Sleeping with Girls

I want you because I can't have you.

They say that when someone rejects us, a hormone is released in our body that makes us want to chase that very thing that we cannot have. Well, that is what happened with Sheila. And Sheila knew it too. 

I would wait around for Sheila. Long brown haired, chunky, but stylish Sheila. She was a chef. But not at one particular place. She was what they called a "Pop-Up Chef" guest starring all over the city. Often at a moments notice. And, me, I would cancel my plans with my friends to hang out with Sheila. My friends started to notice. 

"We missed you Thursday night," Addie said at brunch one Sunday in mid November when Sheila and I had been dating for about 3 months. 

"Oh you missed a good night," Layla chimed in. Layla always had a new lady and I admired her for it. She was a loyal friend, but I couldn't speak to how she was in her relationships. 

"Aww" I made a frownie face, "I miss you all, too." I promised myself I would make more of an effort. 

I really should have spent more time with my friends. But, Sheila was unpredictable with her schedule, so I kept my nights open on the off chance we could hang out, spend time together. That meant Thurday nights too. And as luck would have it, Thursday nights was the one night she started taking off from her work, and was the one night we had been having some sort of consistency. The rest of the week she was hit or miss and  of course, I was smitten.

I was desperate to be found by Sheila. She. Lah I would get turned on just thinking about her.

Sheee. Lah

She was a top. She was in charge. She knew exactly what to do in bed, and wasn't afraid to do it.

She played a role, every single time. She talked dirty to me. 

"Just wait until I get you home," she would say if we were out at a bar together.  

And, then once we got home, it was on.

She got the vibrator out. the dildo. the strap on. all of it and was relentless and It. Was. Hot. She played like she was the man. 

And of course, I just wanted more. 

But, truth be told, I barely pleased her in return. I would cum and it would be over. We would fall asleep in each other's arms. 

And then one morning Sheila was gone. I assumed she had gone to work. Normal stuff. Maybe she was in a hurry and forgot to leave me a note. I mean, she usually said goodbye, or left me a note. Usually. But not always, so I didn't think anything of it. I figured I would hear from her.

I hadn't heard from her by lunch time so I decided to shoot her a text: "Hey I didn't get to see you off this morning. Hope you're day is nothing short of amazing." I was starting to get that feeling in my stomach. Butterflies. I couldn't concentrate on work. Not really. But I wanted to play it cool.

I didn't hear from her by 7pm. I shot her another text. "Hey! Hoping all is going okay."

No word.

No word from her.

Ever again.

A few months later I was at the farmer's market, and I saw her. She had on a green sweater, her brown hair shining in the sun. My instinct was to run and say hi, but I gulped a big gasp of air, and contemplated running and hiding. She had ghosted me after all. 

But there she was, smiling, holding hands with a boy and I couldn't stop myself. I walked right up to Sheila and stood right in her view. At first she didn't see me, but eventually she looked up and saw me. 

"Molly" she gasped. She could barely say my name. She almost sounded scared, or worried. I couldn't place what was happening. 

I just looked back at her. I was feeling determined. Strong. 

"Hey Sheeeelah," I said, "You disappeared on me." I said it lightly as though it was no big deal, although I had been in agony for at least 3 weeks after she left. 

"I know. I did." She responded. She looked around nervously. Then she pulled my arm, and pulled me aside. 

"My boyfriend found out about us and I got really scared," she paused, "He's, um, .... he's scary." She was mumbling. She was fidgeting. She was whispering even. 

"So was that it? You have a boyfriend that you are afraid of?"

"Um, yes, " she said, fidgeting nervously, still whispering. 

"Sounds scary," I said trying to be compassionate, or whatever. 

But by now I was bored, annoyed, over it. It had been almost three months, which would be almost as long as we dated. In those 3 weeks after she left, I had wept. I had felt a lot of pain. I thought myself to be unlovable, unworthy, unattractive, you know, all the un's. And then I had licked my wounds and licked myself clean, and back to health. 

Had she told me about this two months ago I might still be here trying to salvage this relationship but today seeing Sheila in the sunlight, fumbling around, barely able to see her words, I realized, I wasn't in love with Sheila at all. I was just in love with the idea of her.

Today I felt sad for this wounded, scared animal who was in a relationship with a scary person. Maybe Sheila was gay and didn't know how to come out. Maybe those three months with me or all she would ever get to do, ever get to experience with a woman. I didn't know what was to become of Sheila but I knew that this was not a battle for me to fight. 

"I am so sorry, " I said, "Don't worry about me. I'm okay." I assured her. "You look really good by the way," I said. "Take care of yourself." I said. I meant it. I only wanted the best for her.

I gave her a tight sideways squeeze, picked up my bag and walked way.