Page 34

Cole: September 1st, 2024

I hadn’t spoken to her since she cut me off after the last time she asked me to date her. The message she sent, one I had screenshotted and kept, that I regularly look over was so full of happiness and hope from her at the possibility of dating me. That last genuine happy message she had sent, it was obvious even to me how much she felt that I would never have said no to her. She was expecting me to say yes…

She was so happy and excited, by me? I didn’t allow myself to believe so. Obviously, I said “I don’t know.”

Every excuse I had tried to give her was lost to her though because those three little words were not the three little words she had wanted to hear from me. She wanted “I love you, have my babies, marry me please.” Although we have both spoken about the fact that neither of us liked the idea of babies or marriage.

She had told me that wasn’t what she had wanted to hear from me but would respect my choice. I said OK, panicked and told her maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore. Which seemed to be my normal answer to her.

I run when she shows me how disappointed she is with me. Even though she was entitled to it. I try not to play victim with her. She sees through it, calling me out on it is worse for my self-esteem so I try and just avoid it altogether.

So, the last thing she said to me was “Ok then, bye”

She blocked me everywhere she could, blocked my phone number and I believe she changed her phone number that time. I did try to call her from work numbers that she wouldn’t recognise, and the calls failed.

So, I did as any rational person would do and stalked her online presence instead. She has a habit of deleting social media accounts and creating new ones every so often, using different names and email addresses. It’s smart, it’s more difficult to track but not impossible.

Especially when I keep an eye on her movements. Including the cameras I still have set up in her gardens. She’s not moved house though which is one small grace. It was something she talked about and made me nervous because I don’t want to move, I’m perfectly well set up here, where I am.

I found her new Instagram account and kept an eye on it. Most mornings and nights I would check and see what she was posting. Ok, maybe a few times during the day too. I’d watch her stories from a dummy account. Just a generic one, something she’d never pay attention to or hopefully not closely. Maybe she knew I’d be watching. Maybe she genuinely didn’t think I gave a fuck about her. Truthfully, I hadn’t given her much reason to believe I did care about her, despite telling her I did.

Actions matter; not words she’d say.

Eventually just watching wasn’t enough. Especially since the accident with my phone where I lost a lot of the pictures and screenshots I had of her. Some were backed up on my computer, but most were stored on my phone. I had little folders dedicated to her. So many moments captured over the years, stored for me to go through any time I missed her. Which was all the time.

I had lost so much; I needed some of the real thing because I missed her. I wanted to respect her and not reach out but every moment that passed made that more difficult as I thought about her night and day. She would turn up in my dreams. Those were always the best ones, and I’d hate waking up knowing that she wasn’t in my bed beside me. She should be. She had wanted to be. Would she still?

When I couldn't take the pressure of resisting the urge to speak to her. I created a fucking Instagram profile and reached out to her, sending her a friend request.

She almost immediately accepted.

I didn't even get a chance to send her a message because one came through from her faster than I had expected. At that speed she could only be horny, or more likely angry.

She tore into me.

I deserved it.

But she’s speaking to me. What I had learned about Sundrop over the years is that if she is angry at someone, she cares. No matter what she says, the “never wanting to speak again” or “don’t contact me” is if I keep her talking, she will talk to me. And she did, so I let her rant, and I took it. I tried to gracefully accept the scolding and just let her talk. She’s talking, she’s messaging me. She’s repeating herself a bit, but this is good. She’s communicating.

This is what we have become, not friends because we are too close to be friends. Thanks to her amazing photography skills and the see through butt plug she had been wearing; I have seen inside her arsehole. You can’t only be friends with someone whose arsehole you have seen the inside of. That’s basic psychology even for a fucking psychopath like me. And yet, because of me, we can’t be together in a relationship.

So instead, being so close I have become her confidant, the one she tells her dirtiest of secrets too. I get all the gossip about all guys she failed dating with, and those sexual conquests she’s had.

She always fails when it comes to men. She has the worst fucking taste. There haven’t been that many guys though, not really. She told me her body count and I know she hasn’t consented to have sex with many people. Less than you can count on one hand. It’s the same number of people I’ve fucked.

The nonconsensual list is a little higher however and that sets my fucking teeth on edge. How casually she dumps trauma because she’s lost the ability to tell the difference in what’s appropriate for conversation between us.

I’m not sure where the line is between us anymore. If there even is one. But what is she to me?

