Continued Encounters in Beasties Breathless Bedroom

When I was around ten, I started watching this show, can’t remember what the name was, but there was a lot of drama and sex and hot men and women. Well, one of the main characters was the first guy to spike my interest but I never really cared much, just thought he was pleasing to look at. Then I watched an episode where he had sex with some girl and that night I dreamed about me in her place.

The next day, I saw guys differently, I saw them in a new light. Like in a, if you were naked, would you look like him, kind of light. My first crush actually developed because my crush looked like the guy on that TV show.

Then, at eleven I hit puberty and I started wanting the things I would see in my dreams to happen in real life, the downside of going through puberty so early. That’s when My fantasies began, instead of just having dreams of things that I saw but with me in their place, I started coming up with my own scenarios with everyday people. My friends, strangers, celebrities. It was overwhelming because I thought that nobody thought like I did, that it made me different and weird.

Now, while I was figuring out that I was a freak of nature, I was also dealing with bullies. The ironic part is, the bullies weren’t from the people I’d met at the apartment, the bullies were my siblings. The people at the apartment loved me, I was pretty much the circle of life back then. While gaining popularity with friends and outside factors, I was losing favor with my family. Looking back now, I see it wasn’t anything that I did, but then I felt like everything was my fault, and that they hated me because somehow they knew that I was different, was a freak.

So, add together my new found desires and my siblings shunning me and making fun of me, I was pretty much feeling like it was the end of the world. Then! To make matters twenty times worse! We moved!

We moved to a cute but secluded little house out in buck-tooth nowhere. It was still in the big city perimeters but in a place on the outskirts, where it’s only old people and few couples with tiny kids. No one even remotely around my age of eleven and a half.

That house was the moment when bad turned to hell. I lost contact with all my friends, my siblings’ bullying got so much worse, and my parents were gone all the time. That time in my life was very dark and I have the poetry from that time to prove it. It’s all angsty and dark, sad and crazy. Honestly, that time in my life I was actually suicidal. That lasted for a good nine months. I turned twelve, got my flip top phone, then a few months after that we moved, AGAIN. This time to some more apartments and this is where things get better.

After my isolation from the outside world, and dealing with nothing but torment and anguish from my siblings, I was in a really bad place and didn’t want to socialize or deal with anyone. I shut myself off, built an impenetrable wall to block out everyone.

I had this spot I would go to, to be alone, it was this tower that overlooked the pool area. It was very open, you could see on top of it from the second story apartments, but it only had one way up, a circular staircase in the pool area, it was fenced in, and it was high of the ground. Perfect for me.

One night, one of my brother’s and I are sitting in the pool area, I’m reading, he’s on his phone, and we see these two guys walking, one blaring music and the other talking ten miles a minute. They pass by us outside the gate and we continue what we’re doing. Again, they walk by, going back the way they came, we ignore them. Again and again, this goes on. Till they finally come inside the gate, they sit on the opposite side of the pool, not bothering us even though their music is loud enough so we could hear it.

They get closer.
Then closer.

Soon, they are basically right next to us. My brother, being the outgoing person that he is, strikes up a conversation with the guy who’s blaring music, so, logically, the one who talks a mile a minute thinks it’s okay to talk to me. It wasn’t.

He starts rambling on about something or another, but as I stated earlier, I didn’t want to be around anyone, I barely wanted to be around my brother but my mom didn’t want me going outside where she couldn’t see me without my brother until we were in the place longer.

So, since I didn’t want to be social, I kind of just walked away. While he was talking.
Now, most people would take that as the diss that it was but no, not him. He followed me. I walked to my spot, the spot up the spiral stairs. I call it The Castle.

I went up and sat in my chair on the castle. My chair faced the entry and had my back to the rail, safe. A tactic I picked up on when one of my brother’s tried to choke me when I was sitting in a chair that faced an open room.

I watched him come up the stairs, even went so far as to roll my eyes at him for following me. It didn’t dissuade him. He pulled the chair that was on the other side of The Castle close to mine and continued talking, right where he left off.

