Before I could think about it, I pursed my lips together and beckoned him into me with the sound of kisses. As the sound left my mouth I froze, wishing immediately I could take it back.
“I am not a fucking dog, don't treat me like your bitch. I won't kiss you when you do that,” echoed in my mind as I remembered how easily I was convinced that my simple request for affection was the ultimate disrespect.
Still, he drew closer to my face and provided the physical expression of love I was searching for in that moment. As he pulled away, his smile gave reassurance before his words did. “I love when you do that, it's so cute, I can't say no to it.”
As easily as breathing, without even knowing what he had done, he once again reassured me that the way I love is not a problem and was never disrespectful. Everything that I was once chastised for, that was hated and trained out of me, he pulls back out with care and adoration. Each day with him I find myself unlearning all of the harsh conditioning, laid out with words designed to kill. Daily he reminds me that I did not love in the wrong ways but that the wrong person was the recipient.