When your phone rings…

.. and you have a boyfriend in prison. It’s a different feeling. I recognised the area code and answered as quick as I could. The voice on the end of the phone wasn’t a familar one, it wasn’t him, an unusual voice asking to speak to me. My heart stopped for a while, you always think the worst, Is he hurt? What has happened to him? What is going on? The male officer introduced himself and told me very politely that my inmate wanted to know if I had got a visit sorted. I relaxed, it was nothing serious. On reflection though I know how desperate my poor boy is for him to ask an officer to make such a call. It is surprising that the officer did this as most wouldn’t have, so I have learnt. The call was ended by me confirming my visit day and the voice told me that my inmate wanted to see me before I went on holiday. Now it makes more sense. I go to Ibiza in 10 days. It is something that is playing on his mind. I mean of course it would. What man would even like there girl going on holiday to Ibiza whilst they were still around, let alone a man being locked up with little chance of communication and not to mention the fact we havent had sex for a month by the time I travel.  He needs reassurance, and although I have given him it, it seems he still needs more. I received a letter from him this week. It broke my heart hearing how his heart has stab wounds, ice cold stitches, like he could die if he took another blow. Hearing how he feels so lonely and he doesn’t want to stop me from having fun, yet he is scared because he has told me how much he wants to marry me. I just want to hold him and tell him he has me 100%.

This time last year it would have been different. I was having lots of meaningless sex with different people, some I would get a little attached too but mostly I was just using and abusing exactly the way men think they can do to girls. I had learnt from my own broken heart how to show front, not care, not get attached, if a man didn’t call I would just find a different one. Whilst I was in Ibiza last year I had 4 men ‘waiting for me’ in England texting me saying they wanted me when I got home. I had options, this felt good. I didn’t want any of them, not really, not like that. Just good for some attention and maybe some good sex. My friends joked ‘dunno how you keep up’ they would say, nearly messed up a couple of times I tell you but it’s easier for us girls. Anyway despite having one man feeding me with the ‘I want a relationship’ line I was not about to commit to him and I was no way holding back from the fun I could have in Ibiza. Having my heart broken by the first black man I had ever slept with sent me crazy. It changed me. I wondered why I had never had sex with a black man before. I began to find them so incredibly attractive and they seemed to like me too. Sex made me feel powerful, I enjoyed sex and I felt confident doing it. Knowing men was enjoying it gave me something to feel good about and I would literally spot a guy and if I liked what I saw I would make it my challenge to get it. Now I am happy in a relationship I look back and think ‘how did I do this?’ ‘how did I not care at all?’ In reality I did care, the Sunday nights alone, the evenings when the alcohol had wore off and I would stare at my phone just wanting someone to care for me properly. My close friends all shared the same views on sex, often my best friend would text and say ‘we should slow down’, I know she felt low at times too. Too blinded by all the alcohol, partying and random sex that we didn’t face the true reality of just wanting to be loved. Do not get me wrong, I do not regret anything I did. It was fun, we laugh about our sexual encounters alot still now. Men do this all the time and get away with it so why couldn’t we?! But I am much happier being in a relationship. A relationship which is real, where the sex is amazing every time. Where I let him see all of me without feeling shy. No games. No bullshit. A real relationship that has a real future….. after he is released from prison that is.

One of my ‘encounters’ in Ibiza took longer than the others. I mean this in the sense I had met him at the start of the holiday. I originally thought he looked far too pretty and full of himself which turned me off. My friend had a holiday romance with his friend. ‘Mate the fit one by the pool is his mate’ I remember her saying to me in the club, I had other ideas. The brummy one with a gold tooth, tick! He somehow sneaked me into his hotel and we had rough good sex, he didn’t satisfy me sexually but mentally he did. Telling him I wanted him over my face does crazy things to a man… they love it! My work was done. The next day my ‘partner in crime’ had kept hold of her holiday romance and his fit friend stuck around with us too. He wasn’t as big headed and up him self as he originally seemed. The boat party we were making sexual advances at each other throughout the duration, the beer was flowing and I knew he would be next on my list. That night it didn’t happen, the alcohol all wore off by the time we ended our night and the flirtatious advances had stopped. The day after we spent the whole day at the beach before we went to an evening event, whilst getting ready for the evening he invited himself into my shower. I freaked out! Was it the lack of alcohol? The fact his cock looked huge or because I was completely naked. I do not know!! But I did… I turned him down. We walked to the venue with my friends calling me a complete idiot for turning such a fitty down. I was kicking myself too to be fair. They were going home that NIGHT!! When the drinks starting flowing again, so did my confidence. He was no doubt-ably the best looking man there and when a young black female pointed this out to me in the ladies toilets I knew I had to have him. She used the words ‘your man’ .. it turned me on. The pornstar martinis talked for me, ‘I’m having you tonight’ I told him. He was dubious, I had already turned him down after all. I got my way though, we dragged his friend and my two friends back to the hotel an hour before he had to get on the coach. They sat patiently at the bar whilst we went upstairs and did what we had both been waiting to do since we met 2 days previously. The alcohol was in me, the confidence was there and my power came back. He made sure he did what he set out to do, men love a facial. Hearing his words ‘that was amazing’ and the way he looked at me, I knew I had succeeded in what I set out to do. My friend couldn’t believe the state of the room, the bed had moved and we joked about where the deed was done. It was funny, and again something I do not regret in the slightest. The regret would have been if I hadn’t of done it. He went home, and about 2 hours later I had found another victim to be told ‘how great I was.’ I came home and for a while my antics didn’t stop in Ibiza. In fact I had a man lined up the night I got home. It was a never ending cycle.

It wasn’t all harmless though which I will talk about in more detail some other time. It often got to the point where I was sick of all the meaningless sex, sick of not being cared about properly and just sick of idiots half being in my life. I have a close male friend who is doing the exactly the same as what I was doing last year and even he admitted tonight that he wants just that one person to settle down with. It is programmed into our database, we all want love no matter how many times we try and convince ourselves we are ‘happy being single.’ It’s a lie.

I can see why my boyfriend would feel sick and anxious about letting me lose in Ibiza again but I can hand on my heart say he has nothing to worry about. Why would I risk something so great for something that may make me feel ‘ok’ for just a short while? I just wouldn’t. My time of being that person is done.

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