Would You Sleep With Someone You Were Breaking Up With?

WORDS BY KAYE MICHELE

I knew I was going to sleep with him the minute I met him. How I ended up in a relationship with him is a whole other story.

This part of the story, though, starts at the end...

Sitting in front of my computer, editing yet another story and working on yet another aspect of my business plan, my email lit up with a message from my boyfriend. The boyfriend that I hadn’t seen in a week. The boyfriend who, unbeknownst to him, was seconds away from being dumped because something was not right in his and I’s world and I was not invested enough to try to work through whatever it was.

Little did I know how right I was about to be proven.

I opened the email, hoping to see that he had come to his senses and was finally going to explain what in the hell was going on with him. Instead, I read:

“This is his girlfriend that's been messaging you. And thank you for letting me see that this side isn't worth it and I advise you to do the same. I've seen all your guys' messages back and forth and I'm just so devastated. If you would like to talk to me you can/”

I paused.

Looked around.

What the hell did that just say?

I read it again. It still said the same thing. Well, that would explain a whole lot.

It explained his chronic lateness to things we had planned. The late night phone calls that he passed off as his "mother." It explained why I’d never seen even the outside of his house though he’d seen mine quite a few times. Most of all, it explained the long ass hair on his shoulder I came across when I hugged him that he waved off as one of his "co-workers'" who hugged him.

I read it again. Then I started laughing.

Hysterically.

I let a bit of my intuition go these past few months because I was caught up in the idea of him. In the idea of caring about me and wanting to marry me and wanting to be there for my child and wanting to move in with me and just wanting me. I had finally accepted that that was what I wanted for my life and I thought that he was presenting that to me.

His kisses were pretty fire, too.

And maybe that was more of what I was caught on. The way his kisses made me so wet I had to start carrying around wipes every time I was around him. The time walking down 14th Street in the rain and he held me and fingered me to orgasm after orgasm leaning against a Duane Reade window when everyone else thought we were just hugging. Playing pool in the pool hall where the sexual tension was so high even the hipsters across the way saw it—heavy petting in the car that led to leaving my favorite cream lace panties in his pants pocket.

And we hadn’t even slept together at that point.

After reading that email, I didn’t mourn the demise of our relationship…didn’t throw a fit about the blatant level of disrespect his infidelity had shown…all I could think was, “Does this mean we can’t sleep together anymore? This is some bull…” And after I acknowledged that thinking that way couldn’t possibly work for any reconciliation at all, I decided in that moment that I was going to get some mind-blowing, earth-shattering, amazing sex from my boyfriend.

Then, I was going to dump his cheating, no good ass.

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