![]() ![]() Relationships were full of worry and guilt. I wasn’t interested in a relationship with them, you see. ![]() And most of the time, it was better if I didn’t see the men after that one time. ![]() For a few moments, those men gave that to me, and I was grateful.īut gratefulness only goes so far. Sex was an oasis of calm in which I could lose myself in nothing but sensation and pleasure, leave behind guilt and worry and terror and anger and everything I hated about myself. I saw them as a brief respite from my chatty mind. Sometimes men got the wrong idea about what had happened between us. Then they knew where I lived, and I didn’t like that. I’d long since learned that was a bad idea. I didn’t take men back to my place anymore. We were both drunk, so we’d stumbled back to his home on wheels, a huge eighteen-wheeler that he’d had to help me climb up inside. Ralph had picked me up at the bar about a half hour ago. We were in the sleeping berth of a truck parked behind the truck stop off the interstate. I was having sex with a trucker named Ralph. ![]()
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