I don’t want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else
Sexual ownership and getting over an ex.
I tell myself that I am over him. It’s been three years and enough time has passed for me to know that he is probably four-five girls over me. He is also probably fucking his way through Guwahati by now. Dear ex, you are a cruel, heartless, soulless machine, sex on legs and probably still the hot mess you are now that you were back then.
So I heard you found somebody else
And at first I thought it was a lie
I took all my things that make sounds
The rest I can do without
I don’t want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else
Our love has gone cold
You’re intertwining your soul with somebody else
When I first heard ‘Somebody Else’ I was on my way to the kitchen, one fateful afternoon. The lyrics unsteadied me, but it was the memories that were suddenly unleashed that had me keeling over. I was breathless and ashamed that this song I was hearing for the first time so vividly painted the feelings I had been trying to repeatedly repress — I was over him and I didn’t want his body anymore, but I hated to think about him with anyone else.
I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone
And then leaving with somebody else
No, I don’t want your body
But I’m picturing your body with somebody else
What was that one shocking incident turned into self-inflicting harm I practiced every day — perhaps to purge myself of the desire of still being sexually owned by him until it was more than this twisted rite I made myself go through again and again. I ended up sleepless for hours, wondering how it had come to this — three years and I was still punishing myself for what could not become permanent with him. Three years and I still could not bear to think about him with anyone else, bodies intertwined and ecstasy reflecting their slick desires. Three years and my body and soul are still left pining after him.
Sexual ownership was not something I thought was possible. But this song proved that it was and I realized I was a chronically sick patient without a cure — for as long as he was out there, sleeping with every woman he met. Sexual ownership was real and I was still reeling from the repercussions of that fateful afternoon of realization. Repercussions that a rebound relationship could not solve and neither did a flurry of dating random guys day-in-and-out. Sexual ownership was real and I was nowhere close to recovering from it, not that my twisted mind even tried to. Just as sex was one of the three essential truths of life, the others being birth and death, sexual ownership was a real phenomenon and the proof lay in me — three years and still being owned by him, and his memories. I was ‘his’ just as he was mine and nothing, neither time nor anyone else, could make a lie out of it.
Come on baby
This ain’t the last time that I’ll see your face
Come on baby
You said you’d find someone to take my place
I just don’t believe that you have got it in you ‘cause
We are just gonna keep ‘doin’ it’ and everytime
I start to believe in anything you’re saying
I’m reminded that I should be getting over it
And it didn’t help that we kept doing it again and again. He always played the game of push-and-pull and I was helpless, without any agency because he owned me (and my heart) and I always said yes. I fell for him every time. My friends tell me to get over it again and again, and I say, Yes, yes, yes. Yes.
No. It is impossible. Come on baby, This ain’t the last time that I’ll see your face. You and I both know it.
I don’t want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else
Our love has gone cold
You’re intertwining your soul with somebody else
I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone
And then leaving with somebody else
No, I don’t want your body
But I’m picturing your body with somebody else
So how could I go and dare, to even try and merge my body, let alone my soul with somebody else? Force couldn’t deter me. Neither could undeniable love from various boys. He was the one who owned me and I could give him my soul, again and again. I already did. So why was it something I still hid from others? Why did I feel so ashamed when I first was blasted by this damn song? Why was it such a mirror for my pain and desire and why did I still continue to listen to it, more than three years down the line? Why can I not let him go? Why does he still own me?
Nayanika Saikia is a blogger and YouTuber. She can often be found on her Instagram account Pretty Little Bibliophile. She also graduated top of her class and is an avid reader and book reviewer.
