Though Things Like This Make Me Sick
The trouble with the journey back to couple hood is that, with every interaction – every date, every communication, every intimate moment that you have with another person, the more you want the dream – the more you want the dream, the more you want a healthy relationship.
But it’s not that simple. You have to take your time and properly assess and; for lack of a better term, ‘try on’ different people. Which is what dating is supposed to be about. Unfortunately, dating has become convoluted and somewhat complicated these days – like social media and its half-heartedness. Putting on your best face and ‘selling’ yourself and your wares to another human – and usually on the internet. It’s like applying for a job. Sometimes, I even consider sending a copy of my resume and my LinkedIn profile just to get the ‘in’ that others are trying to get.
Sometimes, I half expect a potential suitor to show up at a date with their resume and a portfolio of experiences and certifications from their relationships – “In a relationship between this date and this date; duties included, this and that; strengths and weaknesses and specific and relevant skill sets, etc. It’s ridiculous. It has taken the fun and excitement and mystery out of the process of getting to know someone.
How much more ridiculous is the idea of meeting your perfect match online? But we do this anyway – hoping to be proven wrong. Hoping that we will be the exception, and not the rule. Swiping through; “my friends think I’m special”, “newly separated”, “still married but have needs”, profiles with the words; “liars”, “no drama”, “other half” and “soul mate”. Couples pics, pics of pants, shirtless pics, no pics. For a quick minute, I actually considered offering my services to some of these men, to help them create a profile that would actually catch a decent woman’s eye. Then, thought better of it. They would figure it out over time. That, if they were still online after five years and several failed relationships, maybe they needed some time alone first too.
My life had never been about me. With a broken love template, it had always been about someone else. First, about whatever boy/man I was with and trying to please or become what they needed. Then about my children. I was a chameleon because it was my survival instinct to be so. The only way anyone would want me was to be what they wanted me to be. So, I became what they wanted and lost me.
Being alone had affirmed my strength and independence and had made me feel powerful and capable. The coupling journey – the search for a partner, or even simply allowing someone of the opposite sex and some form of intimacy into my life again – was taking that power away and making me question the reason for the journey because I felt like I needed someone in my life again. I needed to find balance again.
More, Dark Blue, Than Black
Dark Blue by Jack’s Mannequin is playing in the background, while I sit by the water having my coffee, after learning N is going back to his wife, and I think about all that I have been through and all that I’ve lost over the last three years since I joined the military. I think of my near suicide attempt and the aftermath of that – the heavy drinking and toxic and meaningless casual sex – the complete and utter emptiness of it all. I think of how he helped me, even after all of the shit that happened; my divorce, loss of family, friends, and death of loved ones. Starting over again, re-inventing myself and throwing myself into my career to cope and get through all of what had been going on in my hectic, chaotic and broken life and psyche. We were good together – not a couple, per se, but definitely good at things like sex and intimacy; partners on the job and in our day to day stuff. The sex was amazing. Freeing and physically fulfilling. And I actually felt good about myself after each time we were together, which was something new and the first time I hadn’t felt dirty after having sex with someone since my divorce - not clean, but not dirty, either. I loved him as a friend, and loved the thought of him as a partner. I felt safe with him, both on and off the job. I start to feel once again, like I’m drowning. He was my only connection for a time, the only thing keeping me afloat and I was desperately trying to keep my head above water as I started over again. The song continues -
“This flood (this flood) is slowly rising up swallowing the ground Beneath my feet, Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition so I'll swim (I'll swim) as the water rises up, the sun is sinking down And now all I can see are the planets in a row Suggesting it's best that I slow down”
I think about what it will be like to lose him. As a friend and a partner more than as a lover. The sex was amazing and I loved having intimacy that was easy and open like that, but I realized that it wasn’t the sex that I was going to miss the most. It was having a partner. I hadn’t realized that I put as much stock in the ‘relationship’ we were apparently in as I had. And suddenly, I felt more alone than I ever had. I felt like I was being washed away by the tides and was trying to swim toward the shore as the water pulled me in the opposite direction. I felt weak and useless. Incomplete. I still had to work with him, and it’s not like I could just quit my job and move away. I was owned – married to the Queen and at her beckon call. I went where she sent me. I’d come to Kingston only to be closer to my husband and family when his mom took ill. But he’d found someone else and moved on long before he even asked for a divorce, and I was left alone. This time, without the desire to move on to something else immediately, as I had always done in the past.
