You were the one who left me neglected...

Bad sex -- is better than love gone bad. When he dropped me, left me waiting for someone to pick up the pieces, I lost it. Not just love, but my ability to trust. I grabbed what I could of the pieces and locked them away; they are probably still sitting by the dock on that sweet southern lake. I turned away from those pieces and sought out connections without attachment.

I took my 19-year-old self down to the book store and hung out in the gay section -- I was trying to find solace and comfort in the words of others. And then I noticed him, many hims, they would walk by and look, no, leer. At first, nervous, I would sneak out of the store and drive home. Finally, one day, I tucked my pieces away, and followed one of them into the loo. He was a mid-20s, army boy with red hair, green eyes and huge muscles in his green t-shirt. I walked into the rest room and he was already turned in wait for me. Pure want was in his eyes -- want that I craved from H.I.M., but was willing to accept from soldier-boy. Soldier boy pulled me to him and pulled out the hugest piece of equipment I'd seen, and then pulled me out of my clothes. From there, it's a blur; I cannot even remember the smell of his skin, but I know I walked out changed. I had my power back. Little by little, I gained control by losing it with a stranger. Whether it be that guy, Gunter -- the masters student, John -- the creepy guy who made me discover the smell of poppers on another's breath. And many, many more.

So this has become an unending loop of self-destructive behavior. With each turn of the trick (no, I never took money), I lost more and more of my ability to say no. Now, I can't even hold on to what I've got. I'd rather turn out a stranger than tell a lover how I truly feel and what I'm thinking of; the last time I did that, I got burnt. I will not burn again.