I let my fingers explore your bare chest. This isn’t as fun as I hoped. Because I already know what you like. All those other girls have done this so many times before. So routine. Those girls always make the moves. Why? Why don’t you ever make them?
And as much as I want you, I have wanted you. Not want, need? Need means you are a necessity to live. Well I guess I’m still living without you, but it isn’t real. I pull away from you. I hand you your shirt. I feel so dirty. You mumble something.
“Why did ya stop?” I think.
“Shut up. You’re drunk. Get some clothes on. Stop acting like a whore,” the words spilled from my mouth.

I never thought I could let my words hurt you. I hope they aren’t too bad. You look stricken by the comment. You put your clothes on and get up.
“Don’t take the car out, you’ve been drinking,” I warn you.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Don’t you see you need my direction? I take your keys from you.
“I said don’t. Go to bed,” I tell you.
I feel like a mother.
I don’t want to be your mother.
I want to be your lover.
You reach for your keys. You look so helpless. I have to soften up.

I toss the keys away. Guide you back to your bed. I sit in it with you. Rocking you back and forth. I feel so motherly. You kiss me, not heavily but in a thankful way. I kiss you back knowing I shouldn’t. I hate you for that. How you can make me regret everything. I regret sleeping with you. Kissing you. But I still want more. And I want it to mean more. I need it to. It can’t be this way. If it wasn’t me it would be some random Girl from some party. But I would never do what they do. You could give me a quicky, I’d try not to let it mean too much. But those girls. Those girls encourage you. Other girls don’t want you like I do. I don’t want you drunk though. “Can I touch you?” You whisper seductively in my ear. Yes, yes, yes! i think to myself “No, stop. You’re drunk.” Why do I keep reminding you? You should know, you did the drinking. But I’m not reminding you. It’s myself. You’d never treat me like this if you weren’t drunk.
You put your hand down my pants. My body quakes and I consider letting you keep going.
“No,” I pull at your arm.
“Stop!” now I feel like a dog trainer.
“Please” you beg your hands grabbing at my pants.

I lay you down and get up. I watch your hands. They are beautiful. I want them in mine. I can’t help it. I climb in bed with you and lace my fingers with yours. Tonight I’ll pretend you aren’t drunk. I’ll pretend this could work, you know what you are doing, so much to pretend. Why so much reality to delude? Because you made it that way. I hate loving you.