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hellokendrabeckett · 4 years

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Mark One

I don’t even know how to write a book, blog, let alone a letter. I just need a place to come to share how I feel about some of the boys/men that have come and gone in my life. I feel like true closure is needed but the toxicity rooted in texting these guys would lead me down a path, I’ve worked a long time to escape. For the sake of my sanity, I’ve come back to Tumblr, to let it all go and maybe help one of you who wander onto this blog. My name is Kendra Beckett, I’m happily married now at a pretty ripe age of 21. Yet, the ghosts of boyfriends past do still haunt me from time to time, so in the efforts to get rid of these burdens, i’ve taken on a creative approach to release... writing (in addition to prayer).

Hmm...so I’ll start with saying that if you’re a Marvel fan you’ll soon figure out the name of this lover. It couldn’t be easier to decode, really. I pray I don’t have lawsuits in line after pressing post on this one but let’s be honest, he’s not reading this. I’m not sure he ever read anything outside of DMs and text messages, all of which can’t be found here. So... I think i’m safe. His name for the sake of this is going to be Mark One. The irony in Mark One being the alias for one of my favorite superheroes but also one that reflects his name (and his somewhat villainous role in my life) works out well.

Mark One wasn’t supposed to happen, like all love, it kinda just did. I honestly don’t even remember how we met, I just remember how fast I fell. It was my Junior year and well, I had, well, have a thing for football players. He was one of the many that caught my eye. He was able to capture my attention, even if I couldn’t keep his.

He was about 5′7 and had an olive colored skin that was so soft to touch despite his rough persona. He sported broad shoulders, a perfect smile, and an edge-up that was never neglected. He smelled of all the greatest things, and not overly pungent like the colognes in the store but just enough to keep you wanting more. His spirit was electrifying, his gaze could stop you in your tracks. His mysteriousness made you want to explore all of his depth- and I did.

He didn’t come from wealth, and he definitely wasn’t the brightest, but when he smiled he lit up my world. He showed me his humble beginnings and his family accepted me like one of their own. His house was always warm, running rampant with kids and smells of fresh laundry. He slept on a mattress in the corner of his living room, a great contrast to the gated community I was living in. He always wrapped his arms around me and told me all the things he loved about me. He helped me escape, let me cry, taught me things and funny enough, he taught me how to tie the laces of my sneakers because evidently I was “choking” my Nikes. He was patient with me, he adored me, and above all I knew that he loved me. Though there was all of this good, he came with his fair share of bad too.

He’d convince me to do things that my parents would have killed me for. It was with him that I sneaked out to spend nights in random motels, go to drug heavy parties, and ride passenger in street races. He was adventurous, often incredibly dangerous but I loved these thrills that came with being with him. Despite all the danger, I never truly felt fear because he had a way of making me feel safe. I guess love helps paint narratives that seldom align with reality. I spent so many nights on the ground waiting for the cops to move from our view, so we could sneak back to safety after being somewhere we shouldn’t have been or playing fugitive in a private area. Nights with him felt free even if us getting caught would cost me my admittance to the colleges I dreamt up, my living situation with my cousin, or whatever other privileges I had my eyes set on. He was fun, and I was in love.

My parents hated him because he’d alway smell of the previous nights adventure, or the frequently hotboxed Pontiac he drove. But I loved him and there was no way that anyone was keeping me from him. I spent all my money on him, dressed him in the finest things a young teenager could afford. Any trip I went on, he had to come too. Mark One was always the plus one, and there was literally nothing anyone could say or do to change how madly infatuated I had become.

He wasn’t the guy I lost my virginity too but he definitely taught me a thing or two... or a thousand. In fact, he prides himself to this day for being the person who coached me on all that I know. I think that’s weird but to each his own...celebrate what you can. I will say he did teach me a lot and contradicted everything I learned in Sex Ed. He made me so comfortable that we stopped using protection throughout our youthful and seriously crazy relationship. There were so many times I’d be freaking out about the possibility of being pregnant, but he would be rejoicing because he wanted me to have his babies. The dumber and younger version of myself thought this was romantic... yeah I know, I’m embarrassed to even write it but what can I say? Love/Lust is dumb.

It started off great, random nights and stories I’ll later tell my daughter but it ended bitter because with him I experienced my first serious heartbreak. These pregnancy scares weren’t rare, in fact, I had several. I continue to think that I’m pregnant sometimes when Aunt Flo isn’t exactly on time... but during my most frightening scare, (like 2 months late type of scary) I found out the most heartbreaking news about the boy I gave everything too. When I was gone for not even two days, he couldn’t handle the time he spent without sex... so he messaged one of his exes and well...

He cheated.

I didn’t find out the decent way, I found out through going through one of his private accounts and seeing the messages there. Me going through his messages was a problem in itself but what I found shook my world. He had no idea about the fact that I was struggling and thinking I was pregnant. Honestly, I was too scared to mention it for fear that he’d just laugh at me after all the times we had thought I was- only for it to be bloating, diet changes, or reaction to my excessive running. But the boy that I chose over my spirituality, the boy who I chose over obeying my parents, remaining loyal to my friends, went on twitter to seek out his ex for sex while I was gone for no longer than 72 hours. You’d think that this would be my lesson to never compromise my morals again but my heartbroken younger self started on a path of self loathing and sabotage.

In my mind, His actions were telling me I wasn’t even worth the wait of 72 hours. And the worst part of it all was I believed that. I stayed with him even after seeing those messages but the damages and the distrust was so much that our relationship fell a part pretty quickly.

He followed me to college and we both decided to try and make it work despite not being on the same campus. He was only 10 miles away but history showed that he couldn’t handle distance. The pain of feeling inadequate infiltrated my thinking and the young woman that was meant to enjoy her freshman year in college with presumably the love of her life, spent most of it seeking approval from boys who would never give it.

I don’t know if it was because I wanted to hurt him too, or because I wanted to feel loved and just desired again, but I started doing the same thing he did to me and laid with so many boys that didn’t respect me- some not even knowing my name. It was a disgusting time for me, seriously. The walks back to my dorm- more than just shameful. It was honestly painful. Seeking and seeking but finding nothing, just boys that were interested in the depth of my body, not my soul/personality.

These feelings of insecurity and emptiness carried with me throughout the rest of my romantic life and I’m still trying to escape it. I’m flawed, very flawed. It wasn’t until very recently, perhaps around 6 months into my marriage that I finally wholeheartedly committed to loving and choosing my Husband. With the help of God, some incredible patience and unconditional love on the part of my Husband, I’m doing much better but before I get to the peak.. I’m going to speak on the valley of darkness I wandered through for some time.

Mark One did some damage, and the wounds were never treated with proper bandage, so my love life twisted and turned... and I ended up with a ton of new burns.

This was just Mark One.

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