Revised yet again! This is version 3, revised and prepared to be put into my final portfolio for this Creative Writing portfolio. I’m pleased!
Claire <firstname.lastname@example.org >
Wednesday, November 5, 2010
Halloween and Sim
I know you’ve been dying to know what happened at the Halloween party for over a month now, but I still don’t think I can explain this face to face, because it’s just too embarrassing. I can’t really stand it anymore – I need to tell somebody how dirty I feel since that stupid Halloween night. No matter how many times I shower, the faint ghost of his touch still lingers all over my skin. I can’t look at my own body without feeling disgusted. I’m ashamed of letting myself drink so much, but I had thought that drinking with him would make it easier for him to finally make his move. You told me that he was flirting every time he came over to our room, even when I didn’t believe you. You always said it was just a matter of time. I was the impatient one though…maybe if I hadn’t tried so hard that night, I wouldn’t be so ashamed of myself now.
I don’t even think Sim cares, because no matter how many times he has apologized, it doesn’t change the fact that he thinks I was a mistake. The entire night was nothing but a drunken mistake for him, and it makes me feel like complete shit that I took part in it. You know that Sim was giving me all the right signals, especially after the semester started. We’d been texting so much more, and he had seemed pretty excited when I invited him to our party. He explicitly told me that he liked spending time with me more than with his girlfriend. I believed him, but look at the texts he sent me when I invited him to the party – wouldn’t you have believed him too?
Me: Hey Sim, party @ my place tonight. Wear your costume
Sim: Escape Cindy & party w/ u? Hell yeah, but no costume lmao
Me: fine fine w/e, just get here after work. PS she’s your gf, say something positive abt her sometimes…
Sim: Meh, you’re cooler. + we’re on a ‘break’ right now
I guess part of the reason I’m writing this email to you in the first place is that I need to sort out my own feelings about him and about the night. You’re gone for the weekend and I’d rather type everything out – IM’ing or texting’s too short and snappy, I need some real advice. It does help that you’ll stop bothering me about it after you read this though. I like him, but you already know that. I just didn’t think he liked me back. Like I said before, the night I invited him over, he was taking a break with Cindy, as if relationships are like real-life board games you can pause, grab a snack, and come back to. On second thought, that’s probably how Sim decided to take things too, because now that I’m writing out the order of events to you as they happened, I’m starting to realize I was the “snack” he wanted to grab while his relationship was on pause. Warning Sign #1.
Too bad you had to go home that weekend L Maybe if you had stayed, I could have avoided direct contact with him. You’d be my buffer! But I told myself not to worry about things and just let myself have a fun Halloween. Going back to my story – It was now 11pm and I had already had two shots of vodka by the time Sim arrived. After I signed him into the residence hall and brought him up to my room, we both had two more shots each. Nobody else was in the room anymore – I threw a pre-game party, so everybody had come over and hung out with me for a few hours before heading out to whatever clubs or parties they were invited to. Warning Sign #2.
So this is where the night got scandalous. I’ve already had four shots, so I was feeling fairly tipsy. He was still fine, but I was getting giggly and slightly red. We made our way over to the bed (Hey, there’s no couch! Where else would we sit and talk?), sat down, and began talking. Most of my conversations with Sim always start out with Cindy, but this time, I refused to bring her up. Not five minutes later, I got up to get my blankets out – it was cold – and practically fell back into his lap as I made my way back to the bed. We began cuddling in bed after that, feeling nostalgic for our high school day. We were just swapping old memories. The first time we’d spoken to one another online, met in person, went out for lunch, passed out from exhaustion and homework on the same bed. Then suddenly he was leaning me to promise me that he didn’t really like Cindy, and I tried to tell him that it didn’t matter to me but his lips were so close to my own that before I could say anything, I was kissing him.
After we shared that first tentative kiss, he moved his face toward mine again. Our lips met and this time, I discovered that he was an aggressive kisser when the pretense of caution was no longer necessary. When we kissed, my senses felt as if they were suddenly ten times more acute. I saw the stubble on his chin, heard his quiet whispers between each kiss, and best of all, felt his lips on mine. I felt as though I could hear his heart thundering in his chest. I felt as though, if I turned around fast enough, I’d see flecks of fairy dust swirling magically around us.
It sounds so similar to what you told me when you first kissed Eric that I wanted to tell you that I finally felt the same connection with somebody. I just wanted to tell you that I believe you – kissing Sim was amazing.
It wasn’t as magical for him though. When I was in the moment, I was perfectly happy, but every moment after he left has been torturing me. We were in the dorm room and he technically still had a girlfriend, but that hadn’t stopped him from setting me down next to him and lowering his lips to mine, moving us backward so I was laying on the bed and then sliding his hands all over my body as if I were already his. I feel sickened now, but at that time, all that mattered was that I liked him and I was single, so I let him continue.
