Something I don’t find particularly charming about myself is my need to over-analyze my love-life. Maybe I watched too much Sex and The City as a teenager, or maybe it was the attachment to sappy teen romance novels as a preteen, but somehow I’ve turned into one of those people who always has something to fixate over in regards to their heart. And it annoys the crap out of me.
So lately I’ve tried to dial-back the romance talk on my posts, particularly because who really gives a fuck and two of my exes(?) read this. In hindsight, letting my then present-partners see my blog was not my smartest move. Sure, it was great because they got to get to know me, the real me, without the presence of hormones mucking up my thoughts like they do in real life. But it was naïve because later when they both had their moments of assholery, I couldn’t rant about them in an honest way, like I do to my female friends (and Mom). Even now, post break-up, I still watch what I say about both of them, because the written word can always be held against you.
Yep, Fred and Jessie read my blog. Two of the most important significant others that I’ve had (thank God I never revealed this blog to Charles!) stay updated on my recent ramblings, and included in that package is the ramblings about my love life. Therefore, I sometimes like to avoid the subject, but have trouble since one of my major hobbies is pondering, analyzing, and picking-apart my romantic follies. It’s a predicament entirely of my own making, and probably makes all of you readers with better sense laugh and shake your heads, thinking: “Ah, I’m so glad I’m not that crazy mother-fucker…”
But anyway, on with discussing my love life: So, like usual my current situation is a complicated mess that is the result of me trying to do the right thing, but also being young and stupid. Jessie and I broke it off a few weeks ago, right before shit hit the fan and I decided to quit school. It started with “things aren’t working” and ended with him wanting to date someone else. So naturally, I was pissed, because he was being a complete hypocrite. Ever since I told him we should see other people and quit pretending to be nuns/monks (because hello! we live in two separate countries!), he’d been holding it over my head, saying petty shit like, “Well if you really loved me you wouldn’t want to see other people…” But then there he was, wanting to have a legit, full-blown relationship with some other chick. So I didn’t speak to him for an entire week, had my little mental breakdown, and did some soul-searching. Where are we now? We’re better, but still broken up. Since I’ve got a non-refundable ticket to Central America and still care about him a lot, we’re determined to do the whole friends thing while I visit him for a week later this month. But he still flirts with me and considers us something, so I’m wary. Am I still attracted to him? Yes. Do I think sleeping with him during the week we’ll spend together solve any of our problems? No. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life, and neither do I, and we broke up for some very valid reasons which haven’t changed despite the fact that he “broke up” with his little side-chick. (See?! You don’t “break up” unless you were legit together! Hypocrite!)
Speaking of, you might say, what about your fuck boy that you’ve mentioned? Well, here’s the thing: I started seeing this fella with zero expectations. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life either, and he isn’t into the whole monogamy thing, so we want separate things. Therefore, I was just seeing him casually, going on some dates now-and-then, but not committing to shit. I figured, we like spending time together, so as long as I don’t put him on some sort of boyfriend-potential pedestal it doesn’t matter that we’re seeing each other. But then my grandpa died, and fuck boy was really really nice about it, and then when school was falling apart he was really really nice about that, and the tone of our hanging out changed. I started to trust him, and I think he started to become comfortable with being honest. So now we’re in this place of being best friends, not together, not committed, just enjoying each other in our lives while it lasts…
Yep, the fuck boy is Fred. The same guy I dated for two years who broke my heart into a billion pieces by cheating on me and living two hours away. So you’re probably asking why on earth I’d ever hang out with him again, to which I respond: Look, after a long time of not speaking, Fred and I realized there was still some unresolved things left between us. So rather than go through this huge internal struggle, we just decided to try hanging out a few times and get to know each other all over again. Maybe we’d get along, maybe we wouldn’t, but either way we’d try. And we did. And slowly we became best friends again, confiding in each other about our hopes and dreams and major faults. And despite everything, we’ve accepted each other. So we hang out, and this time we aren’t ruining it by planning a future together or playing the “boyfriend/girlfriend” roles. We just spend time together, simple as that, no monogamy involved. Do I think we’ll run off into the sunset together? Probably not. Like I said, we don’t want the same things, or have any part of our futures figured out. So there it is. All out in the open.
