he said he wanted to take care of me, and to please me. he said he wanted to “make love” to me. i knew with all my sense that it was complete bull. and yet something in me wouldn’t let me walk away, leave him alone, report him, even.
it was like the whole thing was okay, because – well, definitely not okay… tolerable, perhaps – was it because i was wanted? that i somehow now was good enough that someone would want me specifically. and not just want me, but pursue me. and in much less than ideal circumstances. someone who had seen, met, known others for what seemed like an eternity, found me desirable. it made it feel as though there were something truly special and unique about me… above all, i was wanted – i specifically – and that meant i was worth being wanted. well, that was my experience of it, rather: i was good enough and i was wanted.
somehow that was all that mattered. i never had those actual thoughts, of course. they were just the underlying feeling of it all. in my almost sub conscience, those thoughts ruled rather omnipotently, tossing loosely to the wind any contradictory thoughts and ideas to remove myself from the situation.