The song continues - “This night's a perfect shade of Dark blue (dark blue) Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you I said the world could be burning (burning) down Dark blue (dark blue)”
And I think once again, about ending it all. I think about how much lonelier I feel when I’m around others now, and I question what it is I have left. All of the kids have moved out. One is living abroad and the other is married and has her own life and husband’s family. I have no one. Work is going to be complicated and bring up all kinds of emotional garbage and baggage. I won’t feel safe with him anymore – either on or off the job. I’ve just lost my friend and only confidant. I don’t know anyone else other than co-workers and comrades; and police – especially military police are supposed to suffer in silence. You don’t share that you have any kinds of problems because if you do, you risk losing your job too. That is all I had left. I didn’t even have a pet. What did I have to live for now?
I had always been a fiery type personality. Not a rebellious type – or a rule breaker but I had a spark that ignited fiercely and freely with every injustice I witnessed. I advocated for others – always trying to leave other people’s lives a little better than how I found them. I was a force to be reckoned with. A Humanitarian and a Soldier at heart. What a perfect fit for the Military, I had thought when I joined. Fighting injustice and helping others with better tools in my tool box. What I hadn’t realized at the time, was that the Military didn’t want you to be that fiery fighter. They wanted you to be what and who they needed you to be. So, they slowly and systematically fought your fire until your spark went out and they re-ignited you, as they wished you to be re-ignited so that your fire was within their control. They isolated you from family and friends for long periods of time, and re-socialized you to the point where we only knew extremes – and where we accepted these extremes as the norm. After a while, these people took the place of my normal support systems and became like ‘family’ to me. Which, I realized was in part, why I was so attached to my ‘partner’.
This system had systematically pulled me apart, piece by piece and put me back together as who and what they wanted me to be – made me love them, made me feel like I needed them. That no one else could possibly understand me or help, or protect me like I thought he could. Made me rely on them and no longer understand how to live without them – they broke me, so they could put me back together the way they wanted me to be. I had started out broken and fragmented. Now, I was shattered. And I had absolutely no fucking idea how to even collect all the pieces of me again, let alone try to put myself back together; especially without my partner.
This one seemed to hurt more than even the end of my last marriage had. What the hell could I do? What had I always done? So, I drank copious amounts of alcohol and practiced copious amounts of promiscuity to help me find my way through the pain until it got really dark for me, and the entire world came crashing down around me. Not my darkest hour but certainly not the brightest either – more, dark blue, than black, really. But dark.
The key element of the art of aloneness though; at least at the beginning of the journey, is that you need to actually spend some time alone. You need to sit in the darkness and you need to find a way of illuminating it by yourself. Which, I eventually did but it took some time, and some very dark hours before I got there.
Somebody - By Depeche Mode
More Blue - Less Red
Being alone taught me who I was and about my worth. Taught me to value myself and love myself. It taught me to see things from my own perspectiev, as well as, what that looked like, as opposed to looking through someone else's eyes or the eyes of a couple. It taught me to put myself first for once - and what that really meant. It wasnt' selfish, it was self-preserving and self-caring.
Being alone taught me the real importance of boundaries, as well as how to define and implement them. How to say no and really mean it without feeling guilty or feeling like I had to explain myself for needing space or taking time for self-care. It taught me what proper, individualized self-care really looked like, that it's not all yoga, crystals, hot baths and meditation. That, sometimes, it's saying no to what you don't want in your life and yes, to what you do. It taught me about taking risks - small ones and ones that that required big, life-changing decisions. And, how and when to make those decisions.
Being alone taught me how to truly live; enhanced my relationships, gave me more clarity and helped me learn to love myself. But it didn't teach me how to love others.
It taught me the importance of treating everyone with the same empathy as you should be giving yourself and how to nurture every relationship, as you should nurture your relationship with yourself. It also taught me to let go of toxic relationships, jobs, and things that brought poison into my life. But it didn't teach me to accept love within an intimate relationship, or in an intimate manner. I needed to put myself out there, take a risk again. I needed to start dating; someone other than my partner, and something more than casual sex, and figure out what intimacy looked like for me - in a healthy way.
Which is when I started dating S.
Once I opened myself up to the possibility of being with someone in that way again, I found plenty of attention directed my way. Maybe because my vibe changed and others could see that, or because my vibe changed and I could finally see others that way. Either way, it had changed, and that was all that mattered. Suddenly, a number of opportunties presented themselves to me and I was flooded with attention; including, S texting me and asking if I wanted to have coffee.