And there’s more, because if you haven’t learned by now, I’m nothing if not complicated. I’ve been on three dates with this girl from Tinder, and I have no clue what is going on. First date was alright, she seemed to like me and was a nice person. I wasn’t sure if I was attracted to her, honestly. Second date was great, we were clicking and I felt something between us. Third date was strange. I was awkward and she was nervous and neither one of us were courageous enough to make a move. I thought I had blown it, really, but now we’ve got a fourth date planned. What she wants from me is a complete mystery, and I have yet to break it to her that I’m soon going to be moving away from college town and therefore can offer her nothing. So like usual, I’m just going with the flow and being a complete jackass.
How do I feel about all of this? Okay I guess…I’m sort of at the point now where all I know is that I’m too fucked up to offer anyone a relationship, so I feel good knowing that Jessie and I are just friends, Fred and I are just friends, and that the Tinder chick and I haven’t hinted at either of our intentions in the slightest. I do feel skeezy about not being straight forward with the Tinder girl, not to mention feeling bad about the inevitable anger of Jessie once he finds out that Mr. Fuck boy is Fred, but Tinder girl is probably better off without me fucking up her life and Jessie will just have to realize that he hasn’t been Mr. Monk-Saint-of-Celibacy either. At the end of the day, I’m still single—belonging to no one but myself and my depression, both of which are making any attempt at a relationship impossible.
So that’s tonight’s post of Something to Make You Feel Better About Your Love Life. Thanks for letting me indulge my self-absorption and divulge my many faults of the heart. See you next week folks, with the a post most likely called Why You Should Never Reveal Anything, Ever.
Sometimes, when I write on here I write for all of you WordPress people reading. I sit and I try and think of things that will matter to you and help you throughout your week, month, maybe even your whole life. But not today, not this post. This post is for me. I need to figure some things out, and those things just aren’t going to be in a nice and neat format with conclusions and introductions and explanations. They are coming straight from my head onto the keyboard:
What the fuck was that? That conversation we had
You went from pulling the maid position, sweeping all of your feelings and reservations under the rug to the prosecutor, airing out all of the things wrong that I made wrong
But where was your evidence?
“Something has changed” “I don’t know what I want” “I just feel like we are different right now” All of this was sprinkled onto the fix-this-mess cake, only where was my fork? Where was my knife? If I’m going to devour this mess I need the tools sitting in your hands and you just aren’t handing them to me
Until, oh get this:
“I think maybe we should try an open relationship again or take a break, because I don’t want things to stay like this.”
WHAT???!?! I’m sorry, WHAT?!?!?!
I was expecting you to put the fork and knife in my hands, not stab it in my fucking brain!
How was this a solution? It was like bombing a building that had the heat on too high…if that fucker is too warm, turn it off or open a window or blast the air conditioning…don’t just blow the whole thing up! And this wasn’t any old building, this was my home. You were bombing my home, our home, because somehow the heat was turned up too high.
“I just didn’t expect you to fall in love with her.”
And you think I did? You think I thought to myself, “Gee, she’s nice, why don’t I just hand over my vulnerability to her on a silver platter and stir the pot in my relationship of two years to the point of spilling?” You think I want my life to be this complicated? You think I want to sort out my feelings like I do laundry every time I come home to you?
I didn’t force you, I didn’t ask for this, you offered it. You told me you could handle this; how do you expect me to react to “something has changed”?
I want to fix it. I want things to be okay, to have that comfortable ease back in our steps and to float through this moment in our relationship with confidence and support. But I don’t want to have to be forced to let you fuck other people or to rip our relationship apart to do that.
That’s another thing, the sex. Stop looking at me like that
Stop saying “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I KNOW it’s okay to say no, it’s MY body. Stop constantly putting your hands all over it and reaching in my pants and breathing hard on my neck when I’m hanging out with my friends or cooking dinner or trying to wash my goddamn hair. Why can’t you just let me come to you, so I can remember what it’s like NOT to feel like I owe you sex
Why does it have to matter so fucking much to you when I don’t want it? It’s not personal, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive or that I don’t love you or that I’ve suddenly become a celibate monk—
It’s that I’m going to be on my fucking period here soon! It’s that my head is somewhere else and my body feels far away and that you aren’t saying what you are really thinking to me, you are just wanting the sex to fix what I didn’t even know was broken….
