We are on the roof of the firehouse. It’s freezing. My hands are shivering holding my can of beer. My jaw is grinding from the lines of coke we did earlier. I’m wearing a huge oversized red jacket that I found by someone else’s gear. We sit on a ledge on the roof. Looking at the stars. He kisses me intensely. My heart flutters. I’m a little warmer. He gives me the eyes that let me know it’s time for me to blow him. My eyes smile back at him because of course I will oblige. I was just waiting for him to give me the okay. I warn him that my hands are cold, he says it will feel good. My head goes up and down and my beer hand goes down and up. His noises let me know I’m doing a good job. He approves. I can feel him tense up in my mouth, so I stop. I tell him “Not there”. He says “Ok, then where?” I give him the eyes this time. We stand up and my hands start to explore him more. Strong arms, muscular neck, big hands, lean back. I try to kiss him but he politely resists. He hates kissing me after I’ve been down on him. He pulls me close and I love the way it feels. I love his hands on my body. The way he smells. The way he tastes. He touches me just long enough so that I melt, but not any longer – he doesn’t have to.

He pulls my pants down and tells me to bend over. I do as I’m told. I’m leaning over the edge of the roof, in the stupid big red jacket. My ass is freezing. He puts it in. It’s amazing. It feels good, and it feels extra good because it’s him. He asks if he can put it in my ass, but doesn’t wait for me to answer. I fight through the initial pain that comes with the surprise. I’m screaming, on my knees, on the roof, in January. He does this thing where he pushes my head down. His hands push my head into the cold rooftop and every thrust makes my ribs pound against the concrete. It hurts, but in a good way. I try to steady myself and he keeps going while he speaks mostly to himself, telling me to “Take it”. When he’s done he lingers for a second, hugging me from behind and then pulls out, stands up and pulls his sweatpants up. I take a minute for my legs to stop shaking, my heart to beat a little slower, and my hands to unfreeze from their white knuckle grip of the ledge. I slowly stand up and pull my black leggings up. I can’t get my footing and almost fall. He catches me. A gentleman. He asks me if I’m ready to go back down. I nod. He brushes my hair out of my face lovingly, and leads the way. I grab my beer and follow, like a good girl.

I put the red jacket back where I found it. He gets his keys from the office. He waits until I finish my beer and we leave. He doesn’t kiss me goodbye. I drive home and run into my bathroom to clean up. The beer in my stomach is sloshing. The coke is still making my jaw tingle and my mind and heart race. I clean his remnants off of me. I feel a smile spread across my face. I catch a glimpse of my body in the mirror, my ribs already bruised and red and irritated. I know it will be worse tomorrow. I can’t bear to look at myself in the mirror. Can’t meet my own eyes. I might be in love with him. Did I mention he has a girlfriend? I text him ‘thank you’. He responds ‘No, thank you.’ I’ll wait, longingly, until he calls for me again in a week or two.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

I self-sabotage

People fall in love with the idea of me, never actually me

I let people fuck me when I don’t want to, just to feel wanted.

I love to read

I am not strong enough to be a firefighter.

Facts.

I am a people pleaser

A drunk guy teaser

A hardworking,

Anything to avoid a conflict

Appeaser.

I am a little bit crazy

Saturday nights hazy

Sunday mornings lazy,

Hit the gym on the daily.

Sometimes I’m really sad

Sometimes I’m somewhat glad

But always, in demand.

Try to tame me – I’ll be damned.

I am a secret keeper

Adventure seeker

A vivid dreamer

Always tellin him to ‘go deeper’

Sometimes I’m a mess

Sometimes I’m careless

Reckless,

Rebellious,

Restless,

Jealous.

All these flaws and imperfections,

I am a work in progress, not perfection.

I always do this.

Push away people,

Push away feelings

Drown them in alcohol and fake smiles.

Tell them not to fall in love with me

I can’t reciprocate. Don’t know how.

I’m just here for the sex,

Let yourself out when we’re done.

It lasts a little while

They always think they can change me

I said I was honest from the start

They said they didn’t believe it.

Eventually either I get bored

Or they do.

When I see them with someone else,

It hurts.

I don’t know why. I encouraged them

See other people, just use protection.

Invite someone else into bed with us

But what I didn’t say

Was that I do have feelings for you

I wouldn’t let you inside me if I didn’t

I say one thing and I guess after hearing it soo many times

They finally believe it.

When I see him with someone else,

It hurts. Physically hurts my heart.

But what can I say?

I told him this is what I wanted.

He doesn’t ask if I’m cool with it

Just assumes it’s okay

Because I told him to.

Even if he did ask, I would say I was fine.

It’s fine.

Back to the beer and the Bourbon,

Back to feeling ‘nothing’ again because

I’m fine. Time to paint the smile back on,

fine.

It felt like it had been a year, at least.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat.

It was hard to be present in everyday conversations,

I tried to feign interest, but it just wasn’t as fulfilling.

I tried to ask (beg) for it a few times,

Rejection hurts – to say the least. Shame.

I was tired of watching videos

And to think of all the wasted batteries.

Every ad I read, program I watched, or song I listened to -

Reminded me of it. The feeling. The thrill. Ugh, I needed it bad.

