Broken Hearts Damaged Goods

by Gunthridge, Jack

  Instead of judging me, he just said, “Liselle, I don’t care about a woman’s past before she knew me. I only care how she is when she is with me.”

  And as we talked, he said that neither I nor anything I did in the past was preventing him from making love to me. He said that he was going through a lot of stuff right now and that it was him who was the problem.

  He seemed sincere. He has never lied to me and has always been honest with me. But I have had lots of guys say that “it’s not you, it’s me.” And they always say this right before they’re about to leave you.

  I want to believe Jack and think that he’s not like other guys. I just look at myself in the mirror and see what I look like naked. I know that I’m not the most intelligent girl, and that Jack probably would be better suited to somebody smarter. And I look at my past, and I see very little that would make him want me. There’s a reason that guys sleep with me and never really have lasting relationships with me.

  And then I look at Jack. I look at all of the wonderful things about him and how he could make any girl happy. I mean, he was willing to put off having sex with the girl that he really loved just because he respected her and her belief system.

  I know when it’s me and not the guy. I’ve fallen for enough men that have never been able to love me back to know what the problem is.

  The Lover’s Cross

  By

  Jack Webber

  She tells her stories from her heart. And while she is focused on the narrative, her true meaning remains unspoken, but it is always present.

  Tonight her story was about Judson Roberts. Her narrative was about how he had her get tested for STDs because he didn’t want to use condoms. What remained unspoken was that Judson found it easier to control women by making them feel disease ridden. With their self-worth gone, obeying him and his every demand came easier. Who else would love them, except him?

  But there was more that remained unsaid. She got herself tested the other day for my sake. She believed that I wasn’t sleeping with her because of her past. As hard as I try, I can’t get her to understand that there is nothing wrong with her as a lover.

  If anything, I have discovered that she is the Jesus for the sins of my dating world. She feels hopelessly compelled to take on everybody else’s sins as if they were her own. And for her pain, she has been rejected, ridiculed, and reviled.

  As I hold her in my arms, I see a beautiful, young woman sacrificing herself on a cross, taking on my sins and pain, and only asking me to love her in return. I want to love her. It’s just that I have been in love before. A part of me is still in love with somebody else.

  The sad part is that I could truthfully tell her that I love her. I just can’t get her to understand that I am not worth loving and that she doesn’t need to suffer for my sins.

  The longer I go without telling her how I feel about her, the more she drifts away from me. I will wake up one morning, and she will no longer be on the cross bearing my pain. And I will be alone looking for a savior that has gone.

  Oct. 25, 2010

  When I entered the bedroom tonight, Jack was waiting for me on the bed. He was dressed in only a pair of black boxer-briefs. He had set up several of small scented candles around the room. He didn’t say anything. He just looked adoringly at me and motioned for me to take my usual place on the bed.

  I sat down next to him, and we kissed for a minute. As we were kissing, he slowly undid my robe and slid it off of my shoulders. As he continued to kiss me, he gently lifted my tank top over my head. Since he kind of messed up my hair as he did it, he took his hand and straightened it up for me. It was really sweet.

  At that point, I didn’t really care if my hair was messed up or not. I planned on getting my hair really messed up, so I leaned in closer to him and told him that it was fine as I started to nibble on his ear.

  As we kissed some more, he tried to undo my bra, but he was having problems. I really wanted him to do it. There’s just something really hot about guy taking it off. I think it’s that it shows that the guy knows his way around something that terrifies him. You can tell a lot about a guy by the way that he handles the entire bra issue.

  I’ve had some guys who would never even try to unhook it. They would just take the straps off of your shoulder and then pull the cups down to reveal the sisters. They attacked the bra without any thought about how much it may have cost you. Guys like this usually attack your breasts just as aggressively as they handled the bra.

  And then you have other guys that are so afraid of the bra that they will spend all of their time feeling the outside of it, or slipping their hands up underneath it. They want your breasts, but they don’t want to show that they don’t know how to take it off.

  And you have some guys that won’t even touch the bra. I once dated a guy that would have sex with me with my bra on. I got to the point where I would just take it off myself during sex.

  And then there’s Jack. When he started to have problems, he started to kiss me on the shoulders so that he could see how to unhook it a little better. But even when he was struggling with it, he still took the time to put the strap back up on my shoulder when it fell down.

  After he had fiddled with it for a minute, including accidentally snapping it one time, which he did apologize for, he looked at me with a defeated look on his face. I waited for him to say that this was all just a mistake. Instead he said, “Can you help me with this?”

  I’ve never had a guy ask me for help before. Most of them have been too macho. They have never asked for help with anything. Even when other guys have struggled with the whole bra thing, they just gave up. I took it off for them, and then they went to town as if I had just opened the doors to heaven. They couldn’t get in there fast enough.

  It was nice to have a guy admit that he needed help. It was even nicer in that Jack didn’t act like Cookie Monster attacking a plate of cookies. Jack treated them like they were objects of beauty that should be touched delicately. He handled them with such care and attention that I found myself saying, “I’ve never liked my breasts. I’ve always thought they were too small.”

