He asked me to leave the room so he could shoot up.

It was the second day I saw you. As I had just seen you in person for the first time yesterday But you still asked me to come back the next day. I was wearing a pink floral Michael Kors dress that hugged my curves and flared out at the waist. I did pick this dress out carefully unlike the first time I saw you. Although you did ask me the day before “How long did it take you to pick out that dress”. I said “I was already wearing it when I decided to come”. I then smiled shyly and told him how it was my favorite dress and I would have worn it either way. I guess that was your way of telling me it looked good on me. Which felt sweet at the time, until it became a consistent thing. He would never just come out and say “You look beautiful”. It was always “check you out” and possibly a cheesy lyric. I wore my hair in a bun almost that whole summer. Not just because I had an awful hair cut that I was anxiously awaiting to grow out. But also because I knew you liked the hair in a bun and hoop earrings look. I tried to be beautiful enough. That’s all I wanted was to be beautiful enough for you. So vividly in my head in deep rich colors, I see your silhouette emerging from your apartment stairs. Your blonde hair was neatly parted and gelled to the side. Your hair is such a beautiful shade of blonde. A few shades away from being considered light brown. But theres this golden tint to it that keeps it in the blonde family. In the summer it becomes lighter and almost looks like it is gold. Pure and rich. Dazzles when the light hits it. You were wearing a basketball jersey. And I won’t even tell a lie, I do not remember which NBA’s player jersey it was. If I had to guess probably Carmello Anthony. The thing I remember most is the tattoo on your upper right arm. I remember you saying you placed it there due to your former career in finance. One of the things I find the most sexy about you. I question if you wore that jersey on purpose, did you want me to see your tattoo? It’s in black ink and some sort of snake mixed with a tribal tattoo. The black ink illuminates through your skin because then tan doesn't start until a few inches from where your T-shirt sleeve would fall. The jersey is matched with these blue shorts that I’ve seen you wear in photos before. I didn’t care much for them. Or really the jersey in that matter. I just loved the way they hung onto your body. As you walked down the stairs I look lustrously at your long slender body slowly arrive at the drivers side door (because you always drove) and you got in. The immediate smell of cinnamon mixed with musk filled my nose. And drove my body into a craze. I took one look at you and gulped. I was like a cartoon animal with her eyes bulging out of her head and her jaw on the floor. I strongly remember looking into your eyes and seeing that you were still there, you were still the same person. The day before I thought you looked completely different. But as I stared at you I saw you there for the first time. I looked into the ever so slanted but wide ice blue leonrado Dicaprio eyes that made me lust after you for so long. Your eyes are so wide and clear, clean, blue. And when your big icy blue eyes look at me all sad I feel like I could melt. You make me soft. And nobody else does. You have this very adorable yet sexy look to you. It drives me wild. I didn’t want to be obvious or too straight forward. So I said “your hair looks nice today”. My female body parts were beating like they were running a marathon in the New York city heat. He looks at me and says “Thanks I used my shampoo as hair gel”. I was trying to control myself and block at the screeching voice that was towering it self in my head “I WANT TO F*** YOU, SO BADLY RIGHT NOW” and trying to be subtle and relaxed. We go into your apartment and I ask you to help me carry in all the pounds of food I brought you. At the time you were unemployed and in active addiction. I just wanted to make sure you were fed. There were chocolate nut bars from Costco, yogurt, the small baby bell cheeses that are wrapped in wax along with some other things I can’t remember at the moment. The prize possession that I brought that night was the Italian chicken cutlets I made. You started eating them and said “You really made these?”. I told you yes and you asked me to make them again next time I saw you. And of course I did. Believe it or not I haven’t cooked one thing since he left me later that fall. I couldn’t bring myself to make anything because all the things I would make for myself are all the things I would make for him. Just another painful memory I tried to erase. I asked you were your bathroom was and you pointed to the door. I went into the bathroom. I remember this bathroom so distinctly. It smelled of wet towels that had been sitting too long. And on top of that the door doesn't close. He said it was because of the heat. But maybe it’s because I have been used to living in large 5 bedroom, 5 bath colonial with an in ground pool and a clay tennis court. I do my business quickly and as quietly as I possibly could. Thank god it was just pee. Imagine the horror if I suddenly had to s**** and the door doesn't close. I walk out of the bathroom with the thought in my head that I’m being