Both Eyes Open

I did it to myself. I know that sex triggers imprinting. I thought about it while I was sitting there, flush with afterglow and basking in oxytocin, staring at her, willing myself to drink every bit up, to imprint as hard as I was capable of. I was similarly cognizant of my own willful stupidity when I held her casually, excessively, even possessively. I thought about it when initiating more sex than I really needed and then while we had that sex. Overkill turned out to be fun in and of itself. This will add to my pyre. When we stared into each other's eyes, I felt like she was thinking the same thing, like she was making the same silly choice. That endeared her to me even more, though her consent was likely imagined.

I knew it would end. I knew this would come. I knew it would hurt like a bitch. Hell, I wanted it to hurt like a bitch. Did I anticipate the damage to be so perverse? Did I realize the grief would seek not to make me pay in pain, but to etch its toll upon my soul? I knew it wouldn't be so straightforward as simple, immense suffering. I knew it was likely to leave a mark, and an ugly one at that. In a way, I knew. I'd at least reconciled myself to that nature of cost. I didn't anticipate the terror it would inspire, but what's terror? Poor man's pain, that's what.

I also knew halfway wouldn't have been worth it. Halfway would have been disingenuous, not to the perfection of our pairing (though I've perpetrated plenty of self-delusion, I never deluded myself into believing in perfection), but to the moment of opportunity. Opportunity to both of us. The cost of the decision was similarly equal.

Should I feel guilty? What I engendered on myself went both ways, knowing participant or not. I'd like to think she knew. I know her values and ideology were different enough for her to disagree with the principle, but did she agree with the instance? I guess I felt like it was a good decision for me so it must be a good decision for her, even if I was making it for her. That's at least morally questionable, but I try for questionability not to give me pause. You only get so many chances to dive into experience like that. I've had far fewer chances than I have hoped. Fewer than many I idolize and envy. Damned if I won't make the most of what comes my way.