Until that conversation. That fucking conversation.
If you won’t say what is wrong than I will. What is wrong is that you aren’t talking, not about your feelings, about your life, about what dreams you had last night or what conversations you had with your mom. And what is wrong with me? I got busy, I got my life in a bit of a windstorm but I like it, I like to mix it up now and then. So I’m sorry if I’m not as readily available as I once was. But even though our future is on hold and my dreams are on hold and my heart seems on hold you know what isn’t on hold? NOW. This moment.
I’m so happy, and I want to share it with you. So tell me how to fix it, and if you don’t know than figure it out. Because I miss you and love you and want to get back to that place we were in when we conquered the world together, if that is possible with these new circumstances.
That fucking conversation. It put silence where should have been words.
If there’s one thing in life to be grateful for, its music. Just the fact that I’m alive and can hear it is amazing, a friggin miracle in itself. Music is one of the few things that manages to calm my heart, mind, and soul all at once. I’ve always thought to myself how great it would be to have the job of picking the soundtrack to movies, because I always have this playlist going in my head, a soundtrack to my own life. And finding a new song or new band that you love is like falling in love over and over–to find people who feel exactly like you do sometimes just validates who you are.
But enough of my rambling. The struggle of figuring out my current feelings relationship-wise goes on. I saw my boyfriend over the weekend and it was great. He really is my best friend, someone who has seen every part of me….so nothing about how I feel about him has changed, of course. I still love him, and I know I always will. Saturday night he brought up this whole situation between us about monogamy. He’s trying not to be jealous because he wants whatever is best for me, and knows that even if I see him on weekends he is one seventh of how I spend my time, and that I have this whole other life at school. He knows that jealousy isn’t a logical feeling, that it is “my problem, not yours. You’ve done nothing wrong.” But it’s there. And how do I feel? Well…”When I’m with you I have this really high level of happiness, and when I’m not around you (at school and/or with other people) it goes down. But I don’t know if that’s because I’m necessarily unhappy or just simply less happy.” All I know is that I love him and want to be with him.
As for how I feel about other people, well, I like the freedom of not having to shy away from guys hitting on me, but that doesn’t really mean I like them. In fact, that one guy I was talking to has turned out to be kind of a douche-bag. I haven’t seen him since last Tuesday/little bit of Wednesday and he hasn’t made any effort since. So much for having a friend, even if it was with benefits. The friend part was what sold me, without it I have zero interest. But whatever, I’ve dealt with douche-bags before, and I try not to take it personally.
I feel like this is the time to just focus on me. To listen to music, to go on my runs, to hang out with the girls in my dorm/my classes. Guys aren’t that big of a deal, really. My boyfriend is the one who has my heart, and no one else can touch that, so I shouldn’t take anyone else seriously at all. I need to figure who I am again, and how this new me is going to fit with this new life. This isn’t high school, where I have no control of how my decisions are made. Now is the time for me to explore all genres of life, like I do with music. Not everyday has the same beat, so why should I?
So, here I am, about thirty minutes away from taking a philosophy exam, and am I studying? Nope. Am I thinking of sex? Yup. Gotta love being a human, right? If I was a damn computer I could focus, but instead my mind is buzzing with possibilities. I guess that’s just what happens when you are infatuated with someone.
Well, I shouldn’t say infatuated. Just…curious. And curiosity is dangerous, which is kind of why I like this so much. Every step I take that is closer, is a step that sets me on edge, and I love that feeling. I love it so much I could get addicted to it.