cutesy. Until I glance down at my hip and see my dress was stuck in my UNDERWEAR. I quickly remove it and still to this day I question if you noticed. But knowing who you are now there was no way in hell you would’ve said anything or even came up to me and fixed my dress. It bothers me that he’s a sexual deviant and sleeps with random women he doesn't know in McDonalds bathrooms but he never tried to sleep with me. His excuse was that he was “sick”. But he’s been sick for years, he's a heron addict. He f*** many different girls after we broke up multiple times while he was “sick”. I try not think when we fell in love and how he’s slept with so many different women and not with me in that time frame. It makes me so emotionally ill I feel like I could puke. The real truth is, that I was the only one who was in love. I haven't slept with anybody since the moment I fell in love with him. It’s been two years. I say to you “Isn’t it crazy we are here right now, together in person. It feels weird doesn’t it?” And he says “What do you mean Tracy, Are you saying you don’t like me anymore”. And truthfully he was half joking but also half honest. I should’ve never told you I wasn’t attracted to you the night before when you texted to make sure I got home safely. You put your new treats in a ceramic bowl and ask if I want anything. Funny thing to that is, it’s the first time you’ve ever offered me anything and it’s something I paid for. We go into your bedroom and sit on the bed. There’s a moth buzzing around your room. You're trying to trap it and make it fly out the window. You see the moth flying towards the light bulb in the ceiling. You then ask me the dumbest and only dumb question you’ve ever asked me “Are moths attracted to light”. Mr. Know at all didn't know one of the most well known things about certain flying insects. I was slightly turned off by your stupidity but I answered “Uhh yes, did you really just ask me that question?”. However the light theory was not helping you to kill the mouth so you picked up this huge STYRO foam shaped tube to try and annihilate the moth. However instead of killing the moth you wack me over the head and laugh. I say “Hey!” and touch my head daintily with a cute sour puss on my face. You grasp the firm tube and angrily wack at the moth. Finally the deed is done. You sit on the bed and eat your food. We are sitting and talking and the whole time I’m wishing he’d try to snuggle me. But we just continue sitting up right inches away from each other. For two people that love sunggling, we never got to full on snuggle. Just one of the top ten things on my list that I never got to do with the person I loved. The list that constantly eats away at me. Snuggling, check. Make love, check. He always needed to cop loosies off of people because he needed to save all his money to buy heroin. My light pink Tory Burch slides are at the side of his bed. He promptly walks over to them and comedically says “Do you think I can fit into your shoes as he attempts to try them on”. I laughed and and said “No way your a foot taller than me”. Which it’s actually ten inches but close enough. We are walking down his block and stop at the light to turn towards the bodega I took shelter in from the rain the first time I was here. Two men are walking by us and he meanders his way over and politely asks if he can bum a cigarette. The man says yes. He was an average build man, brown hair on the shorter side. I decided to show off my sales skills a little and ask the man for a cigarette too. Of course he said no. Why would he give two people who seem to be boyfriend and girlfriend a cigarette. And I used some easy sales line along the lines of “Come on, it’s one less cigarette. All you’ll have tonight is one cigarette less. And that should be nothing for a guy like you.” He then obviously says ok and gives me the cigarette. I turned to you and hand you the cigarette pridefully. He says “I don’t understand, don't you want this cigarette?”". I told him of course not, I don't smoke. I was getting it for you and I knew he wasn't going to be able to say no to me. You seemed amused and I hoped more attracted to me. Men tend be attracted to my aggressive nature. We cross the street and walk back to your apartment. You sit on the steeps as you light your cigarette. I start talking about Long Island and how one day I’d like to buy my own house there. You exclaim that you hate Long Island and would’t want to live there. And I smirk smugly and say “What do you think is going to happen?” And he knew I meant that I was certain we’d be together and obviously he’d have to move to Long Island because thats were my real estate business is. He just smiled widely and didn't say anything. We start talking about people who are married for long periods of time. I believe it started with talking about his Dad. He makes a comment about marriage and says “Well people who are married for thirty plus years, one of them usually ends up cheating”. I said “So you would cheat on your wife?.” He try’s to back track and say no. And this was just another red flag I decided to miss. I’m probably one of the most loyal people to ever exist. And he’s cheated on me in so many different ways. I was too blind by my emotions to realize that he had been telling me all along that he’s a cheater. It's a apart of who he is. We go inside and sit back on the bed. We talk some more and what I believe to be the saddest part of our relationship happens. You then with no hesitation at all say “Can you go into the bathroom so I can shoot up”. I ask him are you crazy? I couldn’t believe this request. However it was only the second day and I hand’t even realized I loved him yet. But I knew I cared for him deeply. His dad is the only other person in his life that loves him either than me. And to be honest I know I love him more than his dad ever will because his dad told me he wishes him dead. So I say “Would you ask your dad to do that?”