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Sundrop: Later March 2022

Every so often I must kill someone. Talking to Cole has distracted me and left me with little want to murder anyone but I know that’s temporary. One day I’ll wake up with an ache inside of me that I’ll have to indulge. I have no choice. Ignoring it only leads to spontaneity and that only leads to being reckless. I don’t want to risk doing anything to make the police suspicious of me, so I must keep myself in check.

I promise that for years I did try and mostly succeeded throughout my youth in genuinely not harming anyone. Ok, that’s a blatant lie. I caused harm plenty of times. Never fatally, but perhaps that was only by the grace of Kennedra, Goddess of Death. I had no love for the Gods of Christianity.

Not after my grandfather tried to curb my hyper activeness by making me read and memorise the Bible in full, and the dictionary. Not as punishment, I think he was trying to banish the demon in me. Maybe because he recognised it from the demon within him.

There was that fight in primary seven when I threw a chair at another pupil. I might have thrown a bottle into someone’s face around the same time. I got into plenty of physical altercations that involved actual punches, slaps and hair pulling. I also bit a lot of people; I had a reputation for biting. However, that was mainly if someone touched me that I didn’t want to touch me. I like my personal space and have no issue defending it.

So, I don’t feel that counts.

But violence is always brewing underneath the surface.

For the first time perhaps in my whole life, I can feel the rage still just sitting there but it’s not an active participant. I don’t have any real desire to kill, to stalk anyone. I will at some point; I’ve not given up on the one thing I can guarantee will make me feel better.

What I am currently is fixated by Cole. We message constantly throughout the day. My whole routine has morphed into a reflection of his. We get up at a similar time, we go to bed together. Well, not actually together but we say goodnight to each other at the same time and I have been going to bed. And sleeping too.

I don’t contact or message any other men. I actively ignore anyone who tries to get to know me. I don't even think about anyone else. I spent my day in a happy little haze of his undivided attention and enjoying the progression of whatever is happening between us.

Through the constant messaging and picture sending, I’m getting to know his communication style. The reliability of it and him. He can’t spell the word definitely. Every single time he gets it wrong! It’s always a different version of its misspelling and I find it so damn cute!

Which is hilarious because if it was anyone else, I'd judge them harshly for it. I’d scold them and correct them but with him it’s adorable. I haven’t mentioned it. I think back to him helping me with my maths homework in college and how I’d help him in return with his English work. We made a good team.

In this short space of time, I’ve learned that he prefers to take a bath in the evenings, usually staying in the bath for at least an hour so he can read a book. I like this, it’s a huge green flag to me. I can’t help but think of the last guy I dated and how when I told him one of my hobbies was reading, his response was terrible.

He had put his nose up saying, “at least I don’t just read fiction.” As if there is anything wrong with fiction? I’d normally have argued, I didn’t at the time, so taken aback by what he had said. I could only laugh at him. I’d say that fiction is far superior to non-fiction regardless of the genre.

Not because there is anything less than with non-fiction, oh learning is wonderful and having access to so much knowledge is amazing. However fiction is beautiful, it allows me to see and hear things that otherwise I wouldn’t. I can’t feel empathy, but I can learn about other people’s experiences and dreams and what they love and motivates them through fiction. I love fantasy; dragons and magic, unicorns and romance.

I can’t read contemporary romance much because it upsets me, I’ve never been treated nicely by a man romantically. Dark romance I can relate to, I’ve experienced a lot of what happens in those books. They reflect my normal reality.

Cole doesn’t judge me for reading romance, he seems interested. Always asking me what I am reading and what it’s about. I really like that about him. I can’t remember him being a big reader, tv and movies I always associated with him, gaming too but I must really think about it. Do I remember him talking about reading much in the past?

I was always a reader. It’s only when I’m really suffering with my mental health that I stop. Things must be bad. The last time I stopped reading was because of Graham. Even though he always went out of his way to buy me books, then ruined them for me by spoiling key story plot points.

Cole though, I make comparisons not because there is any comparison but for me, all the trauma I’ve experienced helps me to compare. Knowing that Cole reacts differently from Graham, and then Nicholas is how I know, or hope, that he is healthy for me.

Me: Do you ever put anything in the bath, like bubbles? I love a big bubbly bath

Cole: Can I tell you a secret?

Me: Absolutely!!

Now I am curious. I love when he shares things about himself, I’m really enjoying finding out these things. It takes a few moments, but a picture comes through. It shows me the bath he has run for himself, and the water is bright blue.

Me: What’s that in the water?

Cole: It’s a blue bath fizzer

Me: Does it smell nice?

I have a thing about nice smells, there are a few bath bombs I like and buy occasionally. Usually saving them for special occasions like my birthday and Christmas. I’m a huge fan of Christmas themed bath bombs and candles for the whole of December if I can afford it.