There are points in the conversation where I go silent. I act nonchalant because I want their names and addresses. I want to kill them each, slowly and painfully, like they fucking deserve. Slowly remove each tooth from their mouths. Next would be their finger and toenails. Slowly, carefully but roughly. You can inflict so much trauma with force and pressure. So, I try not make a big deal out of it because I also don’t want to scare her by showing her exactly how fucking rage filled it makes me.

Besides, I want her to be mine, fucking anyone other than just me is too many.

When I was younger and more insecure, I felt like she couldn’t possibly like me and be able to date anyone else. Then I realised that she just didn’t want to wait around for me when I have rejected her multiple times. Then I thought she had poor self-esteem by the fact she kept trying to shoot her shot with me, but she doesn’t have low self-esteem. She’s quite secure in herself.

It’s extremely confusing for me.

She’s told me how confusing my behaviour is for her.

Still, we’re not quite friends, not lovers and yet I love her, so I don’t know how to explain to anyone who she is to me or what she means. She is the most important person in the whole world to me. How she controls my mood and holds my head and heart in her hands. They belong to her even though I keep telling her they don’t and never will.

I know not being with her makes me more depressed, I know that people around me see the change in my moods. I sleep less, am more prone to irritation which is dangerous territory for me. Food doesn't even taste good anymore.

They don’t realise the anger, the depression, that it’s because of her. Those times I smile at my phone is because she’s messaging me. The times where I’m sullen and quiet are because she’s gotten fed up with me being a fucking idiot and has stopped messaging me. There are times I drink too, neither one of us was ever much of a drinker, not anymore but I’ve certainly never enjoyed in the past seeing her drunk. I only drink when I don’t have her to regulate my emotions for me. So, these past couple of years, alcohol has become a way to help me sleep at night.

So much relies on her and I’m surprised I haven’t just killed her. Fucked her and killed her. It would be the easiest option and yet, I can’t think of what a world without Sundrop would be like. She is the sun in the sky, the thing that blinds me and burns me I know I can’t live without. Wouldn’t even want to try, not really.

She’s so beautiful. She’s so fucking hot. I remember the times I was able to freely tell her that. When she was mine and she loved the compliments. They came easy because they were true. She is beautiful. She is hot. To me, and most others, she is the most stunning, gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I loved being able to tell her that without a filter. I think I gushed a lot about it.

That time when she was genuinely all mine, was the happiest time in my entire pointless fucking existence and I told her so often. She laughed and she smiled, and she seemed happy to be mine. That’s what she wanted; me.

No one knew, it was our secret, and I loved it and hated it all at the same time. She was mine, but it was too much pressure. The secret I was always keeping from her, feeling like I was lying to her all the time. She didn’t know and I didn’t feel good about it. We can’t be together but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish we were.

I want that informality with her again, she’s mine, I want her, but something always holds me back from just saying so, from just dating her.

This time it takes me from Thursday to Monday, to the conversation falling off again, she is the one holding it. Sending me pictures of a book she’s just bought, some fantasy paperback about faeries. We chat about romance books.

She berates me for calling it porn. Explains in length the difference between romance and porn. I could listen to her talk about anything. I daydream of holding her, have her read out loud to me.

She knows what turns me on and the conversations falls easily back into sex with us, between us, as always. She knows all my secret wants and desires and I know hers, this is why there is such a wall between us. I almost want to drag her out to the nearest jewellery shop and buy her the most expensive engagement ring. Not because I want to get married, I’m not actually convinced she does either.

No, she said that to me because she wants reassurance that I'm not going to waste her time again. Again, like I keep doing to her. I have given her no reason to trust me. In fact, if I’m honest, all my actions have screamed manipulation and under normal circumstances it would be. It’s never with her though, that’s why I keep my distance because if we were together, I’d have to lie to her, I’d have to manipulate her to keep us both safe.

I won’t do that to her.

I also can’t stay away from her.

She sends me another picture; it’s of a book she’s downloaded onto her e-reader. The cover looks quite plain, but the title is quite explicit.

Me: What the fuck is that you’re reading?

Luna: It’s about a ghost and a woman having sex

Well… if there was anything I could have guessed, it wouldn’t have been that!

Me: What?

Luna: You read that right, ghosts and people and they FUCK

Me: They don’t just fuck, they FUCK?

She always sends multiple emojis. How I know her favourite ones to use and her own meaning behind them. You’d think she might be sending the laugh sarcastically but the number of emojis in this case does in fact literally increase the more she’s laughing. I’ve made her laugh. It feels good. This is what I have missed.

