it was the way that
he laughed that made him so cute right now.  “No.  I’ve felt you slipping away
lately.  I thought that if I didn’t sleep with you that I would lose you.”

“Well, as somebody who
has slept with guys to keep them from leaving, I have to tell you that it never
really works out.”

There was a silence
from my embarrassment and his not knowing what to say next.  That’s when I
looked down and without thinking said, “You’re starting to...”

From the earlier
arousal, he was starting to leak lubricant.  Being me, I stopped it with my
hand.  Then there was the awkward moment where he’s naked with his semi-flaccid
penis leaking lubricant and I have my hand on the tip of his penis trying to
keep it from getting onto the floor or the bed.  It’s always moments like that
where you find yourself without a towel or Kleenex to clean it up.

As he apologized,
became red with embarrassment, and confused as to what to do at that moment, I
felt that it was appropriate to just rub the lubricant onto his dick.  When I
was finished rubbing it in, I smiled sheepishly and said, “There.  That seemed
so stop it.”

He smiled back politely
and said that he had better put his pants back on.  He was really cute as he
turned away from me to hide his penis that had just been exposed to me quite an
amount of time.  He has a really nice ass.  He actually has an ass.  Some guys
are just a solid block of muscle or have really flabby asses.  Jack’s is
toned.  And he has those dimple things right where the back meets the ass.

Anyway, when he had his
pants back on, we looked at each other.  Neither one of us wanted to say the
words that we knew one us was going to have to speak.

And with the kindness
and graciousness that I have come to love about him, he smiled and said, “I
could really use a friend right now.  Do you mind if I spend the night?”

“Not at all.  I will
always be here for you.”

I held out my arms for
him.  He walked over to me, and we hugged.  It felt good to have my bare
breasts pressed up next to him, even if we were breaking up at that moment. 
Still I felt slightly ashamed.

“I should probably put
my bra back on.”

“Please don’t.  Since
this is our last night together, I would like to remember you the way that you
are.”

We spent the entire night
in each other’s arms.  We were just facing each other, looking in each other’s
eyes, and saying everything that we had wanted to say for the past few weeks.

We laughed.  Sometimes
we cried.  But in those hours we were everything that I loved about being with
him.

In the morning, I
helped him to pack up his few belongings.  We loaded them in his car.  And
before he left, I gave him back his ring.

“Thank you for showing
me what I’ve been missing.”

He took the ring, put
it in his pocket, and hugged me.  “Maybe I can give it to you for real someday.”

“I would like that.”

As he smiled at me
delaying his departure, I said, “You had better go now.  I don’t want you to
see how I’m going to cry over you.”

He accepted this and
got in his car and drove off.  I watched him go, not because I wanted to see if
he would turn around and look at me, which he did, but because I couldn’t move
from that spot.

Megan eventually helped
me inside.  Neither one of went to classes.  We spent the day talking.  By noon
I had gone through an entire box of Kleenexes.  Even after all of the crying, I
don’t think she understood why Jack and I broke up.  There was no fight.  We
both liked each other.  He wasn’t going back to Brittany.  We didn’t even
really discuss breaking up last night.  We just knew each other well enough
that we could call it.

When a guy like Jack is
willing to give me his virginity because he is afraid of losing me, I knew it
was time to end it.  We had promised each other that we would use each other to
get over the previous breakup.  I don’t know if I helped him or not.  If
anything, he was starting to turn into me.  At least we realized it and ended
it before I could have destroyed him.  He’s far too beautiful a person to end
up like me.

Despite the fact that I
loved him, he made me realize that I still need to work on myself.  That’s
something I haven’t done in a very long time.

He has spent the past
couple of weeks trying to keep me from getting more involved than I should.  He
was trying to keep me from getting hurt, knowing that he was still healing. 
But I kept pressuring him and fueling my school girl fantasies with the way
things could be.

I didn’t spend today
crying over Jack.  I spent today finally crying over all of the boys that I
never let myself cry over before.

By

Jack Webber

T
oday I finally went
home to my own apartment.  Steve was surprised to see me.  We hadn’t spoken
since all of this mess started.  When I entered, he just looked at me.  And for
the first time in almost two months, I saw my best friend standing there.

“Hey”, was all he could
say, and it was all I could say in response.  As I walked closer towards him, I
could see him start to tense up.  He wasn’t sure if I was going to punch him or
not.  I wasn’t even exactly sure.

“Liselle and I decided
to end it today.”  My pain at that moment was greater than my anger ever had
been.  With a shortage of sympathetic ears in my life, I couldn’t help but to
reach out to the one man I knew that would understand the woman I loved.

He offered me his
apologies for everything that had happened.  And like two old friends, we
talked about our problems.

I have known Steve
since kindergarten.  At one point, he was my best friend.  Somehow within the
past two months, I no longer knew him.

He was sympathetic
about Liselle.  He shared some insight into her and her relationship with him. 
And it helped some, but I got the feeling that he didn’t ever really get to
know her the way that I did.

Out of politeness more
than a morbid curiosity, I asked him how Brittany was.  He told me about their
relationship, how needy she is, and all of her faults.

Steve didn’t tell me
this, but he will be dumping her soon.  The sex is no longer worth putting up
with all of her drama.

I’ve only been gone
from my old life for two months.  Nothing really changed.  I didn’t think I
changed either.  How could one woman that I wasn’t even dating change me
without my knowing about it? 

The only thing I am
sure of is that home is a mailing address filled with the ghosts of people that
I used to know.  Something doesn’t belong, and I fear that it is me.  And as
afraid as I am about this fact, I have nowhere else to go.

Welcome home.