The Losers

I wish that I was making this shit up because if it were fiction then I could be considered to be a brilliant writer. But all I am is a scribe, retelling actual events that I couldn’t invent if I tried to. It’s a story about love. But there is no one in love in the story.
I have a severe addiction to a boy. He is the best worst thing I have ever known. A boy who has no intention, whatsoever, in reciprocating the emotional connection in any way that does not serve him. Its what I like the most about him. He has been busy, living his life, doing what young people do, and I have done everything in my power in the past two months to get his attention. And finally, he was available. I was shook, I didn’t think he’d ever see me again so in order to make the experience epic, I pulled out all of the stops. I planned a party, just for him, a party where there would be food and people and its success was predicated on a trick. See this boy, wants a mistress. He wants to be completely dominated and owned. Its a simple task, but knowing that is all he wanted should have deterred me. I didn’t want to make him subservient, I wanted to make him mine. So I pretended for many months that a dominatrix was what I could be and as disingenuous as my portrayal was, I felt like it was worth it, just to be next to him. I didn’t want to cage his cock, I wanted to sit on the sofa and eat popcorn with him. I didn’t want to punish him with beatings, I wanted to kiss him for hours. But in order to get next to the boy, I had to act like I wanted his submission. In a way I did but not just physically, mentally. So the problem was that he doesn’t want to be with just me. He is a young man, he wants to sow his oats, and I understand that. So when we got together it was predicated on the promise that I would eventually set him free. I could cage him during our sessions and do whatever I wanted with his body just as long as I agreed to eventually let him completely go. My clever plan was to scare him, to have several people over, drinking and smoking and doing drugs, who would randomly come up to him and say throughout the evening, “you know she is never going to let you go after tonight.” I thought he’d be sufficiently terrified at the prospect, so when they all left and I made love to him he would be thinking what he wanted to think, which was this was real entrapment and not just a show. But it didn’t work out like that, of course. Getting the party together required that I had access to drugs, which I don’t have. So my desperation reached out to someone that I knew who did. The ex. This would have been a suitable arrangement in normal circumstances but this particular ex doesn’t understand how being an ex works. He is convinced, confident even, that we belong together. He has demonstrated over the past three years that not only is he pathetic and delusional, but that he is psychotic and temperamental. For some reason, I still felt like it would be worth the risk. I still felt like using him to get the boy was worth it and justified because there are no rules to love, and anything is fair game. It never occurred to me at the moment that I had become him, desperate, and lying and manipulative. If I was any kind of woman I would have just said to the boy, boy, I don’t want to be your mistress. I love you. I want to be with you and no one else. And if I had a spine at all I would have stood there while the boy told me no, took the hit like a soldier and let it go and moved on with my life. He is the best worst thing I have ever known. But instead I tried to throw him a party, get him fucked up and vulnerable so I could lay next to him while he slept in a drugged stupor and counted his heartbeats. I ended up having to convince the ex that since the boy was going to be in a submissive state, that we could all have a wonderful evening together, an orgy if it came to it, and that we were a team and I was letting him into my inner world. And he got the acid for me and the weed and the ecstasy and the booze and everything I thought that it would take to subdue the boy and all I needed was one other woman present, so it felt party-ish. I was so extremely worried that the boy might cancel, that I made promises to him to devour him all night. But not once did I mention there was going to be fanfare or other people. I wanted him to be impressed and surprised at what great lengths I would go to in order to be in his presence. But the ex couldn’t find a chick. He probably didn’t try hard and he took some of the acid, which he really shouldn’t have and when the boy arrived he must have been hurt when I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, when I couldn’t stop touching him, watching someone else get the affection that you want must be incredibly painful. I know it is, I have had to suffer through it myself. The boy was not impressed with the scene, he got in his car and he didn’t drive away he just sat there, fuming. I was in rips and shreds, tattered none of it mattered without him, he was the whole point. So I stood outside next to his car, with my fingers in his driver side window, breathing hard on the glass, in near tears begging him to come inside and be with me for a little while. I knew what it was going to take, it was going to take making the ex leave and then I could have him, and in all my drunken boldness, I told the ex to go. I thought that the man in him would, I thought he would take the hint and take off and he did for a little while. And the boy, who was looking at me like I was the most crazy person he had ever met, was turned on a little because even if this was not how the night was supposed to go, I still demonstrated that nothing would make me happier in the world then spending time with him. I bought food, and LED lights and water show speakers and whips and chains and every thing I thought would please him and he came in and for a moment it was beautiful. I sat next to him on the sofa and explained to him everything that I am explaining in the story now and the narcissist in him was getting so full off it he couldn’t take anymore. Just to