Galatians 5:14

Hi!

Do you love yourself?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses. You don’t need to get so uppity about it. It’s just a question.

I kind of hit a sore spot though, didn’t I?! Yeah, thought so.

What is self love?! Is it self worth? Is how I love myself directly proportional to the way I judge myself? Why do you judge yourself? By what standards?

Kidding. That’s another talk altogether.

So, self worth. Are you… worthy?! Do you have what it takes to be worthy? Shitty questions, aren’t they? I know… but let’s be honest. How many times have you found yourself standing in front of a clerk, weighed from head to toe, left to right, forced into that corner of self doubt, asking yourself: ‘What did I ever do to him?’, while he asks himself: ‘Is this puny little insect of a human being worthy of the time it takes to do the job that I’m being paid for out of their money?’

See where I’m getting at? What gives us the right to judge other of their worth? Isn’t it obvious? The fact that we judge ourselves, the fact that we’re taught to do it. From the moment we’re brought into this world, we’re weighed, measured, graded, marked, analyzed… judged. Why shouldn’t you be… tell me, why do YOU matter? What makes you so special? What? You think that at the moment of your birth, the stars aligned, Mercury went out of its retrograde phase and the cosmic dust of gods popped you out? You, the pinnacle of human evolution, YOU: Jack, Jane, Mary, Bob, Logan, Bubba or whatever your name is, you were born and then the world was right once more, unicorns started pooping rainbows, three dolphins juggled each other into a frenzy while the sun found a purpose for shinning.

Admit it, you’d very much want to believe that, wouldn’t you?

Heh, then why don’t you love yourself?

Let me tell you a story, a story about a girl who found love in the strangest of places: inside.

J had led an interesting life. Her parents, F and T, were old Andalusian nobility, her great-great-great-grandfather Q had been some sort of knight or some such, appreciated for his bravery and valor in chasing down some rebellious giant… windmills. Luck made it that one of those windmills was the hiding place for the infamous corsair Valentin Dumont, who had stacked his treasure troves of jeweled women all over the place. Wealthy, dumb as nails, Q went on to lead a chivalrous life full of self-imposed worth, inherited by all the generations that came after him. Fast forward into the future, we have J, young, beautiful and just as dumb, but who gives a shit, she was nobility? Did it matter? Of course. Self worth is only as valuable as you think it is to other peoples.

Yeah, I said peoples. Why? Google it.

Cool. So, J, young, beautiful and… everything else of note. She had gone to the best schools. What, you thought you needed brains for those? Heh! At the age of twenty-two, she had moved out of her parents’ mansion to a burlesque looking studio in the middle of Barcelona and started living La Vida Loca.

What, you’re having trouble imagining what a twenty-two woman is capable of? Don’t tell me, I’m a misogynist. Hah, jokes on you, they invented stereotypes for a reason; you know. You’re just jealous you’re not a young Andalusian lost princess living it up in Barcelona. Don’t know what you’re missing? Well…

His name was Jack, he was from USA and he came to Europe supposedly to study some PC crap that would land him in the first major corporation that would have him. She had him in the back of the nightclub they met. He told her she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen and asked her if she wasn’t really some long-lost princess. She blushed at this. She had always kept her heritage a secret. Why? It was more romantic like this. Deep down, she always yearned for someone to discover her innermost nobility. Jack didn’t look too hard for it once he tore off her panties and pinned her against the wall, his search was over.

Then there was Jaque.

Whoa, whoa, whoa… J then Jack, then Jaque. You’re thinking I’m seriously lacking imagination at his point, aren’t you? Maybe I’m making a point you haven’t been able to grasp. Eeeeh?

As I was saying, Jaque, French dude looking for love in beautiful Barcelona. The city where genius Salvador Dalí greeted each day by rubbing one off to its splendor. Jaque had come up to J as she was enjoying a quaint little croissant in Plaça de Gaudi and had told her he wanted nothing more than to drink the sunlight out of her eyes. One hour later, she was enjoying the view from his hotel window overlooking the Plaça as he was slapping her toned yoga ass silly. He left for Paris the next day.

Juan, I’m overdoing it, aren’t I? He owned a Lambo, and she found out that although exquisite to behold, the leather seats chafed after more than an hour of moving back and forth.

Matthew, he owned a boat.

Alejandro, he loved to write poetry.

Santiago was majoring in Computer Sciences and she loved the way he made her feel stupid.