I indulged him a bot, saying yeah, and nodding my head where necessary but mostly I ignored him and read my book. I was reading Bridge to Terabithia. I was a good chunk into the book when suddenly, he switched topics. The topic change was to my book. I’ll never forget that moment. He looked at the title, looked up at me, then, with excitement pouring off him in waves, he said, (SPOILER ALERT!!!!) “You get to the part where she dies yet?”

I had never been so mad in my life! I jump from my seat and I yelled “What!? She dies?”
He got super excited from finally having gotten a reaction out of me so he says, “Maybe, maybe not.”
I had never wanted to hit a stranger so much in my entire life. I told him I didn’t believe him and stormed off to my house. Leaving my brother, the guy who was blasting music and him, all in my dust.

I stayed up until super late that night finishing that book, only to break down in tears when what he said actually happened. I was so pissed that when I saw him next I screamed at him for spoiling the book for me. He laughed like I’d told the funniest joke in the world, which made me want to hit him even more.

This guy, this one guy, who seemed so… Parasitical, when I met him, turned out to change my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined then.

For the sake of privacy purposes, we’ll call him… Zedd, in honor of the song Clarity, where he got up on a table and sang to me, just to eventually ending up tripping over himself and falling into the pool. Yeah, dork.

Zedd, ending up becoming more dear to me than my own brother’s at the time, but the reason that he comes up in my Breathless Bedroom is that Zedd was the first guy to ever offer for me to have sex. Yeah, we were like thirteen at the time but that didn’t really matter did it seeing as we had both hit puberty early and already had the urges for sex. Zedd, being raised completely different from the way I was, was completely unabashed in asking me for sex, even going so far as asking on a recurring basis.

If you’ve read my first entry (which I would advise reading all entries in order as they carry on and are apart of a book) then you’d know that as I’m writing this I am still a virgin, so no, I did not accept any of his offers.

We were really good friends. we joked, we made fun of each other, and we did each other favors. It was simple. Every time he asked me to have sex (Varying forms of it depending on where we were and the situation, hj’s, bj’s etc.) I would tell him I was saving myself for marriage. Which, at the time was true, I thought that the only way to be a good daughter (and not end up like my older brother) was to abstain from having sex completely.

Even though I never said yes, I fantasized, almost every waking hour that we weren’t together about what would happen if I did say yes.
I wondered if he’d throw me to the ground and have his way with me. Pulling my hair and calling me names.
Or if he’d be gentle, go slow since it would be my first time. Take me apart piece by piece until the only thing I knew was his name and the word more.

Both of those are highly improbable since it would have been his first time too and we would have just fumble around in the dark (Or light, since I didn’t know it’s usual to turn out the lights back then) until a peg entered a whole and magic happened.

He was the first guy I’d ever treated as more than a sexual object after puberty though. Even while I was mentally undressing him, I was also planning our wedding.

A truth I’ve never admitted out loud…
I fell in love with him.

I mean, at the time, I didn’t know it was love, I was fourteen, horny, and depressed, how the hell could I even know what love was? But later, after I took the lessons he’d taught me and applied them to make me, me again, I realized, much too late, that all I wanted…
Was him.

I know, a bit chick-flicky, but it was true nonetheless. I was in love with the guy who made me see how great I was. Sounds like a plot to a movie you wouldn’t catch me dead watching.

Along with insight into the greatness that is myself, I garnered from him a lifetime worth or sexual fantasies that all star a gangly, inexperienced virgin who suddenly turns into a man that you’d see on the cover of a Harlequin novel, and rips my clothes of, like the maiden that always stars in the novels.

Sadly, Our love story doesn’t have a happy ending like a Harlequin novel. Our story ended with a simple good-bye. No rain kisses, no airport scene, no glass touches. Just a good-bye.

Well, that’s all… For now.

Sincerely,

A Curious Little Beasty

Last updated February 10, 2018