This time, as something more than friends and ‘brothers in blue’. S and I had known one another for thirteen years. We had been friendly acquaintances while I was still married and then friendlier; not inappropriately but clearly connectedly, after my separation. We never explored the attraction that we both knew existed between us then because we had both been married when we connected and even, after things changed, for me they remained the same for him.
We were both coppers so we had that in common and would still have coffee and chats now and again but nothing was ever said about what we knew was there between us. So, when he texted me out the blue for the first time in several months, I was expecting another coffee date, and he did ask me for a coffee date but it turned out a date, date where we had coffee and a four-hour chat about his separation and my divorce. Next thing we knew, we were hanging out at his place for a movie date. Next, we were sleeping together.
I wasn’t looking for anything at that time but it was nice to feel desired again. He made me feel desirable and attractive again for the first time in many years. And, being with him meant starting to actually take care of my physical appearance again – preparing to date again, I suppose. It was something that I had been ignoring, hiding behind a veil of sadness that had seemingly encompassed me. And, I had been alone so long and in my own world and routine that I didn’t even think about what I would do or how I would respond to the idea of dating again. I had just got used to dating myself, hadn’t’ even got to know who I was or have a chance to love myself or work on myself. But S happened, and suddenly I was shaving my legs everyday again and was interested in being interesting again – for him, or for whomever came into my life in that capacity.
It was a strange feeling though, being in a position again where my physical and sexual needs and desires were once again dependent on another person. It had been so long since I had considered that a real option. S and I were, of course short lived – given the physical and sexual nature; combined with his recent separation and lack of time alone, himself. He wasn’t ready to get into anything serous, which quickly became apparent but I completely understood.
Most of us do that though – I had done that so many times, myself – had casual sex and friends with benefits with people who I could trust – with whom I felt safe and knew I wouldn’t become emotionally attached to or invested in while I was processing whatever relationship had ended. He was still processing a loss, himself and I knew it was inevitably going to end, as it did. But having spent so much time alone, and having begun to get to know myself a bit and understand more of my value than I had before, I knew I deserved more. How much more, yet I was uncertain. I didn’t even know what I wanted. So, it faded out until it ended. And that was okay.
I know now, that when I picked S, out of the others who had shown interest in me, I'd done so out of comfortability - knowing him, trusting him and feeling comfortable with him, like I had with N, before. I didn't realize it at the time but I was picking the same 'partner' over and over again; in different bodies, with different faces but ultimately, the same guy. Strong, capable, intelligent and protective - on the outside - but a false face of bravado for someone who didn't have a clue who they were, what they wanted or needed. Someone with such an intense sense of duty to serve and protect others that they defined themselves as such and put themselves last.
I needed to find a way out of this cycle. I needed to be open to something different - new for me - which is when I found D.
Young Again, Fun Again
It wasn’t until I started seeing a man twenty years younger than me that I finally truly understood real, intimacy again, and what that should look like. Not a permanent and lasting thing; not a possessive but a forever, for now kind of intimacy.
I always thought that as soon as you said the “I love you’s”, that you suddenly possessed and were possessed by another. That there were suddenly expectations and that it was supposed to last forever. That it had to be analyzed and defined. There had to be rules and expectations, and roles. That you had to label the relationship in some way. That’s how all of my other relationships had been up until that point – and, although none of them had worked out or lasted, that was all I knew. Not that I felt that a lasting relationship was a sign of a successful relationship but I guessed it meant something – to someone – but didn’t realize that it only needed to mean something to me and the person who I was in the relationship with.
So, I stopped saying “I love you” and started saying “let’s not define this”, and “let’s see where this goes”. I started dropping the expectations, in hopes that this would let me feel the passion I carried, or the love that I felt for the person who I was with. But it only made it worse, and I didn’t realize that not only was I selling myself short but was again, setting myself up to fail. By all rights, stating that it was an undefined relationship though, was really only actually defining it as casual. The expectation was that there would be no expectations or that neither party was allowed to feel anything for or, especially to fall for the other person. And, let’s face it, people who can maintain a relationship with a person they are sharing sexual energy with, where there is emptiness and a forced disconnect, are either those who are terrified of commitment or those who are either not willing, or unable to connect with and commit to the person they are sleeping with. And that left me numb and feeling empty.