……

J is now sitting at a table at Terrat waiting for her friend Sonia to arrive. She’s thirty years old now, still beautiful, still young, not as dumb anymore. She’s working at a famous law firm in the city and likes to help at the animal shelter on weekends. She’d love to get a dog but is afraid of the commitment. Sonia is late, she’s always late, J hates that about her, but she’s the only one with whom she can still relate. Out of nowhere, someone sets an XO Fashion in front of her. She looks up and sees the waiter sporting a wide smile.

‘I didn’t order anything.’ she says. When caught by surprise, the little chimes in her voice soften, taking on a velvety grace that envelope you, brushing your hair lightly.

‘I know, but you looked like you needed it. I know it’s your favorite.’

It was. Sweet and bitter at the same time with the grace and power of Hennessy to imprint the sugary aftertaste and chase away the day’s shadows.

‘Thank you!’ and enveloped the rim of the glass with her lips, allowing for that note of flavor to touch her tongue just a bit, invading her senses.

‘My pleasure. Let me know if I can get you anything else.’

J had noticed Jorje before, gliding between the tables of Terrat. She had never paid him any mind, though. He hadn’t seemed worthy.

Later that night, Jorje enveloped her as she stepped through the door of the studio. His hand gliding upwards on her abdomen, feeling the muscles tense below the fabric. He pressed her back against him and brushed her left breast with his fingertips. She felt the softness of his touch and her nipples chafed against her bra as they hardened, screaming to be released. He continued its course and cupped her chin while lightly touching her neck with his little finger. He used his nail to brush the little follicles that had stood up in surprise, sending a shudder through her body.

J pushed herself hard against him and felt his erection rubbing against her lower back. She stoop on her toes and guided it towards the sacral vertebrae. The small dip it made there made him shudder as he pressed his lips against her neck.

His left index and middle fingers had run up her arm and rested on her shoulder. He gripped the muscles beneath her skin and gripped her dress with the tip of his index finger, exposing the whiteness underneath. He bit into it and she gasped, and as she did, the knuckle of his right index finger pulled at her lower lip, exposing pearl-like teeth, trembling with anxiety, the moistness of her tongue searching for it in vain.

He loved the way he fit in her lower backside and slid down again to her abdomen with his left hand. He felt her cheeks grip at him fiercely. The tightness of her gluteus maximus rubbing themselves into his flesh forever. Each stroke exposed more of the skin hiding beneath her dress and the pressure on her pelvis made the shudders hurt. She wanted to be kissed.

She wanted to feel his wet mouth search for hers and the expectation drove her to madness. The way she arched her back in delight allowed them to make eye contact, and in that split second, they knew the desire they shared. She closed her eyes in shame. The need was painful. He jumped at her and pulled her mouth close, biting her lip in reproach.

Her dress had been driven up even still and now he felt the rim with his fingers. Greedily, he snatched at her soft panties, releasing the heat that had been building up inside. His fingers ran slick from the need and he felt her throb beneath his touch. He slipped in and she shuddered quietly.

As one opens the doors to expose a lavishly adorned room, sucking in the air from your lungs, so did he fall into her embrace, forcing her to grip him ever more tightly.

Her hand went on to explore the fine cut of his trousers, flowing naturally towards the hardness of his intent. Released, it felt as if it had been shaped for her and her alone. Curiosity got the better of her as she ran her fingers up and down its girth. He shuddered as she bit the tip of his tongue, hands frozen in their place.

He worshiped her.

She felt it as she took him in, cascading voraciously at his size.

His hands sought her nipples, pinching them quietly.

She shuddered.

He bit her back and pressed on.

Her fingers ran through his hair, and her tongue measured the shape of his ear.

He bit into her shoulder, and she gripped him tightly, squeezing purposefully.

She yelled.

He lunged, caressing her lips.

She gripped tighter; he pushed harder.

She pulled his hair; he cupped her breast.

She moaned encouragingly.

He screamed victoriously.

She sighed fumblingly.

He froze powerlessly.

They laughed, and she felt noble once more.

Pfiu, now I’m all hot and bothered thinking how lucky these two are. It’s something pulled out of Miss Penny’s guide to favorable orgasms.

The next day, they slipped back beneath their hard shelves. She the valuable business woman with a lineage, he the flirty waiter with a heart of gold. And moved on.

Pretty shitty ending, right? Well, this isn’t one of those cheap 3 for 1 stories you can get at the corner store.

Now quit looking for happiness in romance novels and learn to accept that you are worthy of your love before anyone else’s.

Oh, and always wear a condom.

Peace!