  He then stopped and looked at me. I didn’t mean to make him stop. I guess he thought I wasn’t enjoying it. He handed me my bra and said, “I can turn around while you get dressed, if you want.”

  There are times like this when he looks sad, scared, and shows just how he has been treated before by Brittany. Even if he didn’t do anything wrong, he still feels responsible for it. There is something sweet about it. It’s times like these when Jack breaks my heart. I think of all of the love that I could have given him over the years, if we would have just known each other.

  “I don’t want you to stop. I just... I’ve never liked my breasts. Most guys handle them like sex objects. You treat them like they’re beautiful... like I’m beautiful.”

  Jack looked at me. I could tell that he was thinking about something, but that he was also struggling with his feelings. He then stood up decisively and said, “Take off your clothes.”

  I looked at him like he was crazy. He waited a minute for me to make a move. Then he just shook his head and took off his boxer-briefs.

  “You’re the first girl I’ve ever been naked in front of. How does my body compare to the other guys you’ve dated?”

  And then I told him how hot he was. His abs are sexy, and he has that V-cut thing going on that actually goes down all of the way to his dick, which he is rather well-endowed.

  “You didn’t answer my question. How do I compare to the other guys you’ve dated?”

  “I don’t know. When I’m with you, I don’t think about the other guys I’ve been with.”

  “Why did you bring up your breasts? What have other guys done when they were presented with them?”

  As I stopped and thought about it, I thought about all of the guys that I have been with. And I don’t know if he could read my face at that moment or not, but he came over to me and took my face in his hands
.

  “It’s okay if you think of other guys. There have been times when I am with you that I have thought about Brittany.”

  “But you’re still getting over her.”

  “Because you’ve been patient with me. How many guys have you gone out with trying to forget one person?”

  And he was right.

  “So when said I was seeing too much in you, you meant...”

  “I meant that I really like you. You’re just wanting something more serious than I can give you right now.”

  “Did you know that before you were about to sleep with me tonight?”

  And it was the way that he laughed that made him so cute right now. “No. I’ve felt you slipping away lately. I thought that if I didn’t sleep with you that I would lose you.”

  “Well, as somebody who has slept with guys to keep them from leaving, I have to tell you that it never really works out.”

  There was a silence from my embarrassment and his not knowing what to say next. That’s when I looked down and without thinking said, “You’re starting to...”

  From the earlier arousal, he was starting to leak lubricant. Being me, I stopped it with my hand. Then there was the awkward moment where he’s naked with his semi-flaccid penis leaking lubricant and I have my hand on the tip of his penis trying to keep it from getting onto the floor or the bed. It’s always moments like that where you find yourself without a towel or Kleenex to clean it up.

  As he apologized, became red with embarrassment, and confused as to what to do at that moment, I felt that it was appropriate to just rub the lubricant onto his dick. When I was finished rubbing it in, I smiled sheepishly and said, “There. That seemed so stop it.”

  He smiled back politely and said that he had better put his pants back on. He was really cute as he turned away from me to hide his penis that had just been exposed to me quite an amount of time. He has a really nice ass. He actually has an ass. Some guys are just a solid block of muscle or have really flabby asses. Jack’s is toned. And he has those dimple things right where the back meets the ass.

  Anyway, when he had his pants back on, we looked at each other. Neither one of us wanted to say the words that we knew one us was going to have to speak.

  And with the kindness and graciousness that I have come to love about him, he smiled and said, “I could really use a friend right now. Do you mind if I spend the night?”

  “Not at all. I will always be here for you.”

  I held out my arms for him. He walked over to me, and we hugged. It felt good to have my bare breasts pressed up next to him, even if we were breaking up at that moment. Still I felt slightly ashamed.

  “I should probably put my bra back on.”

  “Please don’t. Since this is our last night together, I would like to remember you the way that you are.”

  We spent the entire night in each other’s arms. We were just facing each other, looking in each other’s eyes, and saying everything that we had wanted to say for the past few weeks.

  We laughed. Sometimes we cried. But in those hours we were everything that I loved about being with him.

  In the morning, I helped him to pack up his few belongings. We loaded them in his car. And before he left, I gave him back his ring.

  “Thank you for showing me what I’ve been missing.”

  He took the ring, put it in his pocket, and hugged me. “Maybe I can give it to you for real someday.”

  “I would like that.”

  As he smiled at me delaying his departure, I said, “You had better go now. I don’t want you to see how I’m going to cry over you.”

  He accepted this and got in his car and drove off. I watched him go, not because I wanted to see if he would turn around and look at me, which he did, but because I couldn’t move from that spot.

  Megan eventually helped me inside. Neither one of went to classes. We spent the day talking. By noon I had gone through an entire box of Kleenexes. Even after all of the crying, I don’t think she understood why Jack and I broke up. There was no fight. We both liked each other. He wasn’t going back to Brittany. We didn’t even really discuss breaking up last night. We just knew each other well enough that we could call it.