I smile but know it might not last. She’s got boundaries and self-respect now. Helping improve that backfired on me massively, because now she doesn’t tolerate my shit either. She’s not afraid to cut anyone off, no matter who they are to her. No matter how hard it is for her. She’s obviously desperate to speak to me and has missed me too. Yet she refused to reach out to me, I thought she genuinely wanted nothing to do with me. Turns out she is still waiting for me to do the right thing.

Me: I wonder what ghost cum would taste like?

Luna: That’s what you're thinking about?

Me: Well, do you think it would have a taste?

Luna: Actually, I’ve not read any books about fucking or sucking off a ghost before so I’m not sure, I will have to investigate further!

Luna: Oooh but I have read books about fantasy creatures or monsters and some of them have unusual cum.

Me: Unusual how?

Luna: Like flavoured, there’s some Christmas themed ones who's cum tastes like peppermint, or there’s different colours and textures

Me: I think I’d prefer just normal cum to like chocolate cum or something

Luna: Do you suck a lot of dicks to have come to that conclusion?

Luna: Come see! Haha I’m funny!

Yes, she fucking is because despite the talking of me sucking dick, how did we even get onto talking about that? I like that she’s happy and happy speaking to ME.

Me: No, but I still think it would be better to be normal than something strange like that

Luna: I don't know, pink glittery candy floss flavoured cum might be pretty cool

And now I'm going to have a complex of not being good enough for her because I don’t have pink glittery candy floss flavoured cum. She gets right in there though before I can feel bad at not reaching an impossible standard set by romance books.

Luna: I think your cum would taste the best though

And she saves the day again, how does she always know what to say to make me feel better? I worry though, because what if she doesn't like the taste of my cum? She’s gone on at length in the past about how much she wanted to suck my dick. I was worried she might not like the taste. The disappointment it would cause her.

Luna: BUT now, back to talking about YOU sucking dick

Me: Do you like the thought of that?

Luna: Yeah, that’s hot as fuck! You know I'm into that

Gods yes, fucking pervert.

Me: You are a pervert!

Luna: Yes, I am, but so are you

Yes, we both are, I think, laying back on my bed, my hand stuffed into my boxers as I think about her sucking me off.

I forget to reply to her, or maybe I don’t want to because I’m already falling back into a routine of having her in my life again. It’s too easy with Sundrop. It’s like she’s a physical piece of me that I’m missing when she’s not in my life. Something vital that without her, I find myself unable to breathe properly. That scares me.

So, I don’t reply and instead I spend my evening watching the cameras in her front and back garden, watching cats and cars and the occasional person wandering by. No one goes near her though for which I am grateful. However, it also worries me how isolated she’s become. I wish she had friends, people around her and yet, there doesn’t seem to be anyone in her life anymore.

Maybe if I knew she was settled, no matter how much it would hurt now seeing her with another person, a man most likely since despite being bisexual, she seems to naturally gravitate towards men. No matter, I do wish she was happy and settled, maybe then I could get over her. Let her go finally.

I always looked forward to getting the good morning beautiful text in before she was able to send me something similar. Gorgeous, handsome, sexy are some of the things she’d call me. I’d even take the “fucking idiot” or “dumbass” I occasionally get called by her too. I didn't send the message this morning because again, falling into the routine of acting like she’s my girlfriend when she’s not really is hard on us both but what am I supposed to do? That’s all I want in life.

Oh, she gets pissed off and a little after 9am, I get an angry message about how I clearly don’t respect her and her time. That I can just ignore her messages. Which is exactly what I did.

Me: I didn’t see your message, I’m sorry

I am sorry but I am also lying to her, again. I don’t want to lie to her, but it’s gotten to such an awful fucked up place that I couldn’t tell her the truth now even if I wanted to. Where would I even start? I couldn’t tell her everything so what’s the point?

Luna: I don’t believe you

And with that I know she’s going to block me. My stomach falls out of my body. I know it’s coming, and I hate when she does this. I do deserve it. I want to go around to her house, pack her up, throw her into my flat and lock her in it.

I won’t, I can’t.

I want to use the straps I know she has for her bed that I hope she’s never used with someone else. I want to strap her to my bed and leave her there forever.

It is anxiousness that crawls over my body as I wait for her to block me. It only takes a few minutes, and I see her contact become unavailable to me. She hadn’t given me her new mobile number; we had been chatting through social media. I wait a few minutes and delete the profile I have on Instagram. I only set it up to speak to her. I don’t want it if I don’t have her to talk to.