Cole: It does

Green flag. Absolute green flag of a man. I can’t help but smile thinking about him not in any sexual way this time but in a cute way. That he is going to have a bath with a blue bath fizzer while reading his book. This is what I’ve always wanted in a boyfriend.

The next day while at the shop, I go to buy a few things but I’m mainly here to have a look at the bubble baths. Cole has inspired me to use my bath more often. I generally use the shower and although I do like a bath. I get out of the habit of taking a bath and remembering how nice it is.

While browsing the aisle in the noisy as fuck shop, despite it being mid-morning. I hate busy shops, and the town centre is normally packed at lunch time between kids from the local high schools and people from their work, who head to the shops on their break. I learned to avoid that time of day unless it is un-fucking avoidable. I’d rather slit my own throat than navigate the shops when it’s packed with people.

So, I take my time for once and look around, seeing lots of nice-looking bottles. I also spot a little selection of bath bombs and bath fizzers. Although they don’t have much, what they do have is fucking awesome.

I bring my phone out of my bag and take a picture of the unicorn and rainbow shaped bath bombs and send it to Cole.

Me: Look what I just found

Cole: Those look awesome!

Yes, they do. I buy a couple and happily get home, pleased with myself. Later that evening, knowing that he will be heading into the bath, I start running one for myself. We are sending pictures back and forth of the running bath, how the water changes in the bath as the fizzer spreads.

I had chosen one shaped like a rainbow, brightly coloured with a cloud at either end of it. It was too cute. When it goes into the bath it does change the bath to a rainbow of colours. I take a video and send it to him. He sends me one back of his, this one is green.

Eventually my bath bomb turns to a more dominant shade of orange as the colours begin to mix. It’s so much fun, I forget about everything else going on in my life and find myself content to live in the present.

Later in the evening he sends me a link to a box of bath bombs he’s found on Amazon that have the same style of rainbow bath bomb that I used earlier.

Cole: Look what I just bought

Me: That’s awesome! I think I’ll get them too!

Cole: You better! Then we can use the same ones

Fuck.

This is getting a little too cute and I’m not sure how to navigate the conversation. Sex I can talk about all day, all night. Feelings and this sweet, adorable side though? This is not my comfortable spot; this feels too open and raw for me. I push forward though, knowing that I only feel that way because of how I’ve been made to feel by others throughout my life.

I bought the set, it’s ￡9.99 and it’s too cute to pass up, plus I like having an excuse to talk to him. To get to know him, to do these things with him. It feels like a pre-echo to all the wonderful things that are to come between us. I take a screenshot of the order and send it to him, showing him, I've bought them.

Cole: FUCK YES!!

I love his enthusiasm. It’s encouraging whereas I’ve only ever known people to knock me down. Again, another positive comparison I can make, knowing that he is better for me than others before having been.

The next afternoon, he is at work, and we’ve been talking about movies we’ve seen recently. I haven’t watched a lot of films, but he has, and I can take his recommendations and ask him questions about it. He’s quite animated talking to me.

I get a notification from Amazon on their app that my parcel is eight stops away from being delivered. I sent him a message telling him.

Me: My parcel is only 8 stops away!

Cole: I haven’t gotten a notification yet

Me: I wonder who will get theirs delivered first, sounds like I will! Cole: Nah, bet mine is here first!

We have a natural competitiveness where we try to outdo one another. Fact is that where he works is not far from where I live. He doesn't know where my new house is and hasn't been here yet despite the fact I have offered. It’s ok because he wants to take things slowly in that department. Seems like a snail's pace from how slow he is to organise an actual date between us. Also, he’s got no issue sending me a picture of his dick. I’ll think about that later though.

Anyway, it turns out I do have my parcel delivered first. As soon as it arrives, I send him a picture of the nice little box they are displayed in. About 10 minutes later, he sends me the exact same picture back showing off his delivery.

Cole: Fucking Callum accepted the delivery, and I had to explain that the bath bombs are a present for my mum!

Me: Why didn’t you just tell him they were for you?

Or me, I think… It could have been a gift for someone you were dating. Your mum?

Cole: No fucking way!! I’d get the absolute pish ripped outta me

Poor boy. Grown man and unable to show off something silly and simple like a bath bomb to use in the bath and somehow that’s unmanly? Effeminate? Men are fucking idiots sometimes.

Not for the first time, I’m disappointed in his friends and how they don’t seem like friends. There seems to be an underlying hatred amongst them, not accepting who they are as individuals but only seen for what’s socially acceptable?

It’s a fucking bath bomb.

I’ve always wanted a boyfriend I could pamper and do all the silly little skincare things with. I’d like to spend time with someone intimately like that.

