So Paul apologized for what he did. But it hasn't changed a thing. It doesn't change my insecurities. It doesn't change the fact that, deep down, I'm not that good of a person. I'm not sweet. I can be hell.

Which leads me  to figure: maybe I put too much blame on him. Maybe what he did was just something that happened to me. Maybe it's not the reason why I'm me. Maybe I'm the reason why I'm me.

Maybe I'm just doomed to fail by my own shortcomings. Maybe I will always be trapped in this state. Maybe I will never be good.

I just don't know what to do.

I knew what Paul wanted from me, and he knew how to get it.

"I would do anything for you."

"Not anything."

That was the first time he took a stab at my vow of purity. There where so many more after that.

Then one day I was bringing him home from work.

"Everyone at work always talks about what they do with their boyfriend and girlfriend. I wish I had a story to tell."

I know what I should have done. It's what I would have told myself to do in that situation. I should have stopped the car right there, pushed him out, and told him to walk home because we were through.

But when we got home, I sold my virginity for bragging rights.

I can remember every detail. I can remember his heavy breathing, his body on top of mine, the motion, the sweat dripping from him to me. Most importantly, I remember squeezing my eyes shut and telling myself to just let him do, that this was the best I would ever do. I thought it was the closest I'd ever come to love, because I wasn't worth the real thing.

I cried after. Not immediately after, but while we were eating. I couldn't get the though the lump in my throat. Tears ran down my face. I didn't sob. I was telling myself to be what he wanted. Paul took my tears the wrong way.

"Listen, the first time doesn't feel that great for most people. It's okay. We can try again later." Paul didn't realize I was crying because I had just lost what I was hoping to walk down the aisle with. That he had taken it from me. But I couldn't say that, because then I would lose him.

Paul coaxed me through the meal, and we did try again. This time I didn't cry. I pretended to be happy. After that, I grew cold with him. I would only display how much he hurt me in the occasional fight. I would accuse him of not being my protector. Then I would apologize and switch gears back to the girl he wanted me to be.

After we had sex, I told him I didn't want to again. But we did. He knew the perfect formula of guilt mixed with biting words mixed with lust to get me to obey his whims. After every time, I said never again, but we both knew better.

Eventually I couldn't go on anymore. The endless cycle was tearing me apart. I broke up with him. He wa barely phased. We both knew it was coming.

Then I dated Eric. For all his faults, he never once forced sex upon me. He taught me about making love. It was beautiful, even if it wasn't right.

It was beautiful until the insecure part of me started working on me. He had slept with two girls before me, and I wondered if he compared them to me. He gave me no reason to think so. He gave me no reason to think he only wanted sex from me. In fact, he gave me evidence to the contrary. I refused to believe I was good enough.

Eric eventually broke up with me. He saw that I had an unhealthy attachment to him. Because I was so horribly codependent, I was depressed. Eric realized that there was something about him that hurt me, so he cut himself off from me. He did me a favor. I didn't realize it at the time. At the time I was furious.

Now with Alex. We have never had sex. We agree that we want to wait until marriage. But sometimes a little voice enters my head. It insist because he refuses to sleep with me, (and I have tempted him at moments) there must be something wrong with me. I must be hideous. He's disgusted with me. Alex tells me every day how beautiful I am. He constantly tells me he loves me. Better than that, he proves it. He is my protector, and because of the lessons I learned with Eric, I can have a healthy relationship.

Still, in my dark moments, I think so little of myself. I think I'm worthless. Most of the time, I know that I am worth loving, but when it seems like the world is conspiring against me, I feel that Alex has to have ulterior motive. I feel that he must be out to get me too. In these moments, I lash out at him for not giving in to me. In his eyes flash hurt. He wonders why I think like this. He doesn't understand that I'm more angry at myself than him. But, still, when it would be so easy to ease my anger with lust, he refuses to give in, and I admire him for it.

Alex is the protector I prayed for. He loves me when I'm good, and when I'm not, he still insist I'm his sweet girl, despite the fact that I'm ticked off at him at the moment. He puts me before bragging rights and pleasure. He never sells me short. He safeguards what's left of my innocence for my wedding day, without concern that he may not be the groom.

How could I not love him?   

 

So today was supposed to be a randomly awesome day. We went to the cafe then Circle Park, the playground, to discuss matters of the faith and watch the parade. After the parade, Brennan, Brandon - who had just gotten into RCIA that day and was super excited - and I were walking to Brandon's car to head back to the cafe when we met up with a guy we know called Lane. Since Brandon is super-excited about becoming Catholic. Lane proceeded to tell us about what douchebags Catholics are and how the Catholic Church was going to fall in five years. Why are people so hateful?