Her mind wandered, slightly confused. She was living some aspect of her life she always wanted to, things were in place, she was happy and she was busy. Yet something inside made her stomach tie itself in knots. Everything she did made her feel disgusting.
Maybe it was because she couldn't get past the second date without getting at least partially naked. Every time at the time she felt right in her actions. Afterwards, she wanted to vomit and punch herself. Most of the time, it seemed like she almost blacked out for moments, like she was extremely intoxicated or extremely drunk. Those are not valid excuses though, alcohol was only involved once, and any impairment it would have caused had worn off by the time hands were down pants.
Now she plans slightly for these moments. She tells herself she's not slutty, she just doesn't want a relationship but still wants some action. That's not too much to ask. Most men wouldn't deny any woman that. But then they lose all respect for her, or not all, but some, she knows it they treat her differently after. To her, certain men could be the sweetest most respectful people she knows, but after their tongues touch certain parts of her anatomy things change. Sexual innuendos and attempts for sexual banter become normal parts of conversation with any of them. It makes her feel like she's ruined something. Now this never even has the possibility of being a healthy relationship.
"I've touched you and you've touched me far too early into anything. It has no meaning. We've destroyed any meaning we could possible ever have. We've ruined things. We've tainted things. I don't want to ever ever ever be your girlfriend. I can no longer trust that you aren't going to be another, 'please just let me fuck you without a condom, I'll pull out, please please please,' kind of guys, and I really don't want to get myself invested into anything just to find that out. You don't respect me sexually anymore. How could you? I certainly wouldn't if I were in your position. I don't even really respect myself now. In fact, I feel disgusted with myself. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life! Everytime I do this shit I just want to die. I don't want to ever touch you ever ever ever. I don't want to see you. "
She wants to scream this at him. She wants to scream. But a part of her is still curious. A part of her is also cowardly and indecisive, so instead she says, "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow at 7:30... maybe I'll stay the night."