I longed for it. In any form. Any body.

Touch. Messy. Wet. Rough. Hard. Fast. Deep.

Would I ever feel it again?

Satisfied?

Wanted?

Alive?

Full?

In reality it had probably only been a week, two tops.

I longed for it though. Craved it. I drunk texted.

Called people I knew I shouldn’t.

Does the hunger make me a bad person?

I am so frusturated,

Wet and unsatisfied,

Thirsty and unquenched,

Longing for the explosion.

Something to lose? I had everything to lose. It was my first day of training. I had been there before, to watch, to stand shyly in the corner. I had watched those men gear up, mask up, and grab their tools. I saw them cut up cars, and go in smoke filled rooms without hesitation. I saw their muscles bulge under their sweat stained shirts, and I wondered if I would be able to do it too. I had been watching them for months. Observing quietly while they avoided my gaze. I could tell that I was not wanted. How dare a woman even think to step foot into their territory. They didn’t think I would be able to do it, it was comical to them that I would even want to try. Why did I want to try?

It was a Tuesday. The day I had been waiting for, the day I would get to prove that I could be there and keep up and eventually take the lead. I put on my gear. I stepped into my boots, hands shaking. I pulled up my suspenders, goosebumps. I tugged on my hood, sweaty palms. Next was my jacket, each button took forever. Then my helmet and lastly the gloves.

One of the older men took me into a corner of the room. He had a pack with him. He showed me how to properly put it on and off. I practiced a few times. I could feel eyes on me, but I tried to concentrate on my task at hand. Next the man showed me how to mask up and breathe on air. I practiced it a few times. I was listening to the others around me. The female medics watched me cautiously. Would I be competition to them? Would I give up and join them instead? What was I trying to prove? The men watched me hoping for failure, an ounce of cowardice, or a sign I would give in.

They had been dragging dummies across the floor. They would tie up the victim, and then drag them as fast as they could fully geared, on air, staying low, blacked out. I was finally up next. I was terrified. Not of what the task was, but terrified of failing in front of everyone. My heart was beating so fast. I was sweating profusely. I took a deep breath and tried to calm the thoughts in my head. I had to do this right now. Had to. No question about it. I heard them talking “Make her freaking do this. She wants in, she has to do it just like we do,” I had everything to lose. My dignity, my potential to be respected. If I failed they would never take me seriously. Would I be able to face them again? Would this be my first and last time on air? I had to do this. Had to.

HAD TO.

They gave me some webbing and told me to tie up the victim. My hands were shaking so much, but I got it around the torso. I went to pull and got nothing. The dummy didn’t even flinch. It looked so easy when they did it. I was getting so angry at myself. Literally the whole room was watching me. And talking and pointing. And then someone said “I told you man, she can’t do it.” That was the last straw. That was all I needed to hear.

I took the webbing and wrapped it around myself. I started to crawl on all fours, and surprisingly I kept going. The dummy was dragging behind me! I was doing it! I dragged the victim to the opposite side of the firehouse. I had a huge cool-aid smile on my face. I was still shaking, but now more from adrenaline than fear. I had done it. I slowly got up, and one of them came over to help me with my mask. I took off the pack and my jacket and someone gave me water. I wanted to sit down so bad, but I wouldn’t dare. “You’re not supposed to be able to do that, you’re a little girl”, “Holy S**T”, “Hey you know if you ever need anything let me know, I’d be happy to help you out” “Good Job”. It was the best feeling in my world, up until that point in my life.

So what’s it like having sixty total strangers routing for you to fail? It sucks. It hurts. It made me question whether or not I was physically and mentally capable of succeeding. I could have lost myself that day. I put it all on the line, and proved everyone wrong, including myself, I’m disappointed to say.

I still have to prove myself, every day. That probably will never change. I accept that and I know I am up for it. Looking back, I think I did lose myself that day after all. I became a new version of myself. Stronger, more confident, respected, feared, a sister. I had everything to lose. I am so glad that I tried, and won.

I love you when you tie me up

When you bend me over

How you touch my hips

How you pull me into you

I love you when I'm on my knees

On the hardwood floor

So I can look up at you,

While I do the job I don’t get paid for

I love you when you are mean to me

Inflict some tender pain

Handcuffs and whips and your finger tips

Pull my hair harder, make me beg,

Make me scream, go insane.

It’s okay, you don’t have to love me

Just punish me, please

Like the bad girl that I am

No need for words, no need for kisses

So you take control, and I’ll be submissive.

I had been driving my truck for so many days, I had lost count. The only reason I still had feeling in my legs was because of the sciatica I could feel traveling up towards my back; the pain was unreal. The smell in my small Ford was growing more and more pungent due to the water bottle filled with pee that I kept in the cup holder, and the fact that I hadn’t showered properly in God knows how long.

It’s not that I don’t notice

That the laundry is always done

My uniform is always clean

I always have dry towels

It’s not that I don’t notice

The extra food you make for me

The way you share a delivery

How you always leave room in the freezer

It’s not that I don’t notice

The cute notes you leave around the house

The leaves you raked

The garbage you gathered

It’s not that I don’t notice

All the small things you do

That make such a big difference to me.

So I wanted to say thank you,

For all the things you didn’t know

That I notice.