touch him is like kissing god on the mouth. Just looking at him for a second, makes my skin feel like its glass. But now I was drunk and high and it was time for me to show him I was in control, I was supposed to take his personal cage off and put one on that only I had the keys to and destroy him for hours. He is still supposed to be here, under my thumb, right now, with a bit in his mouth begging for mercy. He is the best worst thing I have ever known. But then the ex calls. He is livid. He is high. He feels used. He is threatening to cut the boy’s tires if I don’t let him into the house. I’m panicked, what the fuck is happening…. I tell him I will come out and talk and as soon as I go out, the boy, because he is brilliant, locks the door behind me. I have no key, so now, I can’t even get in. The ex is fuming, he is high and his heart is racing. He tells me how much he loves me and how much being with the boy is ultimately going to destroy me and that he is looking out for me and he is going to save me. I tell him to leave, he is disturbing my neighbors but his dick is getting hard off of this because he subscribes to chivalry, like its a real way to exist in the world and in his high state the boy has become a dangerous dragon and I, a damsel in distress. He eventually left but all I could feel was sorry for him. I didn’t feel any love, I hadn’t felt any love for a long time but I knew if I pretended to, I could get him to do whatever I wanted him to do. But now, he had taken every note from every romantic movie and song and every whisper a girl could have of being fought for and turned it into a scene in front of my house. And if I had any ounce of respect for him, he wouldn’t have been a pawn in the first place. If I wanted him for any length of time at all, there would be no boy. He wouldn’t be putting together a sex party for someone, if he were the one. But all of that he ignored. Just like I ignored that before this night, I hadn’t seen the boy in two months. “He was busy”, he said. I know better but I didn’t care, I wanted him and at that moment the ex was the worst version of me. I would never had tried to physically force the boy to stay, I thought, in a self righteous second, but standing at his car window, scared, flashed through my mind and I could see that me and the ex were the same, sad, desperate, useless, disgusting person. He is the best worst thing I have ever known, this boy. Eventually the ex left and then the boy let me back in. I would never let anything happen to his beautiful face.  I never bought a replacement cage, I had no intention of dominating him and in my drunkenness all I could be was the truth so I lay next to him on the bed, on his chest and fell asleep. He was as you could imagine truly disappointed. Nothing was coming to me but tears. I felt so foolish, so desperate, there was no need for this, I have a Rolodex full of dicks, I can get fucked at the drop of a hat, and I even had an ex who was border-lining on stalker, who would dote on me at every turn if I needed an ego boost. The boy wasn’t in love with me, I knew that and he would never be, I knew that too and still I could not be honest. I told him to leave. He asked me, do you feel like you made the wrong choice, picked the wrong person? And I said no, I know you are the one. But I also know I have twenty years on you, and I know I’m not really a mistress and I know the way I feel is irrational and there is no reason for you to be here, you are not going to give me what I want and even though you are the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen, get out. Most of that was in my head, the only thing that I could actually utter was get out. Without much fuss at all and in the middle of an acid buzz he took off and I just set there, defeated. Of course the entire time the ex was blowing up my phone. Messages for hours about how he is the best thing for me, that he will fight for me, that he forgives me. Its so sick. Somehow he feels superior to me in such a way that his forgiveness is supposed to mean something. So now I am here. I am here and I am writing this down because I don’t believe it happened. I had to apologize to the boy, this is not how I wanted him to remember me forever. But now I know I have to fully let both of them go, the ex is not my friend or my lover or anyone important to me at all and using him to get my way makes me a monster. The boy is young and needs to see and experience the world and I am not the tour guide for that and being around him makes me a clingy puddle of nothing so he too has to go for his own good. He is the best worst thing I have ever known. I have no other option but to write it down so that I don’t forget to never do it again. The ex is not in love, he is a possessive loser. The boy is not in love, he is just trying to experience life. I am not in love, I am just obsessing over a man I have turned into an object and therefore I too am nothing more than a possessive loser. I wish that I was making this shit up because if it were fiction then I could be considered to be a brilliant writer. But all I am is a scribe, retelling actual events that I couldn’t invent if I tried to. It’s a story about love. But there is no one in love in the story.


2 thoughts on “The Losers

  1. Wow.!!! I want to tell you that you can turn this around. I want to tell you, you can use the boy and dangle him on a string. So that eventually he would be yours. I want to tell you. You were wrong to bring the ex in the picture. I want to tell You should have used alcohol it would have worked just as well. I want to tell you if you were going to act the part of Dom. Doing it Sober would have shown that you were the real deal. I want to tell you mixing what you mixed was dead wrong. But i am a fan just reading along and you already figured out what went wrong. I hope you never forget and you learn from this. I can not judge. I have been “stalkerish”. I have been possessive. I have been manipulator. I have been the sad puppy. I want you to be better. Do better. Stay Positive!

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