June 9th 2021
The back of my scalp is on fire, the reminder of the failed conversation I tried to have with Craig last night.
I don’t like having unprotected sex with him.
Despite that, I can’t conceive a child since I had Pelvic Inflammatory Disease when I was fifteen, I don’t like not having the protection a condom offers.
If I felt that he was being honest about the monogamous relationship we were in, I don’t know if I would see it as a big deal or not. I tried. I tried so hard to keep ignoring it and to keep letting it go. I tried so hard just to be agreeable until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I said no to him, I refused to let him touch me. I told him my suspicions about his infidelity. When I tried to walk away from him, he grabbed my ponytail, refusing to let me peacefully leave the argument. I hate myself for not fighting back, for not insisting on the word no.
He didn’t care that I was crying; he didn’t care that I didn’t want him to touch me—he got his way in the end. I focused on the sound of the rain on the windows, trying to ignore how it felt to have him inside me, counting down the seconds until it was over.