Love and commitment to me, had always meant that by declaring love for another meant that this person was now your person - that they would suddenly be the person that you needed to make a life with. That once you said, “I love you”, it had to be reciprocated and you had to own it and wear it like a badge. It had to be lasting and meaningful or it was a waste of your expression of love and affection. The problem with that thought pattern however, was that if and when the relationship ended and you lost that person with whom you had confided your feelings, then you had failed again at, yet another relationship. So, by saying the “I love you’s” to the wrong person, you were messy and broken and carried guilt and shame for not being enough; loveable enough or whatever enough meant to you. To me, it meant that I was undesirable and unlovable, in general. I had learned that in childhood, and throughout my three failed marriages by the abuse and infidelity; lack of intimacy and loyalty. Maybe the common denominator was, in fact me.
Then I met D. Beautiful, sexy, manly and strong D. An incredible soul with whom I shared an amazing connection and even more intense chemistry. At first, I thought that was all that it was – that it couldn’t be more than that with someone twenty years younger but there was no age difference when we were together. Neither of us saw an age when we were intimate – we saw another human who we could be wholly and completely open and our true and authentic selves with. We shared a crazy, beautiful connection and had a really good physical connection, as well.
The first time you are intimate with someone, there is usually awkwardness and someone is inevitably holding back. The first time we were together, was the most intensely intimate and connected physical interaction I had had since my first love.
He wasn’t the first man to make me feel free but was the first to make me feel clean again. With him I felt like I had pressed the reset button and had the chance to find and regain some semblance of innocence and purity again. I wanted so badly to tell him all of this but every time I expressed any kind of ‘feeling’, we both panicked and pulled back. My inner crazy, jealous girl would come out to play and feel the desire to possess – to keep the person that made me feel young, fun and clean. And, my inner voice of reason would scream at inner crazy girl and tell me to run for the hills before I was hurt again – because for the first time in two decades, I had met a man who had the power to crush me – to tear me wide open again.
I needed to tell him – to say, D I love you because of the way that you make me feel when we’re together – because of the intensity of our sexual energy, because of the exchange between us and the passion ignited within us during these exchanges. But I didn’t know how to do that without the desire to possess or wish for permanence. So, I said nothing – partly because I knew that he didn’t feel the same way and wanted something different, and partly because I know that I fall too fast and hard, and that it shows too much.
He saw it – and he held back more because of it, and almost went running for the door, himself at one point. But I get it. I can’t hide my passion. I can’t pretend either to care or not to care. I can’t ignore my body, my heart or my minds reaction to the interactions with others. And that, either draws people into me or has the polar opposite effect on them.
We had met at a music night. An open mic jam that had begun for me, as a recurring weekly source of entertainment and had quickly become part of my self-care plan; and the people and had become part of my new, true tribe. Not only because of our shared passion for the music, but because we all shared the same energy and felt refreshed and revitalized after being together. It felt like we were drinking from a fountain of peace, unconditional acceptance and truth. We could all be completely and wholly our true and authentic selves there, with one another. No boundaries or rules – just peace, love and music.
I had found him there and had found the same in him. Which I later realized was part of the attraction and connection. He made me feel free, whole, home, young, fun and clean. Nervous, excited, content, aroused and relaxed. The way our bodies responded to one another’s touch – alive, awake, comfortable – but in a state of constant anticipation at the same time. We would kiss and I would feel his hot, sweet breath on my lips and feel both happiness and sadness, simultaneously – pleasure and pain.
I hadn’t felt like that since I was twenty years old, if ever. Young, innocent and free to explore. No walls, or boundaries. Completely open and not afraid to experiment and enjoy each other. It hurt as much as it gave me pleasure, and I would ache for him during, after and before each encounter with him.
He made me, a woman of so many words, speechless; and sometimes unable to form complete sentences. I didn’t want to tell him how I felt but I knew he could tell. And eventually he panicked. We had a fight on of our music nights – in the pub, and with alcohol in our systems – the worst possible way. D made it clear that he wasn’t as emotionally invested in us as I was, and that he wanted all of the things that I had said I didn’t want from and with him – marriage and babies; the dream – and I stupidly suggested that maybe I did want these things with him even though that was not at all what I wanted. But my inner crazy girl took over the conversation – the twenty-year-old girl that existed when I was with him – and she made things much worse.
So, I walked away, went home, twenty-year-old me texted him like a love-struck girl who had just been rejected, and then cried myself to sleep in the same persona. In the morning, when clear heads prevailed and I was my (current aged) self again, I realized that my twenty-year-old self-had surfaced again because he had brought her out in me.
