I'm writing as myself today, and not as Miss Lowlah.

I know most of you that read this blog have read Vic's blog and if you haven't, you better head over there. You won't regret it.

The reason I mentioned her blog is because she has written quite a few times of situations where violence and lust are linked in subtle ways. This post goes some way in explaining what I mean, maybe not overtly but the meaning is there.

I'd say Vic and I are good friends but we're different. However, I was reflecting tonight and I realised that I was more like her than I thought, in that I get a kick out of violence. I know y'all are confused (especially you Vic) but stay with me and you might get what I'm trying to say.

I was never abused as a child, nor was anybody that I was close to (that I know of). I never saw any man close to me raise his hands to hit a woman, and I never saw any woman close to me hit by a man. I never saw any woman mistreated. In fact, all around me, good examples abounded.

So here's what I want to know. Why does the threat of violence make me want him? Why is it that when he raises his voice in anger, I want nothing more than to fuck him till I hurt? Why is it that I fantasize about being raped? Why is it that when I think of passion in relationships, I think of fights and violent sex?

I think of sex and in my mind's eye I see glass breaking, skin tearing, pussy bruising, hair pulling, screaming... I don't think of beauty or tenderness or love. I want angry sex.

The day my feelings for Goofy went from platonic to physical, was the day he put his hands on me. Look at how we started... there was no way we could ever end well. In fact, our end was as destructive and emotionally charged as our beginning (with less violence). I cried pretty much every week we were together.

In retrospect, I understand that I should have run in the beginning, before I was broken, my self esteem shattered... before I lost my friends and my head. Before my lovelife became a game of "hurt them before they hurt me".

We'd been friends since my first day of college, and he was kinda like a girlfriend or an annoying little brother. I never thought of him in a sexual way. As far as I was concerned, he was sexless.

We were pretty close. I considered him my best friend, which is odd because I didn't tell him secrets. I didn't share hopes or dreams with him. All he knew about me was what he could see. But we were close and he made me laugh, and I was so comfortable with him. We gave each other pet names and always ended our conversations with "love you boo". He was just like my brother and I loved him as such.

It all changed one day, early in my junior year. I was goofing around as I usually do with him, but he was in a bad mood. I went ahead and played a practical joke on him anyway. His reaction shocked the hell out of me. Prior to this, we'd never for one moment been mad at each other. We'd never had a single fight.

He turned around and shoved me hard into the wall and then walked away. I was in shock, I couldn't speak. I was angry, humiliated, sad... I didn't know how to react. I called him back and asked what he was thinking, he curtly replied that he was in a bad mood and I shouldn't have done that. No remorse, no apology... nothing.

So I left. I had nothing to say to him. I walked away determined to shut him out of my life. I'd always promised myself that the day a man laid his hands on me... it was over. That shit would never fly with me.

I cried for hours, my Goofy had put his hands on me. How could he? In the midst of all the turmoil in my mind, some part of me (Miss Lowlah) was thinking: "phwoar! didn't Goofy look sexy when he was mad?" I know... I have issues.

The next day, he tried to see me, call me, talk to me, but I wouldn't let him. He begged and pleaded. Apologized... even got my friends in other countries to call me and beg on his behalf. He was so remorseful. He'd never in a million years hurt me, he said. He swore it'd never happen again. He kept his promise though, and he never did put a hand on me. The only pain he ever caused me after that was emotional. But I honestly can't tell you what hurt more.

I stayed strong for about a week. But then my curiousity got the better of me. I'd never seen that side of him before. I started to wonder what he'd be like in bed... Also I missed him. In the two years since I knew him, we'd never gone a day without talking to each other. Even on our holidays, we'd run up huge phone bills talking across the atlantic. People at our uni assumed we were dating and got so used to seeing us together that when we didn't speak for that week, even strangers noticed. He got stumbling drunk one night because I was still mad at him and came up to me still trying to explain. I couldn't bear seeing him in a state so I decided to forgive him.

So I called him a few days later and told him we were cool and he ran down to my room to hug me. The funny thing was, I felt really awkward around him that day. This was Goofy that had seen me looking a hot mess on several occasions, who I goofed around with all the time and all of a sudden, there was this sexual tension between us.

I pecked him goodbye on the lips and he looked as confused as I was. I went away before he had time to analyse the situation, asking myself "what the fuck am I doing?"

He was at my door a few moments later and we just kind of stared at each other for several minutes. Eventually Lowlah (that bitch) spoke up and said "are you going to kiss me or not?"

And then he kissed me, but it didn't feel weird at all. In fact, it felt fucking awesome.

Too bad the rest of our "relationship" sucked ass.

I tend to go for dangerous looking guys, the ones that look like they can crush me with one hand. If, however, they turn out to be nice, sweet, decent guys, I lose interest... until the day I make them mad and then I jump on them... well I used to.

I was with this guy who is much older than me, for a few months, and I think I can safely say that we argued every single day. I loved it because I thought that drama equalled passion, but I got tired of it really quickly when I realised that we were spending too much time fighting, and not enough time having sex. In fact the only type of sex we had was makeup sex.

I should really thank him, he weaned me off that bad habit and made me realise that a relationship is more than passionate fights and make up sex.

That relationship ended with me driving off and stranding him at a restaurant.... ah... good times.

I guess at this point, I'm still figuring out what it is to be in a relationship, a real one. I'm figuring out what it means to be somebody's girlfriend and what it is to be totally naked and open to another person (all this and I'm still not getting any :()

When I was with Goofy, I cried within the first few days of us being together and regularly after that. I was insecure with him and I felt so low most of the time. I craved his approval and a dismissive remark from him would have me down for days... I can't remember how many times I slammed the door in his face, or hung up on him and told him it was over. I wasted so much fucking energy over those 2 years. It's no wonder that I aced my first three years of college and barely scraped through the last one (still managed to graduate with honours though... Yes. I'm that awesome).

With TBF, it's been months and I haven't cried once, nor have I ever had a reason to feel insecure. I know that to a lot of people, that's normal in a relationship... but to me, it's a big huge deal. I mean if you look at my track record, you'll understand why I'm treating this relationship like a fragile little egg.

I'm pretty sure I had a point when I started to write this post... oh well I'm tired now and I've got shit to do tomorow... night night y'all...

Lowlah ...<3