Later that evening, he sends me pictures of him getting his bath ready and we exchange some sexier pictures as I send one of my tits. It’s hard getting a picture with one hand how big they currently are. It’s difficult trying to get all the boobs in one shot without using some form of selfie stick which I haven’t brought to the bathroom with me.

My weight has fluctuated wildly throughout my life. Against my will and always a bit out of the control that I like to have over everything. Despite my chaotic nature I keep everything in a tight grasp to make sure I don’t slip up. I have been too skinny where men have said that I am in fact “too skinny” and I’ve been overweight as I am now, a similar weight to when Graham last called me “fat.”

Right now, I have curves. Not just big, massive tits that feel like they are going to suffocate me in my sleep one night but also an ass, thighs and hips. My tummy is round. It’s not unattractive but I’ve struggled to accept my body as it is now.

Chebs. Paps. Titties. Tits. Boobs.

Breasts are something that I never wanted, those were forced upon me by the changes my body went through firstly in puberty and then through the struggles I’ve had with my mental health.

I liked being flat chested, I was more androgynous in my teen years rather than specifically feminine. I preferred my body that way. So, it’s hard to accept having massive tits. Besides they get in the way of everything from wearing anything with buttons up the front to swinging an axe.

I lay back in the bath and severely overthink the pictures but with his permission, send them anyway. I may as well find out if he really does like my body or not. I won’t falsely advertise and waste anyone’s time.

It’s highly sexist and misogynistic but when dating I’ve been happy to be upfront about how much I weigh. I don’t give a fuck if that puts someone off. I’d rather they dip out before I go to the effort of meeting them.

Besides, one thing I’ve learned about men is that weight on a woman and their opinion of that matter, tells you everything about how much of an asshole they are.

I get back a picture of him in the bath, neglecting his book in favour of speaking to me.

Cole: This is what you do to me

Me: I wish I had your cock in my mouth

Cole: No, I wish your pussy was wrapped around my cock right now. I want those huge tits in my face, I want my face pressed between them. I want you to suffocate me with your tits

That’s interesting, I giggle to myself. I've never killed a man like that before.

In his messages he is equal parts sexual, objectifying me but at the same time he’s so complimentary about not just my physical looks but my personality. That’s a green flag, right? The fact that he has even noticed I am a person, have a personality aside from being an inanimate sex doll? That he has noticed such things about me?

Cole: You’re so hot. You’re gorgeous.

Cole: You’re so funny!

He’s so flattering towards me. So much better than the last guy I dated, he rarely said anything out loud or by text that was positive about me. He told me once I was pretty. How starved I was of being told I was beautiful because Cole tells me multiple times a day. Unpromoted too, I don’t ask or hint. He says it because he means it. It feels right.

We joke together all the time, and he tells me that he thinks I’m funny, I mean, I guessed that. I knew that but having him say it? Makes me feel good. I think perhaps that’s my most favourite thing he’s said to me so far.

This is how he lights up my days.

This is how it is supposed to be, I think happily.

It’s my birthday tomorrow and I am about to turn 37 years old. Every day that passes, every year that moves forward, dragging me along does shock me. I can’t believe I am somehow alive, a free woman and not incarcerated. I think of my dead gran and how she kept telling me I’d end up institutionalised. I never have been, I won’t be. I’m confident.

She had been given electric shock therapy in the 60s. Maybe it was the 70s. Doesn't matter, that wasn’t going to be me. I was alive, I had my health mostly, and I was doing ok for myself.

I had made myself a cake, decorated the house and got myself some gifts. Cole and I had only been talking by text, we hadn’t been on a date yet. Still, it felt a little weird that he didn’t want to see me on my birthday.

We’ve been friends for so long, maybe I’m being too obsessive and clingy, thinking that he would want to spend time with me on my birthday even at such an early stage. I’m not sure of what the rules are in dating. I’m used to love bombing and being love bombed. It’s difficult to know what is healthy. I try not to be weird about it.

I show him the cake I’ve made, and we talk about my birthday. He doesn’t ask me what I’m doing, and I don’t tell him. I’ll be spending it alone. I kind of don’t want to admit that to him. That’s my problem though, not his. He doesn’t owe me anything.

There will be other birthdays after all I reckon. I send him pictures of the pink roses I buy myself; he tells me they look lovely. I send him pictures of the giant number 37 balloons I’ve bought myself and he goes on about how they look cool, and he’s never had balloons like that for his birthday. I made the decision to buy him balloons like that for his next birthday, which isn’t until December.

It’s ok, I keep telling myself. It’s too early for him to be doing these things for me, we haven’t even been on a date yet. I just need to relax a bit. I’m too obsessive, expecting too much. ?