He made a fatal mistake: on a second date he called himself my man. I know it was meant to tease me, in the middle of sex. But it was a turn off. He is not my man, my boyfriend, nothing like that. I could not look at him, at least on a second date, and see him with such role of dominance, or partnership. The very expression made me scan him for any signs of weakness and flaws of character.
I am an old mare, never truly tamed.
Between turns I told him that was our second and last time together. Sex was good, he was a nice guy, but he was too complicated, and I don´t want complications in my life. He looked into my eyes and asked: are you really ditching me? You fucked me and now you´re saying yeah fine and good bye?
I felt sorry for him, and for half a second thought I should take it back, but I couldn´t it. The point of no return had been crossed. “Yes. Saying it to your face is better than ghosting you. And you must admit that it is a great farewell, isn´t it?”
Rejection sucks. I´ve been there. I´ve been rejected. God, how it hurts! It hurts when it is just your pride and vanity at stake, it is devastating when your heart is simply ignored and disregarded. At that point, it was just masculine pride that was injured. He´ll survive.
People survive worse.
What really scary is that I did not think of the consequences. I hardly knew the guy. I had the general feeling that he was a gentle and honest man, and nothing else, and as I lawyer I´ve seen men grow violent and / or mean for less. I guess I was so irked by the idea of belonging to him – or to anyone else, at least for now – that I reacted without thinking properly.
A thousands men I might bed, and none of them would truly have me. I am a cat which turned feral. No social skills, and yet, poor survival skills. I still have a lot to heal.