Steve

was a screw up.

He never went to college. Lied about going into the miliary. Lied about moving to three different states. Barley graduated. Almost made it to state in wrestling his junior year, but missed the last one and since then tried to lose more and more weight to go back again. In a sense he was stuck at this age in high school. So he liked to visit. A lot.

Seeing him would cause me to shake. I would feel something in the pit of my stomache that made me want to puke.

He joked around once with slapping my face. It was light. It was nothing, but it was enough to send me over the edge. I remember pushing him back and getting mad, but it only lasted an instant because he had his hands clenched on my wrists. I couldn’t move, I could back away because he was stronger than me. He proved it. I remember for a breif second I was scared. Shitless. He owned me and it all registered. But he was smooth talking, he soothed his voice and reassured me it was all a joke “I wouldn’t do that” I believed him, but I always knew. He had the power. Always.

It’s odd that I associate smaller men with losing control, but the bigger men– the ones I probably couldn’t hold myself against that I feel the most comfortable with. Because it’s the comfort in their arms not the squirley power of Steve.

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1 Comment

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One response to “Steve

  1. I can understand the comfort you may find in bigger guys. A bigger guy who doesn’t try to prove to you that he’s stronger is already such a change from Steve that it must be comforting.
    Steve was also a creep, besides being a screw-up. I freak out when people try to exert their power over me – it makes me panic.

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