The Beautiful Katastrophe

(I) Nightquake-My Prince Intro

     All my life I would wonder how I would know when I've finally fallen.  Would there be some type of warning before my heart was taken from my possession?  Is there a certain pattern my heart would beat?  Will it be drastic and complicated?  And would I even be able to ever differentiate the feeling of lust and love?

     To be faithful is to be loyal, to be trustworthy...to be committed.  I've personally always found myself to be the best daughter, the most supportive friend, the most ambitious worker, and the greatest sister. 

     As a man's girlfriend—I've always been the worst.     

     My first boyfriend was an Indian boy in kindergarten.  I remember him being a true provider.  There wasn't a day he wouldn't give up his cookies to satisfy my sweet tooth. 

     Unfortunately, it didn't last long.  He broke up with me after finding out I was meeting up with Timmy by the cubbies.

     As my platonic love life went on, I seemed to always run into that problem. I couldn't settle for just one guy. If I saw something to my liking, I put myself out there. Not like that though. I mean, even when my body started to change and hormones came into play, I still wasn't giving it up to anyone. Boys would leave me for the sole fact that I wouldn't open my legs for them.

     After graduating high school, I finally gave in to this one dude on my 18th birthday.  Two years later, I was still going back and forth with him while in relationships with other guys.

     At first, I think I was only being selfish.  Our dalliances left me fearless.  In most instances, my boyfriend's knew.  Some pretended not to and some accepted it.  But because of this one dude and the fact that he remained the only man I would sleep with, my relationships never lasted long.  I finally began questioning my actions after one of my boyfriends had a mental breakdown, finding out about my deception. 

     This one guy though...there was just something that kept me going back to him.  It wasn't lust.  Lust doesn't linger that way.  So then I wondered if it was love.   The thought scared the hell out of me because I knew this was a man who could tear me apart if I ever let myself fall for him.  He was attractive, intelligent, talented, promiscuous and eccentric.  Different.  And maybe I would've been able to handle the women of Minneapolis but never could I handle an international harem of women.  As a musician, he got around, nationally.  And with each album he put out, he was becoming more known.

     At his most recent tour, he had every woman in the crowd yelling they belonged to him.  And if he could, he would've loved to have his way with each and every one of them.  He was an incredible lover, one that I obviously had a hard time surrendering. But I didn't want to accept that the funny feeling I always had for him since I was 16 was due to some thing called love.  So I came up with a different theory.

     I was just addicted.

~*~

October 26th, 1982

Minneapolis, Minnesota

     "Do you wanna come over?"

    "Yes."  My lips spoke before I could even think straight, causing me to sigh.  "Wait, no," I said.

     "Why not?"

     I always found myself crawling with need when his deep voice was resonating through my phone.  Whatever we'd be talking about, his dialect always made it so intimate.  "I wanted to talk to you about something and I think its best if we do it over the phone."