I Am Doomed

I am doomed I tell you, doomed. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to jail, doomed.


The day started off just like any other day, another sunny day, no rain in sight. Rain? I haven't seen the rain or felt its wetness upon my face for so long, I've almost forgotten what those wonderful drops from heaven are. What I wouldn't give to see the dark gray storm clouds rolling in the Southern sky, what I wouldn't give to see them burst open and spill upon this dry parched earth their tears. Sorry, forgive me. I forgot what I was doing.

Let's see, I remember now, no rain in sight, I was sitting on the deck soaking in the freshness of a new day, checking my emails. I scanned the few I had received and yes, there it was, another one from the special friend. I opened it first, the eyes read the words, his words. . . waiting on a response was the last words my eyes saw, the last words that entered and floated around inside my mind. The heart fluttered, the hands may have trembled a bit as the fingers typed back a response. Where and when? The wonders of the Internet, almost instantly the email alert came back.

Today. . . this afternoon . . .2 pm sound OK with you? I will be waiting for you. No problem, I replied, I will meet you there. After all, I thought to myself, nothing is going to happen, just a chance to finally meet this mystery man I had been talking to for some weeks now. A chance to meet, a chance to talk, and if nothing else, a chance to make a new friend.

We met, we talked, he suggested we go to a more secluded place, a more private place, a place he knew, a place I'm sure he had been before. I admit, I saw the red flag waving in the breeze but I was still intrigued, the logical reasoning of my sane mind, replaced with the lust filled expanding appendage being held captive within my well worn jeans. I know, go ahead. Call me a slut! Call me what you will! It doesn't matter, I am doomed anyway I tell you, doomed.

Things happened, things were done, the taste of his lips still linger, the touch of his roaming hands, I remember . . . but I must not think of these things, I must forget.

"Why did you not tell me this before?" I heard myself asking.

Oh, My God, what have I done? I am doomed, doomed to spend eternity, my soul lost to the bowels of Hell!

Wait . . . maybe all is not lost! Maybe, just maybe, could it be possible? Could this man be also my redeemer!

Bless me Father, for I have sinned!