So there is this story I used to tell. Thanksgiving dinner with the fam and extended fam. Me and my brother from another mother got caught polishing off a lemon meringue pie sitting on the floor, just 2 forks, and two dorks giggling like mad gorging on my mom’s amazing baking.
Cute story huh?
Everyone always assumes we were little kids.
We were 16.
From awwww to eye roll in 3 words.
I used to bend the truth, with deft and agility. I could make it look like something else completely without breaking it.
I would do it for fun, dramatic effect but mostly out of crippling shame.
I have made a valiant effort since the year of our lord 2011 to stop.
Helps a lot that I carry substantially less disgrace than I used to. I am pretty comfortable in this skin, with my choices, my life and my self.
And then sometimes not so much.
I sinned again.
Her: Why you awake?
Me: I don’t know
Her: Fess up
I told her what I did. I slept with 2 boys on the same calendar day/night. Not at the same time. There was a few hours and a shower in between, I didn’t plan it, it just happened that way. Never done it before. I didn’t know how to feel about it. So I was lying awake at 3am sex sore, sated and muddled as fuck.
An angel of the lord came unto me and said ‘well did you have fun?’
I did. Quite a lot actually.
She said ‘Did anyone get hurt?’
“So go to sleep silly girl.”
I needed that. Just someone to shrug their shoulders at the mountain I was making out of a molehill and tell me that it’s okay.
Cute story if I was 18 and in college experimenting.
It was last year.
As soon as it was off my chest I fell into a lovely sleep.
Dirty little secrets just need some air sometimes.
Somewhere between Catholicism and Elsa. Let it out and let it go.
Confess, repent, say your Hail Mary’s and try to be a good girl (this week).
That night last year I wasn’t in a relationship with either of them. The guilt was some holdover high school horseshit wherein I once left one drunk dude in my bed to go hang out with another because the drunk one wasn’t functioning and I wasn’t tired. Massive shunning for that. Oh small towns, so glad I left. Sadly the morals are still branded on my psyche.
I do try to be a good girl…mostly.
Mostly they come at night…mostly (Aliens)
We’ve met right?
It’s what I do. I have a life and I live it. Sometimes strange gifts come to me and I’m left holding them and trying to make sense of it. I am glad I don’t have to do this alone, my angel of the lord is with me.
Wrote an article about it, trying to air it out but I couldn’t hit publish.
She knows, I told her. The transcript of our conversation is the meat of the article.
It’s one of those exact times in my life where it’s a really cute story, but the timing…
Timing is always a bitch.
Sometimes I am a bitch and I will sin again.