I guess I should explain. See, a week ago I was determined to make a solid guy friend like all the ones I have back home. So I hung out with this guy I met at a party, just studying over some pancakes. I told him about my boyfriend, and he was totally cool with that. And the more he kept talking, the more we kept talking, the more I knew I had to kiss those sweet, full lips. I knew if I was going to be friends with him I would always want him in the back of my mind. So when he dropped me off at my dorm, and he hugged me goodbye, I stayed in the car. I just couldn’t get out. Finally I looked over at him and said, “Please don’t judge me.” Then I leaned over and pulled him toward me until our lips locked furiously. It was taking a giant breath of air after holding it for hours… My entire body felt ALIVE. “This can never happen again, okay?” I said to his eyes, those huge blue eyes, after I pulled away. “Okay,” he said back, and then I dove straight back into his arms. In that car, we were safe from the outside world, the decisions that were considered “right” and “wrong”. I never wanted to leave, but in the back of my mind my boyfriend was haunting my thoughts. “Fuck!” we both said, realizing again that yes, there was a boyfriend in the picture. I got out of the car and was shaking as I walked up the stairs into my dorm. Once I closed the door to my room behind me, reality came crashing down. It was only a few kisses, but it wasn’t at the same time.
Fast forward a week. Here I am. And I’ll be seeing him tomorrow night. But what about my boyfriend, right? Well, over my birthday weekend my boyfriend was super sweet to me. A real saint, making small talk with my parents, joking around with my friends…and all I could think about was having to tell him we needed time apart, to not be so serious. He was a saint, and I was a dick. I was really struggling that whole weekend, lots of crying, lots of smoking up some leftover high school habits. It’s pretty safe to say it was the wort birthday I’ve ever had. But I hate my birthday, anyway, so I don’t really give a shit. Anyway, one day while I was at work I wrote my boyfriend a sort-of break up letter that explained how I needed us not to be so serious. So that night on my birthday, I gave him the letter. And he read it, and he understood.
But let’s clarify some things: see, if I hadn’t met that one guy over pancakes I would still be in this big, serious committed relationship, and eventually someone else would have come along and did what this one poor bastard did–which was made me realize how I don’t want to look back on these four years of college wishing I had done something else. It’s the things you don’t do that you regret, and if I am meant to be with my boyfriend I will find my way back to him. But for now, I’m not taking my chances on regretting not being the average college student. I’ve never been around so many available guys to date, and to tell myself to stay away has so far limited my experience to just being friends with girls, to not drinking, to not staying at school on the weekends and hanging out with people here. I just…Look, I don’t want to be an asshole, but I can’t ever get this time of my life back again, you know? This is the time to be young, free, and celebrate life…I can’t pass that up.
So here I am, maybe making a big mistake, maybe a big opportunity for something great, but either way I will learn a lesson I know I need to learn… Is this the right the right time for love, or is timing never an issue for love?
Over the years, after my many mishaps and ridiculous affairs, I’ve come to believe that no relationship is permanent. That’s pretty easy to accept when people have left you alone…it softens the blow and lets you believe it’s not always your fault. But let’s actually think about it. Your relationships with your parents can become incredibly strained, if not broken. Friends can be lost with the passing years, and romance is only alive when sustained. And if all that fails, there’s the knowledge that someday we’ll all die, as bitter as it sounds. My point is, if this is acknowledged by a person, why does it still hurt so much when someone leaves us? Ding ding ding! It’s our emotions!! Oh, yeah, those things.
Someone can say the magic of “I really care about you,” “I love you,” “I’ll always be there for you,”. But no one can make them last forever. It’s always alive in moments, and the more time passes in between that moment and the present it can betray you.
Lately I’ve been wishing Landon hadn’t said all those sweet things to me. First of all, it sucks to kiss and hold someone you cannot be with, because of a stupid reason like, “we are both so busy that we would never get to see another enough.” It’s not fair, and it hurts to accept, especially every time you are close with them. However, you know what sucks more? When they are completely oblivious to your existence from then on, and no longer make that much of an effort to talk to you. Yeah, um, asshole, I thought you told me we would be there for each other and be “great friends”. What the hell happened to that idea?!
Because of my lack of time and lack of solution to this hurt, I’m going to keep this post shorter than usual. All I want to know is how someone can do such a thing, no matter how shy they are. This is a guy I’ve known for years, and I know he is not mean-spirited enough to just use someone… But is it possible that he’s really changed his mind? The possibility of that hurts, but what hurts more is the memory of him saying he’d always be there for me, would never want to hurt me….because he hasn’t and he did.