Running for Home - 4. August 10, 2021

August 10, 2021

I can’t even write a goddamn trash romance anymore! Everything, everything I put to paper is a piece of shit. Fuck you, Dominik. Fuck you. You’ve even taken this from me, now. I have nothing left in me. I fucking hate you, you goddamn cheating bastard!

That’s right. He was cheating on me after all. I started cleaning up his shit, packing it up in boxes and I found a goddamn pair of womens panties hidden in his half of the closet, along with some flavoured condoms. I hate flavoured condoms. They taste like shit and half of the point of giving a fucking blowjob is to enjoy the goddamn taste of the guy’s skin, of his precum, of his jizz. Fuck ‘safer’ sex practices for blowjobs. It’s complete bullshit and everyone knows it, especially when you are in a committed relationship. But Dom was not so fucking committed, was he? I mean, he never gave any indication that wearing women’s clothes was one of his kinks. It definitely wouldn’t have been a turn-on for me, but I could have rolled with it once in a blue moon to keep him happy. Even though the thought of it grossed me out, I decided to give the panties a sniff just for some extra confirmation of my suspicions. Well, they sure as hell didn’t smell like him. And no, not like any other sweaty ballsack I’d ever smelled either. It smelled like fucking cooter, like what I remember cunt juice smelling like after I’d fingered a couple girls as a young teen. It was during that awkward phase of sexual experimentation before I decided I was really and truly gay. But the smell of those panties… I was disgusted, so disgusted that I almost puked.

He wasn’t just cheating on me. It was with a goddamn woman.

Who knows if it was only one time, or with only one person! It could have been any number of people, women, men, who the fuck knows. The flavoured condoms gave me a modicum of confidence that he was at least trying to be safe, but I still I went to a clinic to be sure Dominik hasn’t ruined my life any further. I had to get tested for the whole gamut. I went to Planned Parenthood so it wasn’t as expensive as it could have been. I need to live as cheaply as possible until I get my income back in order so no fancy clinics for me. I’m goddamn glad they are still around, limping along, or else the cost of this would have been just another albatross on my back. Goddamned Republicans and stupid fucks of the religious right. Even so, I needed to know if I had caught anything and I would have payed out if I had to because it’s not worth it to take those kinds of risks with my long-term health. I came away clean, thank god, but I have to go get tested for HIV again in a month or so and again in a few months because it can take weeks to show up in your blood. Fuck.

I know that it shouldn't bother me more that it was with a woman than with another man. I know it shouldn't. Fuck, Dom's bisexual for crying out loud. I've known this forever, known it all to well. I've watched him ogling pretty women with big tits and curvy asses. I've watched him getting off to straight porn. Hell, I've even blown him or let him fuck me while he's had straight porn on that was in the background or sometimes that he was even actively watching. He's never much watched bisexual porn, mostly because that stuff is shit - threesomes that are either too gay or too straight and in the end just look like some contrived fucking with little chemistry coming from at least one pairing of actors.

Maybe that was a sign. Maybe that was something that should have been a red flag - the watching straight porn while fucking me but not paying attention to me. But I thought it was fine. I mean, I got it - I didn't have tits, I didn't have a clit and a pussy. I didn't get a wet pussy just from thinking about him, I needed lube. I wasn't soft and sweet smelling and someone that he needed to be gentle with. Hell, if he'd asked to have a threesome with a chick, I probably would have said yes as long as I had a say in who we brought home. I'd even have stuck my dick in her cunt if he would've gotten off on it. He should have known that I'd be down for that. Actually I'm pretty sure I did tell him that once, though we were still in Freedom Force at that point.

I just don't see it, though, that the porn thing was a red flag. Even without the porn thing, everybody has at least one time in their life when they aren't completely present and in the moment when they are having sex. Everyone has times when they are daydreaming of fucking someone else while having sex with their partner. Why would watching porn while fucking be any different? We fantasize as a safe way of getting what we want, or at least what we think we want, without anyone getting hurt. I myself may save that shit for when I'm jerking off, but it's common knowledge that other people will do it while having sex with someone else.

I can't believe that Dom was fantasizing about someone else when he was fucking me, not most of the time. Not enough to fucking cheat. There was too much chemistry between us, too much fucking connection. He told me, he fucking told me in a rare moment of vulnerability a few weeks before he got himself thrown back into jail that I brought things out of him that he'd never felt with anyone else. That I was so fucking special to him, that he loved me.

He loved me.

He fucking loved me.

Why did he do this? Why the fuck did he do this to me? Why? My friend, my best friend, my lover. How much… how much of it was a lie? How long was it a lie? What did I do wrong? What the fuck is so wrong with me that I couldn’t even hold this together, the one thing in my life that wasn’t survival or my pitiful attempts to find truth through writing? Why couldn’t manage to keep from fucking up the one thing that I put a concerted effort into making work, all because I loved him? It’s so easy to just throw all of the blame at his feet, the lazy fucker, but it was me, wasn’t it? It was me the entire time, fucking it up.

I can’t. I just can’t anymore.

I hate myself.