So, I texted him a novel – much like my twenty-year-old self would have done (if we had had cell phones and data back then) – because it was fitting for the circumstances – instead of speaking to him face to face; in part because of the situation and partly because I express myself better in writing than in person, and because what I needed to say would have been too hard to say to if I had to face him and look into his eyes. I explained that I was sorry for what had happened and that I didn’t really want those things but I wanted more than what we had – that I knew that he wanted all of those things and knew it couldn’t be with me – that I couldn’t be the girl that gave him his dream.
I explained that I wanted a partner. Someone who felt the same way about me as I did them. Someone with whom I could be my true and authentic self like I was with him but someone who would reciprocate and make it an equal partnership. Something that had at least a possibility of a future, even if it didn’t come to fruition. What we had was beautiful but it wasn’t enough. I told him that I had felt shame for having settled – for having another physical and sexual relationship without the depth of feeling that I had aspired to have in the next one after having been with S.
And so, I ended it. Before it got too difficult and painful to walk away. Before I gave too much of myself away again. Before I became what someone else wanted me to be again.
And so, it was that I was alone again – but in being so, I realized that all of that time alone had helped me get here – to where I could be myself with someone, and could see when I was selling myself short or not being true to myself and my true feelings. Where I could recognize and act on something that wasn’t fulfilling for me or something that was toxic. I could finally see red flags and could do something about it before it destroyed me again and again. It took a while, but I realized that I felt whole and that the only time in my life when I had truly felt that way was when alone. I finally loved, respected and valued myself!
That is how I knew that, despite how painful it had been to make the decision to say goodbye – how difficult the goodbye, itself had been – that I had made the right decision to end that part of our relationship and let him go in that way. We agreed to go back to being friends and I really hoped that we could maintain that because he had meant so much to me for having been in my life for such a short amount of time. I knew that meant we were to stay in one another’s life in some capacity.
Bumbling Idiots
Looking back at the three connections I had made in the six years since my divorce, I realized a few things; I realized that I was being careful with my heart because it had been broken so many times – but I was also fearful and needed to feel safe because of all of the sexual violence I had experienced throughout my lifetime – beginning as early as childhood.
N had helped me through a dark and difficult time in my life, and helped keep me safe for a time – more than once, and in more than one way – and including keeping me safe from myself. S had been a reason to focus on myself again and had been someone who made me feel desirable again. When I was with S we had a comfortability – we had known one another for a long time and he was from the same ‘brotherhood/sisterhood’ as me. I had dated mostly only those from that ‘blue family’ for so many years after my attacks, harassment and my divorce because I felt that safety and comfortability with them most of them. But was safe and comfortable what I wanted? Safe is necessary – the feeling that you are with someone who will respect boundaries, be an equal partner in the intimacy and not take advantage of you when you when you’re in a vulnerable position. Someone you feel protected by, even though you are more than capable of protecting yourself. I felt most safe with N I also felt safe with both S and D. Safe to be with them. Safe to express the side of myself that made me the most vulnerable.
Comfortable is good, as well. To feel comfortable enough to spend time with someone else, knowing that it might evolve into sex or some other form of intimacy. Comfortable expressing your desires and comfortable enough to continue while the ‘relationship’ goes wherever it is going. Sometimes though, and the least desirable side of ‘comfortable’ means ‘known’ or ‘no desire to change’ – you, or them or your circumstances because at the time it is filling some kind of void – or fulfilling a piece of some kind of need. The problem with this kind of comfortable however, is that often we will settle there. Cozy up into the mundane and comfortably numb because it’s safe and we don’t want to have to step outside that ‘comfort zone’. It’s one of our defence mechanisms.
Change means the unknown – to me it means taking a risk. What we don’t realize is that by staying in this kind of comfortable, is actually riskier behaviour. By staying comfortable we risk never experiencing the passion and beauty that can exist in a real intimate partnership. We need to be uncomfortable long enough to be open and allow ourselves to experience that kind of intimacy.
To experience a partnership that begins as uncomfortable but safe; uncomfortable for the purpose of knowing what we truly want through experimentation. This takes a comprehensive sense of self and self-awareness though. We need to know what we are okay with – understand our own desires and sexuality and preferences. We need to be okay with this element of ourselves, as well before we can venture into the uncomfortable safely, otherwise how will we know what kind of ‘uncomfortable’ is okay, and what the red flags are?
