• To Michael

    by  • September 6, 2015 • Confession • 4 Comments

    I have to tell you this, and I know that I won’t see you again after I do. I know that you will be repulsed and disappointed, and, trust me, today I am just as repulsed and disappointed with myself as you would be. It’s been years, but still it remains a part of my past, something I can’t undo. Some people I know would probably keep quiet, since it’s no longer relevant in any way, but seeing how good of a person you really are, I think it’s only fair if you know. Maybe it’s stupid, but I just can’t do it any other way.

    When we spoke yesterday, you were so sweet and loving. I wanted to tell you right then, but I couldn’t. And then Martha called, so we had to leave. But I would walk with you all night long like we wanted, enjoying the summer air. You said you wanted to be with me long term, to start something, but I can’t lie to you. I may not be the girl you fell in love with just a couple months ago. It all happened so fast, and now I’m faced with the possibility of us becoming something more. But I can’t hide my past from you.

    I was an erotic masseuse in a high-end city parlor for almost two years. On and off, but I didn’t fully stop until about six years ago. I know you would immediately think whore, probably a drug addict, a weak person. There was no sex of any kind involved, and I wouldn’t lie to you now if there had been, but it was massages of the kind I’m sure you heard about, and an occasional dinner date. I have no stories of abuse, drugs, rape, STDs, or double lives to tell you. None of that happened. But you would be right, I was a whore. I had no money, no education, no rights, and no wealthy relatives or friends to help me out, so I used my looks to eventually secure the rest. I didn’t come to the city to do it. And I surely did not enjoy it. It was a means to an end, to a place where I was able to get a decent job or education. And it’s something I had to pay a lot for, something those born into it won’t fully understand. I am aware that all of this doesn’t make me less of a whore. I went through years of torturing myself over it before I realized that it’s over and gone, and it’s OK to laugh about it now. I’m not less of a person because of it, but I don’t think I’m enough for a love like yours. When I look into your eyes, I can’t lie, and I’d never want to. I don’t think you’ll be able to live with someone like that, given the perfection you think you’ve found in me. I’m not my past, and I don’t want to be reminded of it, but I love you too much to hide this from you. I’m sorry.

    4 Responses to To Michael

    1. peter c
      September 7, 2015 at 12:11 pm

      You are deeply honest. How few people would write something like this, would be prepared to expose themselves and their past like this. That already means you are not one of the herd, you are special. We all do what we do, and we drag our history around with us like a heavy chain. You would be astonished if you could see into the minds of those all around you.

      There doesn’t have to be an excuse, the truth is simply that we have done what we have done. We own the freedom to act, and we own the responsibility for what we have acted on. So yes, you were an erotic masseuse. Is it fair that you call yourself a whore? No, it’s not. If you think about it, a whore is a value judgment. You see a hard faced, tough women in a micro skirt on the street leaning into cars. But who knows what sadnesses, how many tears, it took to get there? Who knows how acid is the self-loathing? Who knows how often that woman dulls the pain she still feels with drugs and booze? Is it a good thing if we pile on, if we think ‘look at that slut, look at that whore?’ That person was a small child once, and maybe she was loved unconditionally once. Who knows what path brought her to this point? They are all us, except for small twists of fate. We are no different, we all hunger and all yearn for more love.

      Is it possible to feel not revulsion but caring, concern, a wish to make things better? And if so for her, than how much more so for you! There are those who care for made-up imaginings of ideal women, and then those who care for real, honest women who have made it this far. I hope Michael is one of these, if he is what you say then he will be. The very best men want their women to grow to becomes fully themselves, not to become what the men want. One road is freedom, the other is fitting into someone else’s definition.

      I wish you well.

    2. M
      September 8, 2015 at 1:49 am

      I can only reiterate what Peter so succinctly wrote. All the very best of luck to you.

    3. author
      September 8, 2015 at 4:43 pm

      Peter c, thank you for taking the time to write this. I cried when I read it. It really means a lot to me. Thank you.

    4. M
      October 5, 2015 at 6:07 pm

      If you heard that word Wh*** in a text message from me then “I cant even bare to say it because I hated myself for resorting to calling you names”, I know it was the wrong thing to say & I have regretted it ever since. I have apologised but I`m sure it was never enough and more so now because I am not judgmental. I want you to believe me because I am sorry for my outbursts. I know its no excuse but when shut me out completely instead of trusting me and you leave me no recourse to get your attention! I will do anything to make you notice me “I know not the sharpest tool in the shed” I don’t care about what you did to survive when you felt you had no other choice! You made a decision you felt was best for you at the time and I can always respect you for that.
      I have only one thing to gripe about? that is if I am such a wonderful person why do you shut me out instead of coming to me? what you chose to do to make ends meet but man you must think I am fucking horrible if you decided never to never face me again rather than come to me with your thoughts or even ask for my help, who knows we may have both thort it was the best choice. “I don’t really think you understand how heartbroken I am without you in my life” I do not want your sympathy or pity. I want your trust and devotion & I want you to not see me as the monster you think I am.
      Call me


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