Something really weird happened today. I found out my boyfriend’s been seeing other women. I found messages on his phone, photos, everything. And the craziest thing is, instead of wanting to punch him in the face, I got turned on. Yeah, I know, it sounds like I’m crazy.
But I couldn’t help it. I came home, locked myself in my room, and started thinking about everything. About him with that girl from the gym, at the office, who knows where else. And I imagined the details: his hands on another girl’s ass, his mouth on another girl’s neck, the moans that weren’t mine. The more explicit I imagined it, the more I burned.
I touched myself thinking about it. About him sweating on top of someone else, about what he was doing to her, about what she was letting him do. It was like, in the end, all that betrayal had turned into pure fire for me. I ended up trembling, breathless, and with this really strange feeling of emptiness and power at the same time.
I don’t know what this says about me. But it’s the truth.
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