The next part is what I’ve had the most difficulty explaining away. It’s the part that’s been haunting me since, and the reason I haven’t just been upfront and explained to you why Sim and I haven’t spoken since Halloween.
After we’d been kissing for a minute, he tried to slide his hands under my shirt, but I wasn’t about to let him do that when he wasn’t even officially single and available. At that point, I was tipsy enough to believe that more shots of vodka would help me avoid an awkward situation. He was so intent on making out that he wouldn’t even let him go – I practically had to shove him off. Warning Sign #3.
So I jumped off the bed, adjusting my shirt and smoothing my hair as I walked over to the dining table. I took out my two favorite shot glasses – bought from Universal Studios Orlando and Hawaii respectively, and poured out shots of the Bacardi we have in the room. I had honestly just hoped to distract him and go back to innocent conversation before I said goodnight to him and sent him back home. That’s all this was supposed to be.
Before I could pick up the shots and bring them back to Sim, he walked over behind me and pulled me back into him, hugging me from behind as he kissed my neck. I pulled out of his grasp and shoved the shot glass in his hand before he could make another move. Made him toast to our friendship, emphasis on “friends.” This night had already crossed my boundaries once, I really didn’t want this to happen again. He got the hint – at least temporarily – and we spent the next hour just talking about random topics – I think we covered school, relationships, dream vacations and evil ex-bosses in that hour. Pretty fun. This is the Sim I know, the Sim that I became friends with. That aggressive and insistent side of his personality…this was the first time I saw it. It was now pretty late – past 2AM if I remember correctly – so I suggested that he crash at our dorm instead of take the subway back to Queens. The vodka was hitting us both now and I was pretty drunk. Honestly though, I also wanted to test him and see if he would leave or stay. I thought that if he stayed, he liked me. If he left, then he didn’t.
But instead of listening to me, he was hugging me again and leading me back towards my bed with him. We walked past my bed and he pushed me back into the walk-in closet. I saw him slide the door closed, the carpeted floor and Lil Wayne poster and the dingy yellow lighting disappear as the closet shrouded us in momentary black silence.
After I had processed what happened, I squirmed and tried kicking him, but my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark yet and I couldn’t see him properly yet. He was too strong for me and lifted me off my feet, carrying me to the far corner of the closet and pushing me up against the corner where my coats are. I writhed out of his grasp and almost fell to the floor, but he wrapped his arms around me, secured me to the flat of the wall, and made to kiss me again. I was confused – I didn’t really see the need to push me into the closet this aggressively if he just wanted to kiss me – but his intentions became painfully clear once he moved to slide his hands under the waistband of my jeans. I’ll spare you the gross details and just let you know that he broke all the lines, and marred my morals and ideals. You know I don’t even want to have sex until I’m married, but still, he took advantage of the alcohol in our bodies and tried pushing me entirely too far.
If I hadn’t been so terrified of losing my virginity, I think I would have enjoyed the “making out” part a lot. But as it is, all I could hear was my own frantic heartbeat. Because I’m just describing what he did, it sounds sort of romantic, but once the alcohol-induced lust wore off at the end of the night, I still liked him and he still didn’t like me back. In the darkness, the contours of his jaw were lit up subtly by the crack of light peeping through the bottom of the closet door, and the entire effect of the dim lighting made his face look perfectly chiseled and handsome. He looked so hot, but I’ve never been more afraid of him than I was that night.
I finally pulled his hands off of my body and pushed him away, all the adrenaline in my bloodstream rushing to help me fortify myself against his strength. I told him to stop and moved to open the door. If he had asked me what was wrong then, I think I would have began sobbing, but he just pulled away and stared into my eyes. His own had a fierce and hungry look, like I was just another thing to abuse and get his way with. I think I froze up with fear and wasn’t able to rush out of the closet in time. The moment lost, he grabbed my wrists in a crushing grip that left me with those bruises you asked me about when you got back from home.
He almost raped me – that part is obvious. I almost wanted him to – that’s the part that leaves me riddled with shame. I wanted things to go far, but at the same time, I stopped him before they got so far that we could never go back to being friends. He’s been apologizing to me since, but I’ve ignored the calls and voicemails. I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive him so quickly for doing that to me, but I can’t bear thinking that my dignity is gone with him. Because in the end, nothing happened, although everything almost did.
Almost’s just not good enough though. He had the audacity to text me that he thinks he likes me. Here’s what he said to me – “I think I like you, but I’m not sure that I can leave Cindy.” Well, then I need to fucking move on, don’t I? And by writing this to you, I already feel a little bit better. Call me when you get this? I need to know what you think.