It Felt Like A Job

   It felt like a fucking job.

   The first time I had sex I was trashed and I don't know how "with it" I was. I had drank WAY too much that night and I was so drunk I was stumbling around. And it hurt but I was drunk so the pain didn't matter too much. I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to feel his love. I know what you're thinking though. Sex doesn't mean you love each other. I know that. I just thought that maybe if I gave in like he wanted me to, he would like me more, ya know? Pretty sure it didn't make him like me any more.

   But yeah, so I did it with him. And then I just felt like after I'd done it with him once, I had to keep doing it. I know I didn't have to and I could have told him no, but the truth is, I didn't want to tell him no because I just wanted to feel his touch, his kisses. And I thought it would be unfair of me to do it once and then tell him no after that.

   So I kept putting out. It didn't make him love me. It didn't make him like me any more than he did before. It didn't change anything really. And it felt like something I had to do so it wasn't even fun. It felt like a job. It felt like a fucking job.