The desire to explain

Sometimes your past stays there - in the past - and leaves you alone.
Other times it haunts you.

I've come to learn it's the mistakes that haunt you the most.

This mistake just keeps going round and round in my head, and I felt the need to share it...


I'm laid next to him in my little flat, the single bed feeling like a tomb. The weight of what happened is pressing in on me so much that I eventually sit bolt upright and tell him.
"I cheated on you."
I can't remember what else was said, or done. I remember his fist going through my wall. I remember him storming off to see our friend. I remember being on the phone to my sister... but it's all vague and indistinct...

The thing that sticks out is the actual night when I ended up sleeping with another man.

We'd all been drinking - band get together. A bunch of us ended up back at Johnny's for more drinks. That ended with Sam getting totally smashed and somehow walking home. But it was so cold, and I just wasn't ready to go home yet. Luke and I had been fighting, practically yelling at each other on the phone, I was pretty sure he'd told me things were basically over. I'd cried outside rehearsals. Johnny had been walking me there when I had the phone call... I knew he understood why I was un-reluctant to go home to a cold empty flat and have to think about it.
So we sat snuggled up on the sofa talking about music, and autism, and god knows what else. Then suddenly we're kissing.
My instant thought is "You don't kiss right..." but I've just done a double shot of jagermister... so who cares right? I can at least pretend to be drunk and that this is ok. To be fair, I've been a little dizzy since necking it...
Then some how we're stood up. I'm intending to go, but he's pulling me to the stairs.
"No..." I pull away "Johnny, no." but his mouth stops me and now we're the other way round and he's gently pushing me towards them.
I pull away again, repeating no. no. no...
But his mouth is so insistent. I don't remember if he even argued. He's already offered for me to stay the night if I don't want to walk home.
I pull away again, but some how I've managed to get pinned against the wall on the bottom steps of the stairs. It's hard to pull away with your back against the wall.
All I can hear is my head screaming "no!!!!" but my body is responding to the way his hand runs down my side, the way his kiss includes his whole body pushing me into the wall. The insistent way he draws me further upstairs.
We finally reach the top of the stairs and he opens another door. More stairs. It's dark. I'm so tired.
He starts up these stairs and after a couple of steps lets go of my hand. I can't think. I'm so tired. I'll just lay down a second and...
"Hey, come on.. don't sleep there... look, my rooms just over there, it's closer... come on" his hands are pulling me gently up. oooh, bed... sleep good... okay.
Part of me suddenly thinks "wait - where were you taking me?" (I found out later his flatmate had a double bed... and wasn't in...) but the thought doesn't last long before I'm guided along the corridor to a little room. The bed is small, like mine, but really messy. I don't care. I practically fall into it as soon as he lets me. My belly is doing something strange.

I fade in and out of consciousness as his lips press against mine and his hands wander. I can't remember who he is. Luke? Li? TJ? a list of people runs through my head. Oh wait! You're... no WAIT!!!
My hand reaches for his and I press his fingers on my engagement ring.
"We can't."
He shushes me and continues to undress me. Suddenly I don't care anymore. I'm used to this anyway, the routine of it helps ease me into it all. So used to acquiescing. So used to letting someone do this...I give in and let my body take control.
All I can think is "You kiss wrong...." during the whole thing, and through it all the nag of guilt. My anger tides that over some how, pushing it down, down, down.

When it's over I don't know what to do.
Part of me feels violated, but then I also feel mildly satisfied; and the churning in my stomach is getting worse - pushing it all down, down, down. We lay next to each other, I feign sleep; where before I was practically unconscious, now I can't sleep.
It's not long before I'm slipping out of bed, into clothes, and across to the bathroom.
I want to be sick. I'm going to be sick. Oh god, please no - I hate being sick! I always end up peeing at the same time! Thank god I'm only sick once a year (if that) normally. Please don't be sick, please please please...
He comes in and finds me hung over the toilet bowl. So attractive. He must think I'm so slaughtered.

