The Infamous Meesh

Fucking Meesh.
I swear if I never hear that name again I will die a happy woman.

The infamous Meesh who pissed on P that first night to show me that P was hers. Who with her blatant, overt body language told me “Go home straight girl. You can’t play this game as well as I do.”

The infamous Meesh whose relationship according to P, was purely sexual and so the images of them together swim in the backwaters of my mind whenever P says her name. I hate hearing that name on lips that kiss mine so sweetly. It’s a betrayal to my heart.

The infamous Meesh and P. Black skin against pale white, black hands on milky breasts, brown lips on pink mouth, her tongue slipping into places mine has never been. And her intimate, knowing laughter still echos in my minds ear, taunting me. Splintering my confidence and sending it into a million different directions like a pinball game way out of control. No matter how far I have come, the mere mention of her name can take me right back to the moment when I was stripped of my rose colored glasses.

So, P went to see her the other day. After almost a year and a half. And I was mess. Unfuckingbelievable! Tried to hold it together and for the most part I did pretty well considering how much the idea of this woman sets me off to the extent that I am no longer accountable for my reactions. She went to see her and I am the reason why she did. In part.

She blamed me for their relationship/friendship ending. Not in a sad way, not in a whiny way but in a sacrificial way. And that can be the worst way to lay blame on someone. Nothing jolts the guilt quite like “See, look what I’ve given up for you” does. She said it was my jealousy and the way that I reacted whenever Meesh’s name was mentioned that was the deciding factor. I never once told her that she couldn’t or shouldn’t see Meesh once we started dating, but she knew how crazy the idea of her spending time with that woman made me. And how could it not?

Whenever she wanted to get a reaction out of me she would bring up Meesh. Whenever she wanted to make me jealous she would bring up Meesh. Whenever she felt she wasn’t in control of the situation between her and I and Mike, she would bring up Meesh and watch me react. She even admitted to liking the fact that I got insanely jealous so she did it a lot. She liked seeing me get angry and react. To her it showed that I cared. To me it was a dangerous game that could have ended very badly.

One day I put an end to it. I told her to stop doing it. That it not only made me insecure but that it hurt me. And she did. Shortly afterward she stopped seeing the infamous Meesh altogether. I didn’t ask her to, she just did. I think she no longer needed her once I came on the scene. I don’t think she was actually being fulfilled by the relationship in any way other then sexually, although there’s that mother thing which, as I said earlier, I don’t get.

So one day, for the hundredth time, she mentioned to me that she ended her relationship/friendship with the infamous Meesh because of me. She was telling me this in her argument regarding my relationship with Mike, my now estranged husband or ‘ex’ as she prefers to call him. Her argument being of course that I should lessen my relationship with him because she gave up her relationship with the infamous Meesh. An unhealthy, unfulfilling, emotionally detached, one year relationship I might add, but a relationship all the same. Not that you can compare that to a 16 year relationship which includes a one year marriage and the raising of a 19 year old daughter, but let’s not split hairs.

Finally, and at the end of my patience with this accusation I told her that if she wanted to have a relationship with the infamous Meesh; that if it were that important to her, then perhaps she should call her and see if they could reconnect.

What the fuck was I thinking?!!!

So, she did. And then she went to see her. Two days ago. And I was insane with insecurity. Not so much jealousy which is interesting. But my insecurity skyrocketed. I started ‘what if-ing” myself to death. What if she still found her attractive? What if the infamous Meesh still wanted her sexually? What if my limited skills are nothing compared to hers and P realizes that I can’t satisfy her the way she could? What if…what if…what if. Fuck.

I felt myself curling up inside my womb. The past year and a half slipped into rewind and the voices were warring with each other again. I really wasn’t sure who was going to win. And when I saw her after the visit, I felt awkward and unsure. I hate feeling awkward and unsure. It does terrible things to my psyche. I couldn’t look at her for fear of seeing something different in her eyes. I didn’t ask her about the visit because I didn’t want to know how well it went. But P volunteered the information anyway. Seemed almost anxious to tell me what had transpired and when she began to tell me, inside my mind I was screaming: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

And then she told me what happened…

Apparently, P saw Meesh for the drug dealing, welfare case that she is. She said that Meesh lived in a bubble and that she had gone pretty much as far as she was ever going to go in life. In short, it seemed they had nothing in common anymore. I wanted to ask her if she still felt any desire for her sexually, but wasn’t really prepared for what the answer might be. P can be brutally honest and while I respect that and wouldn’t have it any other way, sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow.

It’s funny how even though she was trying desperately to tell me that I had nothing to worry about, that she had felt nothing for this woman and was even questioning what she had ever seen in her, I could not uncurl from the fetal position. It didn’t matter that I should have been over the moon with gratitude that this woman no longer posed a threat. That the infamous Meesh had been reduced to a loser. None of it mattered. What really mattered was that I couldn’t stop thinking ‘what if?’ What if there had been chemistry between them? What if P was lying to me? Then I wondered what they had done in their time together. Did they reminisce about old times, about the sex they had? Did they laugh about their intimacy? Did Meesh ask her how I was in bed? And did P tell her? And if she did, what did she tell her?

Man. The mind can be influenced so easily and insecurity is such a mindfuck.

We were having dinner in Greektown when she was telling me about her visit with the now not so infamous Meesh and afterward we went back to my place. I wanted to be close to her because I needed her reassurance but I was still so curled up inside I had no idea how to relax around her. I wanted her to touch me and didn’t want her to at the same time. Did she touch Meesh? Did Meesh touch her? Did they kiss or embrace when they met up and if so, was the embrace familiar and missed? My mind was breeding insecurity upon insecurity and I couldn’t seem to stop it no matter how hard I tried. I heard her words of reassurance and I acknowledged them, but somewhere deep inside of me I know I will always wonder about the infamous Meesh’s sexual prowess and question if she pleased P better than I will ever be able to do.

Or at least, I know I will for some time to come.
Until I am not so new…and naive…and have found my lesbian legs…or whatever.

And P wonders what it is about this woman that sets me off? Huh! This is a classic example of how beginnings can affect the afterward. She calls it a blip…and I suppose for her it was. But not for me. I’ll let this go one day because I will have to for my sanity’s sake, but for now I live in the shadow of doubt and insecurity. I’m not sure how to move past the fact that she wants to be friends again with this particular ex-girlfriend when the only thing they ever had in common was fucking each other?

And she worries about my tame, non-passionate, non-sexual relationship with Mike! God. That’s almost laughable. Almost 😦

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