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Condom Recycling

I said it.

By Opal O'MalleyPublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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I have always had an "old soul." I've always had a need to protect the earth, and everything on it. As a child I was drawn to the concept of recycling, simply because it was the simplest way to help rid the earth of the ugliness that human beings has created.

This old soul of mine has caused me to be more open minded than most others that were around my age. I've always been the kid that sat at the adult table; interacting with other children simply bored me. As a teenager, I found this to be more true than ever before. Interaction with other teenagers was literally torture, unless I was saving them.

Looking back, I realize that a large part of my existence has always been saving things or people. As a child, it was recycling and animal conservation. As a teenager, it evolved into the need to take other teenagers who were struggling with life, and "fix" them.

I surrounded myself with the definitive "bad boy." Considering that I was an honor roll student with a supportive family and a lot of free time, I was perfect prey for these guys. Unfortunately I thought that it was my choice to take care of them. I thought that I was making a difference! I wasn't doing their homework for them, I was tutoring them. I wasn't chauffeuring them around in the car that my dad had bought me, I was keeping them busy so that they weren't getting into trouble. I wasn't being used whenever they asked me to buy them new sneakers or cigarettes, I was showing them that someone did care!

Well, as time went on, I did grow close to a few of these "projects" of mine. One in particular, whom we will refer to as J, was especially special to me because I felt the need to be his older sibling. In my family, I am the oldest. I have always taken that role seriously. I have always felt the need to set a good example for my younger brother; I have always been his protector and guide. J, on the other hand, was the youngest in his family. His older brother, which I'm calling D, was the exact opposite of me in regards to how he handled his birth order!

D was every aspect of a bad influence on J. He supplied J with drugs and alcohol. He would include his younger brother in different illegal activity, and teach him how to get away with these things. Being that D had his own home, he would often let J stay with him and allow him to do things that he shouldn't. I had attempted to step in and be the positive role model that I believed J needed. I really believed that if I tried long enough, eventually J would see the difference in our approaches and not want his brother's approval anymore.

I was wrong, and angry. I didn't actually know D personally, but I desperately wanted the opportunity to tell him off! I wanted to let him know exactly how angry he had made me. I didn't think that I would ever have the opportunity, but to my surprise J approached me one afternoon about possibly going on a DATE with D.

A date. With D. Really?

Well, in my mind, this was probably the only chance that I would have to be introduced and alone with this bastard, so I accepted. Apparently J had wanted to set his brother and I up on a date for quite some time, and D was anxious to meet me. Believe me, I was ANXIOUS to meet him!

So, date night arrives. I had decided to dress like it was my dream date. I wanted this guy to drool over me before I destroyed him for being such a failure at everything. I had arranged to pick him up. I was not going to be left stranded somewhere after I had my moment. Whenever I arrived to pick him up, to my surprise, J and his girlfriend were waiting with D! They had decided to have a double date to make D and I more comfortable.

I was furious. I did not want to have this conversation in front of J, and especially not his girlfriend. I had no intentions of humiliating J, so I decided to keep quiet for the time being. My first impression of D was that he was not attractive, and not a gentleman. He barely made eye contact or spoke. He didn't open doors or have any type of manners. Dinner was a punishment for me, or at least it felt that way.

After dinner, J and D began telling stories about their father and upbringing. I sat in awe of how much they had been through—together. I was shocked to hear how many times D had rescued his little brother from their drunk of a father. I listened, I absorbed. I realized that even as horrible of an example as D was, he was doing the best that he knew how with the example that he had been given.

In that moment, the "old soul" of mine took over. I felt a want to get to know this man better. I wanted to hear more stories about how he had done good things for J. When they invited me back to D's house for a beer, I gladly accepted—even though I didn't drink and no one except for D was old enough to anyway.

Once we arrived at D's house, I was more shocked than before. This man was living in a trailer that didn't have a floor. It was dirt. It had no electricity, just extension cords ran from some neighbor's house. I probably should have ran home, then. I didn't. I understood that this man was so desperate to get away from the wretched excuse for a father that they had, that he would live in dirt. He was so desperate to keep his younger brother away from it that he would allow him to stay there, too.

As soon as we got inside, J and his girlfriend disappeared into a back bedroom. D and I sat on his fold out bed in the living room and talked; it felt like hours. Hearing more stories, more trauma that they had experienced only made me like him more. As our conversation continued, I felt the urge to comfort him in ways that only a passion driven woman can.

I know it was a pity fuck. I know it was wrong. I didn't care. I was not physically attracted to him in the least; if I'm honest, he smelled like old beer and sweat. It didn't matter. I was a fixer, and this was how I was going to fix him—even if it was temporary. We were going at it like wild animals, without a thought about tomorrow or next week. I wanted him inside of me, and I wanted him to release every bit of hatred and trauma that he had.

The moment had arrived, we were ready to go beyond foreplay. In a moment of clarity, I reminded him to wear a condom.

"A condom?" He asked, actually surprised.

"Yes!" I giggled, blushing from the adrenaline pumping through my body.

At that moment, naked and flexed over top of me, he yelled for his brother.

Now, J and I had been friends for a while. We were close, but certainly NOT close enough for him to be in the room with me while I was naked and within seconds of getting laid by his brother. I was in utter disbelief that D had called for J, but I was more concerned about what he asked whenever J replied through the door.

"What?" Thankfully, J had refused to open the door.

"When you are done with your condom, can I use it?"

I swear to you, I have never gotten up and dressed that quickly in my life. I didn't say goodbye to anyone, or even close the door behind me. I left D naked, standing in his living room, erection standing.

I'd like to tell you that my passion for recycling was extensive enough to recycle a condom, but it's not. Even an old soul has her limits, and that was mine. I realized on my drive home that I couldn't fix everything or everyone. I accepted that some people have to fix themselves, and this was one of those occassions.

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