He is nothing I would expect for myself: wakes up to bong hits and rips it just so he can fall asleep at night, does lines of coke with rolled up fives off of his coffee table, drinks profusely, has no plans for his future as he is not attending college, smokes half a pack a day, and has an unartful tattoo on his left shoulder blade. His vulgar ways seem to manipulate my mind and values. I still regret the night he went too far. It was when his usual playful kissing turned into animalistic drunken demands. His movements became rough and forceful and he managed to climb his body on top of mine. “It’s hot in here”, was his excuse for shedding his shirt and told me I should do the same. I denied the hotness. He rolled his eyes. Unbuckling my pant button, my heart began to race, I grabbed his hand and gently tossed it back in his direction. He got the hint. I turned away a few more of his persistent tactics, until he finally subsided with fatigue, rolled over with his back facing me and fell asleep. He had obeyed my no’s for the night and I had won…until the morning sun awoke us both and I regrettably let him in, as an apology for last night.