"Man, Nina, I've been through some shit. Look at these marks on my arm," he said showing me dark brown bruises that were thin and long across his wrist. "My lower back and my ass is fucked up," he continued, "These are from being caned."
I thought two things:
1. My little ole 3 leather belt beatings and a slap across the face are nothing compared to being caned.
2. He is open. He is telling me things. I don't have to pull teeth to hear stories about Nigeria, about his family, about emigrating to America, about his life...he is telling me and trusting that I'm not going to be scared or ignorant or anything.
I was so taken aback and then I realized..."Omg, am I damaged goods?"
He's interested in me and my day and what I do.
"What do you have to do tonight?"
"I'm washing my dog."
"You do the coolest things."
Not really.He calls. He texts. He is NICE.
Do you know how long its been since a guy was genuinely nice to me...and all I keep thinking is how stiff and guarded I am. How I may push him away because I am broken.
After the whole TN fiasco, I built these walls. I know something about walls. My dad showed me how to put up sheet rock against 4 x 4s and how to plaster and sand and that's exactly what I did with my personality. I erected giant 4x4s and fortified them with sheet rock and steel...all because I opeened up to the wrong guy. A guy who made me feel like my personality didn't rock out and that I should just smile and wear something tight and heels that are high. A guy who must've been hurt so deeply his walls were all steel and granite. A guy who just wanted me as a trophy...a guy who wouldn't tell me anything about himself besides business worries and endless parties he wanted me to go to..never anything about his past or future...a guy who dropped hints about how he wanted to change me...with you should go running to lose weight or you should let your hair grow...who chipped at me slowly...a guy who never really showed me affection unless it was to show other guys I was with him (i.e. he catches them checking me out and so he rubs my back and tells them...oh have you met her, she's a model..no really, he did this the last time I saw him) A guy who just wanted sex and food and then discarded all of my feelings.
And now, here's DK.
And I feel like I'm a broken doll who looks cute but as soon as you pick her up, her eye falls out or her head falls off and you see that her hair has been cut uneven and one shoe is missing.
Also...how cool is it that this guy makes me want to be better?
And...its so early (like a week) so I'm trying to keep my head.
P.S. Maybe its my fault - the whole model thing. When FB had a section to write whatever...that little box under your face, I wrote "Lover of Jesus. Leader of the Nerd Revolution. Makeup Artist. Beauty Editor for Magazine. (blah blah blah) Oh yea, I'm a model." The model part was supposed to be a joke because EVERY big girl who is pretty on FB wrote that they were a model. He asked me, "Are you really a model?" I said, "No. I did pose for a few photo shoots but they never really went anywhere. I hate pictures that other people take of me anyway...so, not really." (just to clarify)