. He says of course not. But I was wishing for him to see the correlation and understand that I care about him just as much as his father. He pouts his lip into a slight frown and widens his big blue eyes and makes them all morose and says please in a child like voice. I’m very certain it's the cutest face I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Babies aren't even that cute. Unfortunately for me I couldn't say no to the face. And the part that comes next will forever haunt me. I can’t stop beating myself up for it. I become washed over with humiliation and guilt. I say fine. I get up and I say my back hurts. I question if I heard him correctly to this. But I thought the words that came out of his mouth were “I’ll give you a massage, don’t worry”. I heard the words and thought about them a lot even 2 years later. And I tell myself theres no way he said that. Because after that night he never made one sexual advance to me other then the very one time we kissed. I dreadfully walk into the bathroom. I remember this moment like it was yesterday. I remember not crying. I remember not feeling guilty. I remember sitting in the bathroom and letting him inject himself with lethal drugs as I did nothing. Everyday of my life I want to time travel to that Tracy and yell “What are you doing?!”. Why did I ever agree to go into that bathroom. I left the bathroom. Not because I felt guilty. Or because I wanted to stop him and throw his heroin down the toilet. But because I just didn't feel like waiting anymore. A shameful feeling I will never let myself live down. I open the door but he wasn’t done shooting up and he says “Fuck, I missed my vein.” It’s time for me to go home at this point, so he walks me to my car. He starts complaining that he missed his vein. And I say some sort of facetious remark along the lines of yeah, I’m supposed to fell sorry for you? He nudges me on the shoulder and calls me a jerk. I nudge him back. We arrive at my car when he says “Wouldn’t it be funny if I made you find your car on your own and told you goodnight and locked my door”. And I giggled and said “No that would not be funny”. I lean in and wrap my arms around him. He in return wraps his arms around me. I hold him tightly, so tight that we are rocking back and forth. Because of our height difference when we hug my head fits perfectly right in his chest. And no feeling in the world can compare to how safe and warm I felt nuzzling my head into chest, just above his rib cage and inches below his neck. It was the most perfect spot for my head to fit. It felt like our bodies were made for each other. As if when we hugged we fit together like two puzzle pieces. Hugging him was my favorite part of our time together. The feeling of just pure bliss and safety. He would pull me in and I’d squeeze him tight and lay my head right in the same spot every time like memory foam and I wish those hugs could’ve lasted more than a few minutes. I always wanted to hug him and he always teased me for it. Tears started running down my check as I wrote this part of the story because I would honestly give anything to hug him again. To lay my head to rest of the part of the puzzle that it fits in to the point of perfection. We rock back and forth until you almost lose your balance. And you say “I’m going to fall”. But I tell you I don’t want you to let go. I really didn’t. But he carefully let go and kisses me on top of my head for the first time. He tell ’s me to drive safely and text him when I get home. Something he always made sure to say after he kissed me goodbye. 2 years later I’m rewriting all these memories. I realized I loved him too much in a way he would never appreciate. He stopped texting me good morning and calling me on the phone and calling me Tray once he started seeing how much I loved him. He then started ghosting me again and purposely ignoring all my texts. It didn't matter to him that ghosting me is what caused so many fights or made me cry myself to sleep, that it's the worst thing you could do to me because of my BPD (fear of abandoment). It triggers me in a way that he never cared to understand or even considered to. The only thing that ever mattered to him was that he could do and say anything to me and he thought I would never leave him. A sarcastic remark he'd always make that I could never walk away. Which in a greater sense meant that I loved him so much that it was so hard to leave even though my mental health was suffering. A feeling he never appreciated from me. The more he knew I loved him the more he hurt me. I now know he would’ve never left if I would’ve loved him less.