Ruined by Scott Hildreth Page B

standing before the opposition, weaponless. I felt weak. I wondered if, for all of these years, I had actually been the person that I was becoming, and it had taken a book of unconventional wisdom to get me to realize it.
    My mother, unlike Marc’s mother in the book, was not a woman to discuss things like love and compassion. I suspect, in retrospect, that my mother was hurt from the loss of my father more than she ever let me know. She too was an only child, as was my father.  Growing up, I always had her, and I never really took the time to think of what she did or did not have as a support system.
    I sat on my weight bench, without protection from harm, and cried. I cried for my mother. I cried because I had lost my father. I cried because I had no siblings. I never got an opportunity to run to a pomegranate tree, rub fruit on my siblings, and get yelled at when I got home. I would, in a sense, now trade anything to have had a father scream at me and call me a dumb fuck. 
    Wiping a lifetime of tears from my eyes, I stood. I stretched. Although I knew that I would always be dominant in a sexual relationship, somewhat manipulative, and very slow to accept others into my life, I stood…open to the thought of loving someone. I stood sensitive to the thought of that person being Kelli.
    Kelli had proven to me that she was everything that I had ever wanted a woman to be. She was willing, able, and so far, had been open-minded enough to consider all that I had exposed her to. I certainly had not exposed her to all that I had intended to, but if her past performance was indicative of what the future held, she would do extremely well.
    Excited for what the future may hold, I went to the shower. I stood in the shower like when I was a teen, letting the water run over me until there was no more hot water left. Just standing and letting the water pelt me into a trance.
    I got out of the shower and dressed, sitting back on the edge of the weight bench. I compared my feelings to the same type of feeling I received after watching a feel-good movie, or a love story like The Notebook . You leave the theatre full of inspiration, and that feeling, in a few days, fades.
    I knew the degree of what I felt would eventually lessen. But how I felt about life, about love, and about the potential of being able to love was real. I have lived a life with walls erected around me and armor protecting my heart. These things, as I read that book, were broken. After reading the book a second time, they had truly crumbled.
    The helpless emotional child on the corner of the weight bench was proof of this. Conscious of my vulnerability, I made a decision to tell Kelli nothing. I would proceed with this relationship and see what she felt, and what she made me feel. If she, in fact, captured my heart, or stole my love, I would allow it. In the interim, we would continue a Dominant/submissive relationship of friendship and sex, she being none the wiser of my epiphany.
    The thought of any form of progress in this relationship excited and scared me both. We fear what we aren’t certain of, and I had no experience with loving, actual relationships, or commitment. The lack of experience gave me no certainty, and that lack of certainty fed my fear.
    My fire of fear fueled with thoughts of Kelli, and her willingness to provide me with whatever I wished of her, I stood from the bench. I had every intent of eventually leaving Kelli when we met. My thoughts, now, of her being in my life caused me discomfort.
    We fear the uncertain. That, if nothing else is, is certain.
    KELLI. Trying to make sense of what my mind went through on a typical weekend would probably make the best of psychologists go insane. I think all girls are probably the same. We get up on Saturday, and even if we have nothing planned for the day, we struggle with what to wear, what to do with our hair, and what to do for shoes. After trying on everything that I had in the closet for about five