In The Middle

[satindesire]

Journalistic based Rp.

You know the rules.

Modern Day. No Fantasy/Sci Fi. Keep it logical or don't post.



**********************Daria Calhoon

June 25th, 2001

It had been three days since the divorce papers were signed. You brought over a box of DVDs and we sat at the kitchen table over cold cups of untouched coffee feeling the sudden weight of finality like a familiar but loathed friend.

You suggested we go to bed one last time. At least the sex was never bad. As unfrequent as it was.

Just...everything else was bad. Everything.

So even though what I needed most was just you to hold me for a little while, you got up and washed, and through the open bathroom door I saw your cotton-clad feet pause in front of the sink. And through the running water I heard you choke back tears.

You left.

And it was the last time I spoke to you.

I miss you now. It seemed that the more time passes, the more I can forget the lies, the other women. And I look at myself in the mirror and get older and older and the women I see you with just get younger, and wonder why you and I ever decided to get married anyway. I was the only one that loved in that relationship.

The bickering about stupid shit. The bickering about money. The bickering about sex. The bickering about bickering.

So many times after the prodecures when I would come home in stitches from my facelifts, or my boob jobs, or my botox, and I would think..."Now he'll love me." And you would be there in bed with that goth whore of yours, up to your eyeballs in coke, and she would be sheepishly pulling on her torn stockings while the nurse wheeled me in.

I hated you because I loved you. And through that I stayed. I stayed through the drugs burning holes in your stocks and draining my dad's trust fund...the one that was supposed to send our kids to college. And through the binge drinking when you would come home drunk as fuck and call me fat...sending me into a depressing spiral of crash dieting.

And when I was down to 106 pounds you would look at me in disgust, because what man wants to touch 'those plastic things' that were the only remnants of womanhood left on my body?

And I hated you because I hated myself. And...fat ugly old women who are obsessed with sex don't deserve love. So I resigned myself to that destiny...even though men would come up to me nearly everyday and ask for my phone number. And in the shops women would say "How did you get your thighs so -tiny-?" None of those things mattered to you, fat or thin, plastic or not, I was getting old. And you didn't want to have sex with me anymore.

I guess it was the day that you brought my DVDs back that I realized that it was your problem. The kiddy porn that I found on your comptuer wasn't my doing....it was yours. And blaming myself for your problems couldn't bring anything but this...ugly spiral of self hate.

I wasn't 16.

Why?

I don't know. You aged too. You wanted young women. And I wasn't anymore.

I wanted a man that loved me. And you could never give me that.

It was for the best. I know.

But a part of me still hates you.

************************************

June 29th, 2001

I went shopping today. It was so hot out that I was wishing for a lighter foundation...through winter I wore the MAC but I had been so stressed with the move I hadn't bought anything more sheer.

I ended up spending something around a thousand dollars on makeup.

What the hell was wrong with me?

My money wasn't liquid right now, my stock broker was screaming at me daily over the phone, and my manager has already let me know that I'm too old to do anymore pictures.

I'm so lonely. I just wish I could get laid, have a drink, have a cigarette, eat something sugarary and fattening like a dozen chocolate chip cookies. I wish someone was near so I could feel warm skin again.

I want to feel desired. Britney Spears generation is the next new thing, so that's out. I may pass for 29 in my boot cut hiphugger jeans but once I turn 41, I'll be too old to wear those things. And it'll be granny panties from then on out, right? One more month and I'll be 41. I don't know wether to kill myself or just buy a gallon of ice cream and celebrate... or curl up into a bottle of chianti and cry.

Maybe I need more botox.

**************************

 

[AllSexedUpMike]

Daria Calhoon - The night it changed

September 2, 2001

Months went by. It seemed like years. Each day passed and I wondered what you were doing. Who you were with.

I kept hearing that voice in my head say, "we should have married". What would that be like now? Better? Worse? Boring? Exciting? I guess I'm just feeling a bit lonely and older. And needier.

I want to hear some one say, "God, you're fuckin' hot!" or "I love your ass".

But in this day and age, with AIDS and Herpes I get frightened a bit. Not so frightened that I don't go out and get a bit of attention once and awhile. But I don't get the KIND of attention that I want and need. All of the other younger women get it. I get the leftovers.

---------------

October 17, 2001

Last night I went to Michael Angelo's Bar. I was drinking my favorite drink and he came up to me and said Hi. It wasn’t an original opening. In fact, he was one of a dozen in the night to come over. I don't know why I thought he was different. It was something in his eyes. Dark-blue swirls of intense kindness.

We chit chatted fro about twenty minutes about nothing and I listened to him talk about himself a bit and then he told me how beautiful I was and I nodded 'cause I've heard it a million times. But he continued. He told me how the flecks of yellow stand out so perfectly, so mesmerizing in my eyes. He touched my arm and said the texture of my skin was like nothing he has touched before. Then he asked it. He actually said it.

"What's your major"?

WHAT'S YOUR MAJOR?? My God! How old did he think I was? I stammered in shock and blushed and I told him sociology. I had to hear more... learn more about him...

I expanded my white lie, "You know sociology is the study of human behavior and how they interact. Like last semester we studied opposite sex interactions."

"Oh really?” He queried?

"Yes, would you like to hear more at my place?" I couldn't believe that it actually came out of my mouth.

He smiled grabbed my keys and we left.

The five-block walk home was brisk. There was a crisp chill in the air like some many October nights have. But I was warm. I was walking faster so we would get home faster. I needed more.

I opened the door, we walked in and I closed the door behind us leaning up against it. He was looking around the living room and I was checking out his absolutely beautiful Levis outlining his tight, near perfect ass.

I took my coat off and fumbled with the keys and dropped them. I bent over to pick them up and I heard him say in a very light breathy tone, "I LOVE her ass." He coughed to cover up his misstep.

I found him.
He's mine.

And the night continued...