  When a guy like Jack is willing to give me his virginity because he is afraid of losing me, I knew it was time to end it. We had promised each other that we would use each other to get over the previous breakup. I don’t know if I helped him or not. If anything, he was starting to turn into me. At least we realized it and ended it before I could have destroyed him. He’s far too beautiful a person to end up like me.

  Despite the fact that I loved him, he made me realize that I still need to work on myself. That’s something I haven’t done in a very long time.

  He has spent the past couple of weeks trying to keep me from getting more involved than I should. He was trying to keep me from getting hurt, knowing that he was still healing. But I kept pressuring him and fueling my school girl fantasies with the way things could be.

  I didn’t spend today crying over Jack. I spent today finally crying over all of the boys that I never let myself cry over before.

  Home

  By

  Jack Webber

  Today I finally went home to my own apartment. Steve was surprised to see me. We hadn’t spoken since all of this mess started. When I entered, he just looked at me. And for the first time in almost two months, I saw my best friend standing there.

  “Hey”, was all he could say, and it was all I could say in response. As I walked closer towards him, I could see him start to tense up. He wasn’t sure if I was going to punch him or not. I wasn’t even exactly sure.

  “Liselle and I decided to end it today.” My pain at that moment was greater than my anger ever had been. With a shortage of sympathetic ears in my life, I couldn’t help but to reach out to the one man I knew that would understand the woman I loved.

  He offered me his apologies for everything that had happened. And like two old friends, we talked about our problems.

  I have known Steve since kindergarten. At one point, he was my best friend. Somehow within the past two months, I no longer knew him.

  He was sympathetic about Liselle. He shared some insight into her and her relationship with him. And it helped some, but I got the feeling that he didn’t ever really get to know her the way that I did.

  Out of politeness more than a morbid curiosity, I asked him how Brittany was. He told me about their relationship, how needy she is, and all of her faults.

  Steve didn’t tell me this, but he will be dumping her soon. The sex is no longer worth putting up with all of her drama.

  I’ve only been gone from my old life for two months. Nothing really changed. I didn’t think I changed either. How could one woman that I wasn’t even dating change me without my knowing about it?

  The only thing I am sure of is that home is a mailing address filled with the ghosts of people that I used to know. Something doesn’t belong, and I fear that it is me. And as afraid as I am about this fact, I have nowhere else to go.

  Welcome home.

  Oct. 26, 2010

  Jack called me last night. I was glad that he did. He said that he missed me. I told him that was part of the whole breaking up thing. He then reminded me that we weren’t ever really dating, so we didn’t have to follow the rules about breaking up.

  I guess he has forgiven Steve. He said that he couldn’t really be angry at a guy that introduced me to him.

  I asked him if he had seen Brittany yet. I probably shouldn’t have. With him calling me and acting like he didn’t really want to end what we had, I wanted to know if he had seen her or felt anything for her.

  He said that he hadn’t seen her and that he wasn’t going to go to the bars to look for a random hookup, either. I told him I understood and that I had given up on men for a little bit. My vibrator would have to satisfy me.

  He asked me if I had my vibrator nearby. He then started to tell me that he was kissing me
. The next thing I knew we were having phone sex. The sad part is that he was better over the phone than a lot of the guys I’ve done in person.

  He even continued to talk after the sex. We spent the rest of the night on the phone talking about stupid stuff. It was so stupid that I can’t even remember what it was about.

  By two in the morning, we were both getting tired, but neither one of wanted to hang up. That’s when Jack suggested that we put our phones on speaker. “Put yours on the pillow where I used to sleep, and we’ll talk like we used to do.”

  “I’ll put it on your side of the bed. I’m kind of hugging your pillow, while it still smells like you.”

  “You’ll have to give me something to remember you by. All I have are the memories, and they aren’t quite enough to comfort me tonight.”

  I don’t know what time I fell asleep. I passed out talking to him and holding the pillow that he had been sleeping on since he started spending the night with me. When I woke up around 7 in the morning, I called his name. He didn’t answer, but I could hear him breathing. That was enough for me.

  I spent the next two hours waiting to see what he would do when he woke up. Hearing him say my name was worth it.

  With our batteries about to die, we said goodbye and tried to go on with our day.

  Oct. 27, 2010

  After several texts and Facebook chats, I decided that I should probably give Jack something to remind him of me as he slept tonight, so I went over to his place and offered myself to him for his nightly comfort.

  I didn’t think about Steve answering the door. I had forgotten how little he talked. Of course, to be fair, I was dressed in a slightly inappropriate night gown to be knocking on somebody’s door at nine o’clock at night. When I ignored his silence, I let myself in and was soon greeted with Brittany.

  As soon as I saw her, I was looking around for Jack. It’s always best to not get into a cat fight when you don’t have a guy around to defend you. And Brittany had her claws out. Before I even got to the living room, she said, “My, we’re looking slutty, Liselle. I thought you and Jack had broken up?”