Bad Girls Don't Cry

Chapter 3

Very few of these encounters really left any kind of impact on me other than temporary physical pain that just acted as a tormenting reminder of my inability to be satisfied. It was like I was cursed. I had to find new and more exciting ways to get off. Sometimes at night I would walk through the downtown alleys alone, drunk and completely lost in my sexual fantasies about being taken against my will. The men in my fantasies were always sexy, handsome, and extremely adept with their hands, always knowing just what to do to please me. I wasn't there to be used by them to only satisfy their own needs. My pleasure was always paramount for them. 'Fantasies' being the operative word here. I didn't want to be raped for real, of course; I wanted to live in the fear of being overtaken and helpless. There's a difference. Every sound would make me jumpy, my heart would beat unrelentingly out of my chest. I lived in the thrills, the adrenaline rushes, the powerful jolts of fear; or what I thought was fear at the time. What did I know?

Warnings rushed through my head often, like: What if something was to really happen to me, for real? What if I would get seriously hurt? What if I would actually get raped? What if I would get killed? How absolutely insane I must have been to put myself in those potentially fatal situations for a bit of excitement. I was living on the edge, so close to spilling over, and I relished in it. I didn't want to one day be laying on my deathbed and think, 'I was afraid to live'. I was sinking so deep into my fantasy world that I couldn't listen to my own warnings and I leapt headfirst into the shallow end of a swimming pool. My desires were all that existed in my world.

Think of the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you eat or brush your teeth; such simple things you do every day without thinking. You don't even realize that people from other cultures learn them differently from you and experience the entire world differently. Those people could look at the way you do your basic everyday things and wonder how you could exist like that, and you could look at them and wonder the same thing. Cultures are strong influencers; so strong, in fact, that you don't even notice they're there, governing your every move, until you learn to take a step back and recognize them. And once you do, you'll never see yourself or the world around you the same way again. In my case, I was so submerged into my world that I couldn't fathom existing in any other kind of reality. My world was The Game and I felt like I was alone in my darkness. I felt I had to use coercion to get the reactions that I wanted, and then I would be surprised when they didn't give me exactly what I wanted the way I wanted it. I felt the idea of these fantasies was still taboo, and I didn't know how to address it well, or safely. I guess I was ashamed because I didn't think it was 'normal'. What is normal anyways? I always hated that word.

I was constantly thinking about The Game, even unconsciously. I wasn't aware of my thoughts yet and how they governed my behavior. My fantasies were so present in who I was that I would bring out little snippets here and there when I was hanging out in groups of people, sometimes as jokes, songs etc. It was very random. I didn't even notice I was doing that. I think I was looking for reactions. I needed so badly to feel I fit in somewhere but I was always afraid of judgment. If someone was interested in what I was saying, even in the little snippets I would interject into regular conversation, I gravitated towards that person. I felt an instant connection, like 'finally, I'm not alone!' Sometimes, and more often than not, I would get reactions like 'woah' and I would recluse myself from the group dynamic, instantly ashamed of myself and my 'perversions'. Instead of recognizing that everyone has their stories and their core beliefs, I took it as an insult against myself for my own inability to be part of the norm. Did I truly want to be, though? I always felt the norm was boring and in a sense, I pitied those who were unable to expand their horizons. This was a form of judgment, though; thinking that my way of Being was better than theirs and lumping all of them into that category. It wasn't right, but it took me a long time to recognize why.