Not your wife

When you told me that you were in love with me- "It's tearing me up. I don't think I love my wife, I know that I am in love with you, you're all I can think about"- you then went on to tell me that it wasn't sexual. Or that it sort of was sexual, but that if I didn't want to have sex then you understood. Or something. We were standing outside the station and you were in the midst of some monologue about how you just wanted to lay in a bed with me and stroke my hair. I wasn't old enough to drink, but even I knew that was dysfunctional.

"What do you mean, you don't want to have sex?" I asked, confused. If we weren't going to fuck- and I wouldn't have thought "fuck", I wouldn't have thought "made love" either, but I was only just over the age of consent, I hadn't fucked anyone or been fucked, I had only had biological intercourse really- what was the point in the dramatics? You don't take a girl in your A Level class out on a Friday night to tell her that you want to stroke her hair. I was young, but I knew that much. 
"Well, of course I do want to have sex with you," You said, almost with a hint of regret, like this was the least of your problems, "but I want to live with you. I want to be married to you. I want that more than I want to have sex with you." Even standing there in the drizzle at the age of 17, I knew this was ridiculous. I wanted to have sex with you. This whole thing was built on that I wanted very much to have sex with you. I did want to marry you, more than anything, I thought you were a God and who wouldn't want to be married to a fucking God, but did I want to fuck you? Yes! A thousand times yes. 

But still you persisted with this- did I love you? Of course I fucking loved you. Did I want to be with you for the rest of my life? Yes, it seemed strange that you would even ask when I did want you for the rest of my life, couldn't you see that it was shining out of my eyes? Would I marry you? Standing in the rain, I laughed and asked if this was a proposal, but you didn't even smile, you just repeated the question. I said that I would, I would marry you now, here and now, if I could. 

We never did, of course. You asked me again, perhaps a year later, and my answer was still the same. It would never have changed. You lied to me and cried on me and hit me and raped me and you sucked the blood from my neck for years and it would always have been the same answer. I would be married to you now if you had followed through, I would never have left you. Never. Am I glad that I am not your wife? Every day. Am I sorry that I never was? Every single day. 

36 days after making me promise to never leave you, we had sex for the very first time and the world shattered beneath the bed.