The Last One

A ritual took place one crisp September morning in 2004. Willow sat atop a man whose name she couldn't remember. He was handsome. He said all the right things. She went deep within herself to pull out the woman with morals and values and came up with a scared little girl who needed attention from her father and got men who enjoyed taunting women with low self-esteem.

Willow was no fool. She understood what she was doing. Self-loathing. Self-doubt. Self-sabotage. She wore them like badges of dishonor. As he moaned with excitement, she faked bliss. Willow's eyes - deep, brown pools of lost identity and misplaced trust. Legs wide open. Eyes blind to a truth as clear as new glass. She moaned, but her ecstasy and love remained dormant.

This ritual of promiscuity pulled her down into the abyss of the darkest places within her heart. As she walked the blue skies, fluffy white clouds, and heavens fade away with every inch she dropped, he exploded inside of her. She prayed there would be no baby as a result of this insanity.

He wanted to cuddle and she wanted to vomit. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?" He inquired as if he really cared about her.

Willow's eyes widened with delight, which instantly squinted into suspicion. "I'm all right. Um...look, I have to get ready for work soon," she said.

"Okay, well, I'll be just a minute. Do you mind if I use your shower?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Sure, but could you make it quick?" She knew this was all a game. In truth - the man was married. He claimed they were broke up, getting a divorce, etc. But she knew better. Something clicked that morning inside and she knew he wasn't going to get a divorce no more than she was getting married that afternoon.

"I can't turn a man into the perfect partner. I miss Chloe. Why can't I be with someone like Chloe again?" Willow's thoughts pursued this notion for a few moments while the nameless lover sang Al Green's Love and Happiness in the shower. "Please hurry up and leave!"

After he left, Willow sat down on her white wicker sofa. She decided to have a talk with God. Tears began to fall immediately as she spoke aloud.

"God, I need to talk to you. I'm sure you know that already. Why do I keep doing this to myself? I don't love any of these people I've been having sex with lately. I haven't truly loved anyone since Chloe. But, that was back in 1998. This is 2004. I'm ready to move forward...I think. I don't know what I want anymore. All I know is that I want to stop having casual sex. I don't want to have any physical relations with anyone else until I can get myself together emotionally and mentally, so I can make sure I'm coming from the right place...and attract someone who is coming from the right place too. I'm tired of this crap, God. But I can't blame anybody else for this situation. I did this to myself. You don't even have to tell me. I know. I know. Well, now I'm deciding to do something different. No more sex for me until I can get it together. Walk with me, Lord! Amen!"