” Just himself at the door, nothing more. I was a little more self conscious this time. I hadn’t put effort into myself. Without the dress and th... make-up.... I felt as plain as I looked. A few moments of silence passed by before either of us said anything. I stood in the middle of his living room... such an elegant room. I couldn’t find any words to say. Even still, I could feel his eyes on me. As the distressing moments swept by, I took it upon myself to speak first. I turned to face him. " What do you mean?" I started, "Honestly, I am not playing any trick on anyone. Please Marcy, give me the benefit of the doubt, I'd really like to get to know you." Benefit of the doubt ... please," she replied rolling her eyes, "How do you explain this?"Marcy picked up the score sheet and held it clenched in her hand in front of my nose. The score sheet had numbers 1-100 on them with two boxes after each number marked either correct or not correct. After each number was a bright red ink mark,. ‘Nothing wrong back here,’ she said, continuing to explore my rectum with deep, twisting probes. No one had ever done that to me, although I’d explored a bit with my own fingers, and my boyfriend tried to take me there without any permission or preparation. It felt glorious and I never wanted her to stop, ‘Do you want me to stop?’ she asked as though to read my mind. ‘No,’ I whispered. She slowly worked a second finger in, twisting into me. I felt her move as she slid her leg between mine and. Now all this talk of words, and language, and racism points our faces at one word. But we are going to avoid that word, and go for another! The H word! I hate you, I hate talking to that guy, I hate going there, I hate this class, I hate the neighbors, I hate being here, I hate my life...How bad do you really have it? Sure, you're broke, your girlfriend left you, you have a hundred kids, you have no friends ... whatever. You're alive. That's enough to say "I love you" to somebody ... something,.