pov

I wanna love me, the way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me, the way that you trust me

Ooh, cuz nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

This song was the start of the playlist I shared with my ex shortly after we admitted our feelings for each other. I didn’t necessarily relate to the lyrics, I imagined it more in the opposite direction actually. I wanted him to see himself how I saw him. He was smart (usually), and funny, and sweet. Hardworking. Nice physique.

I knew he didn’t see it because his wife wasn’t smart enough to get his jokes. Didn’t appreciate his efforts to keep her happy. Was in denial about the fact he covered more than his share of the bills and the chores. Didn’t see how nice his arms and chest (and dick) were.

There was a period of a couple months where every time he slid inside me I briefly thought about her. I hated it, but I couldn’t get over the fact she’d be willing to lose him. Was sex with fat guys worth losing one of the best husbands and dads I’d met? So every time we had sex I was slightly in awe that I got to be there and confused why she chose not to be. Luckily, I was able to stop thinking about it.

Anyway, he didn’t see himself the way I did because he mostly heard negative things about himself. But I thought he was damn near angelic.

That passed. He ruined it. But even to this day, after a lot of heartbreak, I have to give him credit that all of the issues in our relationship boiled down to his loyalty to his wife and his aversion to divorcing her. Something I would respect about anyone else, if their spouse wasn’t actually a really bad person that purposely hurt me again and again.

I’ve been casually seeing this new guy for a little over two months now and… I guess I have a type. And that type is men that need “fixed.” Dakota knows this as well, but he needed to be “fixed” in a different way than these two gentlemen so I’ll save that for a different post.

My new situationship… wait. Is it even a situationship if we haven’t fucked? We mostly text and cuddle and yeah ok we’ve dry humped fully dressed like horny teenagers who are too scared to go all the way but… whatever. I guess that’s definitely still a situation, huh?

I think I’ll fuck him soon. But that also doesn’t really fit into this post so I’ll save that for later too. Anyway! Back to the original point I started with, I wish he could see himself the way I see him.

He’s going back to school for computer engineering. Right now he works as a mechanic and takes night classes at the local community college. I’ve never minded blue collar men but he seems a bit intimidated by the fact both Dakota and I are engineers. He informed me he was going back to school like he needed to prove himself. At the time I didn’t realize that he felt like that, I just congratulated him and told him we can help him with math if he needs it.

He doesn’t seem to think he’s smart. I have assured him he is, or I wouldn’t still be talking to him. Intelligence is very important to me in friends and partners. He seems surprised I find him funny (also high on my list of desired traits). But mostly… he doesn’t seem to believe he’s a good person.

He is. I’m not going to sit here and explain all the ways I know it’s true, but the way he interacts with people, the kindness he gives, the effort to help anyone in need. He is a good person.

But he grew up with some really bad people. And I think seeing that at a young age affects someone permanently.

It was the first time he fingered me. He had just made me cum all over the bed. We cuddled and kissed and it felt good. But Dakota was going to be home soon, so he got up and got dressed. Pants on, shirt still in his hand, he leaned against my bedroom doorframe. He studied my face.

“What?”

“I sold heroin when I was younger.”

Bruh. What? “Okay.”

“When I was like 13-14,” he said sheepishly. Oh, this was a confession. This was to see if I thought he was a bad person. If I would throw him away after finding out what he used to be.

“When you were a seventh grader?” I asked, distraught. Who would enlist a fucking thirteen year old to sell hard drugs?

“Yeah. My older cousins sold shit and made me help.”

“Did you ever do it?”

“No.”

“That’s good,” I said with a small nod. Okay so the next reveal wasn’t going to be that he’s actively an addict. After a pause I added, “and you don’t still sell it?” He shook his head. “Okay.”

“You think less of me.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I don’t think less of you. I think more of you, actually.”

He squinted at me. “Why?”

I shrugged. “You’re doing well. It’s easy to do well when you’re like me. My family and my upbringing. But you being where you are coming from that is even more impressive. I’m proud of you.”

I could see him processing. I wonder if anyone else had ever said that to him. That they were proud.

He walked back over to the bed to kiss my forehead before finishing getting dressed and heading out. We texted later that night about how I don’t care about that part of his past and that I think he has a bright future. This conversation showed me that I feel the same way about him as I did my ex; that I desperately want to show them themselves from my eyes. I want them both to be kinder to themselves. To love themselves. To believe they are worthy of my affection and respect.

To see them from my point of view.