I can't throw it up though (anally/orally retentive) and I can't face the idea of staying. I feel so ill. He's trying to convince me to get back in bed, but instead I search out my shoes and other belongings (I've lost an earring!! It's a favourite!! well, serves you right) and he agrees to let me go home. Last time I was at his he walked me half way home... tonight he doesn't bother. I totter home feeling worse and worse - my first (and only) walk of shame.

It takes forever to get home through the tears and sickness, but I finally manage it. The security doors playing nice for once, the lift up to the fourth floor clunking along at its ordinary pace, the front door finally yielding to my persistence and finally I'm back at a toilet - feeling utterly sorry for myself.

Food poisoning. Bad food poisoning. Ham that was weeks out of date and bread that was changing colours... all tasted fine with BBQ sauce at the time! And I'd figured eating before going out was a good idea! That's Student living for you.
It affects me all day. From 4am when I get in, to 9pm when I go to sleep.
I feel like death. I'm confused and ashamed about what I did. I don't know what to do.
I end up telling my new best friend, who I'm so sure is never going to be able to look at me the same way ever again.


Telling Luke is the hardest and most necessary thing I've ever done.
I don't know how I stay so calm the whole time. The more I think about it, while telling him and then waiting for him, the more I start to think that it was rape. It wasn't though... saying no a million times in a row counts for nothing after any show of acquiescence right? Plus I'd kissed him back. Totally my fault.

I'm even calm when his fist goes through the wall by my head. Justified - I think. I barely cry when I try (and fail) to explain. I text Li for him so he can go talk to someone else.
Then I throw the ring at the door after him once he's left - all composure lost.

Three days he cries. Three whole days. He can't talk, can't look at me. My brain wont shut up though:
How could I hurt him like that?
How could I let things go that far with someone else?
How could I let someone pin me to the wall like that?
How could I let someone push me upstairs and into bed?
How could I be so cruel?
How do I fix it?
Why do I not want to?

Everything is so disjointed. My memory to this day is of total confusion and upheaval. I remember that I avoided band practice from then on. Didn't see him again. Except for at Oxjam, when he came and said hi. They'd kicked him out of the band anyway.

What's really strange is that I always imagined that the only reason that someone cheats on their boyfriend or girlfriend is because they like the other person more - or a hell of a lot... but it's not, is it? It happens for so many reasons, and it almost always starts with problems in the relationship.

For me, the worst part is that I still go over the whole thing and try to work out why things happened the way they did. Was the mood just right? Was I drunk? Was it the food poisoning? Was I mad at Luke? Was I attracted to Johnny? Are any of those (even combined) good enough excuses? Is there an excuse? Am I just a terrible person for having committed the ultimate sin against ones partner?
On top of all that, I don't see how I can ever be trusted again. How can I ever be believed by a partner if I say the immortal words "nothing happened"? How can I trust them to be faithful if I know it's so easy to be adulterous?

My fear of commitment is rooted in many things, but I think this is a big part of it all. Commitment means never being allowed to mess up.
I'm prone to messing up.

I don't know what on earth has possessed me to share this with you. I feel incredibly stupid for doing so in fact. So stupid I was going to leave it in draft form forever... but I'm not that kind of person. So here it is.

In the end though, I'm just that girl - the one who can't say no. I may dread doing something, or really not want to; I may have grounds perfectly reasonable not to do it... but ask in the right way and I'll do it.
There's only one person in this world I've ever found I wouldn't go against if I thought it would actually upset them in anyway; and that's my best mate Li. If there was something that someone wanted me to do, and it hurt him - I wouldn't do it. Or at least I'd be extremely unlikely to do it (depending on seriousness and severity). That's not to say I'd never do anything to hurt my friend. I often end up doing stuff that hurts him. They're the things that I hate the most. But we all make mistakes - and like I said earlier - I'm prone to messing up. I'm pretty much a mess up.

So yeah, I just had to get that said. Get it out of my head for a little while.
Now that's done, I'll go sleep.

Peace and love to you, whoever you are


Blessed Be xx