Imperfect

T W E N T Y - T W O - A B I G A L E M U L L I N S

I watched as Clarence jogged his naked body up my stairs, leaving me half naked downstairs on the couch.

I felt unpleased. The sex was decent—really good, but I didn't feel that he really connect with me like I used to feel when we were younger.

To me, it felt like it was just sex for him, not anything starry-eyed, just unadorned—plain ole sex that everybody had on a regular, daily basis.

Clarence didn't even tell me that he loved me when he was all up inside of me, doing his business.

  Did he do this purposely? Did he come over because he knew that I was going to let him have sex with me—easily?

Lawrence wasn't like that. He was respectful of my body, he was respectful of me—I missed him so much.

Sitting back straight on the couch, I grabbed my sweatpants from the floor, struggling to put them back on.

I got up from the couch, holding my back as it began to hurt like hell.

Taking one step at a time, going upstairs, I took a deep breath as I was quickly losing it after every step I was taking, as I got higher and higher.

Finally making it to the top step, I scurried my way into the sweltering, hot bathroom where the shower was running.

I couldn't see Clarence at all, the shower curtains was covering his entire body.

"Can we talk for a moment?" I asked at the top of my lungs so that he could hear me very clearly.

"Yeah," he said as he continued to rinse himself, "what is it?"

I leaned on the wet slide of a wall—wetting my shirt, one hand holding my sensitive back while my other hand was rubbing little Amara.

"Do you love me?" I asked him, giving my hopes up on finding love again.

"Of course I do," he said—me seeing the visible silhouette of him washing his hair, "why wouldn't I love you, Abby?"

Looking upset, not thinking that he really cared about me or my feelings, my tears reappeared—slowly swimming its legs down my cheeks to my chin.

"Why didn't you tell me that you loved me when we both were making love?" I asked him, petrified to know his actual truth, even if he would just lie to me straight in my face.

"Because it was just sex," Clarence truthfully told me, "it didn't mean anything to me—it was just plain sex to me. I love you, but it wasn't love making. We can make love, but it will have to be on my time. When I want sex, I have sex—but when I want love, I will make love."

Although he was ingenuously—bluntly honest to me, I got what he was trying to say to me. There were some occurrences where all I wanted was JUST SEX, NO LOVE MAKING...

I wasn't mad at him; I understood what he was saying.

  The conversation made me feel a little better than how I was before the conversation.