When I started flirting with the idea of exploring D And the possibility of intimacy with him, I was incredibly uncomfortable with the age difference. Anyone that I discussed it with made it clear though, that if I were a man, sleeping with a woman twenty years younger, no one would question it; and that he clearly had the same interest and intentions in and with me. He had opened the page in this new chapter in our adventure and so it was clear he wanted me to actively participate in both reading mine and helping write ours, however that looked and whatever the story ended up being about – or how it ended. D had made me feel young and fun, and most importantly, clean again and had awoken the young me again – the girl who was willing and able to express my feelings and, accept and feel love and intimacy without restraint or resistance.
The three of them, combined embodied what I was looking for within a partner; that, and to feel whole, home and free. But it was only alone that I felt that way and knew that meant that I couldn’t go back to another half-hearted relationship. That, if and when I put myself out there again and considered becoming a part of a relationship that it had to be with someone who made me feel all of the things with them that I finally felt alone. Whole, home, young, fun, free and clean. And, if it didn’t then I wouldn’t bother – I wouldn’t settle ever again and I would always be complete and completely me – alone, with me and with my true and equal partner. Whoever that was. I had no idea where to find that person though so, I thought I would keep an open mind and try different things. Which is why, when my daughter suggested I try a dating app, I thought what the hell and gave it a shot and found “Bumble”.
Bumbling Idiots
I had always been really bad at judging what men wanted from me; before having been alone awhile. Whether it was just sex, or something more. Maybe that’s why, when I had such difficulty finding and keeping healthy relationships. Maybe because I was matching up with the men that only wanted sex. Maybe it was only ever about sex. I had been told several times that there was ‘something about me’ that ‘exuded sexual energy’ but I felt like that meant that I had a giant ‘come fuck me’ sign on my forehead. Suddenly, I had so much unwanted attention and unsolicited perversion sent my way – both with the use of this silly app and within my reality, as well. I started to wonder if I was sending out some kind of vibe. I needed to ask someone I had been with, recently – because I know the young me worked really hard at being sexually desirable but the older me only wanted that for attracting longer term partners who wanted more than just sex.
I had been seeing this beautiful man who, even being twenty years younger than me, was all man – gorgeous, talented, emotionally intelligent and creative. But it wasn’t meant to last. So, I took my daughters advice about the dating app and started talking to a few people and ‘exploring’ – relationship options with other humans; how they interact and what they offer you and you, them. Like letting our inner child out to play with these people and trying to be open to what came next, instead of setting timelines and expectations. But I quickly realized that most of the people on there were only there because they didn’t want to be alone and needed a quick fix and some attention.
Very few were actually expecting to find a real connection or relationship. It was like shopping online for humans but without a good return policy. And, I deleted the first app after 24 hours and the second one after a week.
Social media has broken down communication within society so greatly, that people argue with one another and/or become offended by others posts and comments without understanding the point – the message or intended audience of the posts because we don’t see each other face to face anymore. We don’t speak to issues appropriately if we don’t speak to each other. Unfortunately, even acknowledging this, we still use social media as a means of communication, of staying in contact and ‘connecting’ with others.
We don’t want to see people face to face anymore because we’ve all connected in a disconnected way, and now we use dating apps as a way of finding partners. We spend countless hours communicating via text messages and planning to meet but never do – because we can put our best face on behind a screen but when we meet and connect in person, we have to show our real, unfiltered faces, and that scares the shit out of us for some reason now. The problem with this, is it only serves to make us ultimately, feel more alone than ever – thousands of followers or not. D had been that one person with whom I could talk openly and frankly.
In a Case Like This, I’ll Get Away with It
D and I had started this dance that we were doing in April, by May I had called it off because I ‘valued myself too much’ to let him use me like that. Unfortunately, we had to see one another every Wednesday night and I had a very difficult time both avoiding him and not going home with him. I went through a whole host of reasons why not to see him and how being with him was hurting me, until I finally said, ‘Fuck it’ and added him to my ‘Fuck it List’, as the, ‘why not have this? Just because it’s not going anywhere doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it and them while it lasts.’
Men have casual relationships all of the time. Men date younger women, usually for the same or similar reasons, all the time, as well. Why can’t women do the same thing? Why couldn’t I be as evolved and do the same thing, and allow myself to enjoy pleasure in the moment like I advised others to do? “Fuck it”, I thought to myself, “I want him, I enjoy him and I’m tired of denying myself the pleasure I get when I’m with him, just to make a point”.
So, we talked one night at our regular Jam night and ended up going home together again. We started over again, this time knowing exactly what it was and accepting it as such, and allowing it to be just that. And, for another month or so, we enjoyed one another and our encounters and laid to rest any and all expectations. Until it was time for me to leave for Scotland.