Two Steps Back

August 6th, 2014

I find it difficult to be the person I want to be when it comes to love. While I can be a good worker, friend, sister, daughter, advice giver and supporter, the person I am when it comes to love is less than. Less than what? Less than the person I want to be, I guess.

When I was with my ex-husband, reason and logic went out the window as we ushered in screaming, choking, door slamming, running out of the house, throwing our rings at each other as we threatened divorce fights. It got better, it did. Had we stayed together, I am sure we would have eventually gotten to a healthy place. I really do believe that. But in the middle of things, the intensity of the emotion I felt overtook the reasonable part of me.

I like to think that I’ve progressed since my divorce. Even my interactions with my friends are better. I feel less frustrated, stuck, drowning and angry as a whole. That certainly contributes or will contribute to a healthier relationship.

But I guess there is still progress to be made when it comes to not letting my feelings take me over. I don’t want to be one of those people who becomes wholly consumed by whatever relationship or feelings they’re currently experiencing. And yet I do. I hate it, but I do it.

It’s so easy to think about the person you want. And it’s okay when you know they’re thinking of you, when you talk frequently. But I find myself feeling utterly dejected when I develop feelings for someone and they don’t return them, or we can’t speak. I know how much love works like a drug. It’s an addiction — albeit, a lesser one. I realize that speaking to the bartender is akin to a hit, that it gives me a high. And a lack of communication sends me spiraling downward similarly to anyone who isn’t able to get their next hit.

I hate it. I see what’s happening. I know I should do better, but nothing I try to do or think rationally seems to combat it.

Right now? It’s kind of unbearable. I haven’t seen the bartender in 2 months. It’s the longest we’ve gone this year. While things were sweet and awesome, he’s become distant. Logically, he’s busy and flighty. Paranoid-ly, he’s avoiding me or somehow hates me. And not talking to him makes it more difficult not to see him.

Bleh.

I hate talking about this. I hate how I sound whiny. I hate how it’s the same thing every freakin’ time. I know people don’t want to hear about it and, worst of all, I recognize that this misery is because I won’t walk away. So I fully feel as though I have no right to feel any of these things.

But perhaps what is scarier is that this situation — as awkward and painful as it may sometimes be — has reawakened in me the desire to be something other than single the rest of my life. That desire is so strong that it scares me sometimes, and it feels like it directly competes with how I need to think to be happy. Because at the end of the day, there is no guarantee of love or relationships, and I cannot survive simply by convincing myself that those things are somehow achievable. This cannot be my only tenet of faith.

But boy does my heart want it to be.

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Categories: The Bartender

He’s A Good Guy

March 17th, 2014

I know that I shouldn’t respond this way but when someone talks about her boyfriend, her fiance, her husband, her partner, and all she has to say is that he’s a good guy, I expect a “but.”

Because being a good person is good. I mean, the word “good” is directly there. However, it just sounds so.. lackluster. Like they’re talking about a piece of furniture and not the person that they are committed to in a long-term relationship.

I want to hear about how a person feels and what that person means to them. Is he good to you? Does he make your heart pitter-patter? Is the sex amazing? I am logical in every other avenue of life, but I just can’t be when it comes to love.

There is a logical part of me that understands contentment and reliability, but I don’t think that I could ever personally settle for that.

Perhaps it is all semantics. Perhaps these people are more reserved than I tend to be when describing how someone makes me feel.  It could just be that they aren’t used to talking about themselves or perhaps they don’t want to bore me with the details, but I like details. I like specifics, and I don’t enjoy vagueness or put-on “mystery”.

Maybe I want to hear a person’s smile in their voice when they tell me about their partner and all about how happy they are. I have no poker face. What you see is what you get, and my heart is on my sleeve. I don’t understand people who don’t operate like that. Nor do I think that I would ever want to. Because it makes people happy when I am happy and sad when I am sad and, yes, maybe a little annoyed when I am over-the-top in love. But there’s never any doubt that the person I love is more than a good guy — he’s the best I could want!

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Categories: Everything Else

Statistics

March 1st, 2014

There are 7 billion people on this planet. And even though I haven’t met all of them — I can’t possible meet all of them in a single lifetime — there’s only one person who makes me feel like you do. Out of everyone who I’ve ever met, there’s only you who has made me feel

  • Safe
  • Accepted
  • More myself

I cannot say that others haven’t come close. Or that someone else might make me feel the same. Or that someone might even do it better. I am not a fortune teller but, as of this very moment in time and space, you are one in 7 billion.

And I don’t even think you realize this.

Without you, I am less me.

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Categories: Dating, The Bartender

You First

November 21st, 2013

I never say “I love you” first. I always say it in reply to someone else. This is probably for a couple reasons.

I fight falling in love. I fall too quickly, so the logical part of my argues with myself. “This can’t be love.” Eventually, it tuns to “Well, it’s not going away. Maybe this is love.” Eventually I resign myself to the fact that I am in love. “Fuck. It’s love. Now what?”

There’s also a safety in being the second person to say those three “little” words. I’ll let you bare yourself first, thank-you-very-much. Because waiting for someone else gives me time to figure myself out. It also means I don’t have to be vulnerable first. While I want someone with whom I can be vulnerable, I’m ultimately more afraid of rejection. If I let you go first, it’s okay to say “I love you.”

This all ties into the fact that I come off as reserved when it comes to things that I love. Music, movies, TV, games.. it’s all the same. You wouldn’t know that I am OMG obsessed with something unless you know me really well. I keep my cool. I keep my cool because it helps me retain control or, perhaps, the illusion of control. Because I can’t control anything else, only the way that I react. So I’m not going to throw myself at someone. At least, I’m going to try my very best not to. And when I find that control slipping, I feel angry at myself. So if I’m going to lose control and have a frivolous, emotional outburst such as “I love you”.. it really has to be a safe place.

This is partly due to the fact that I have expressed love — of people and things and ideas — and I’ve been made of for it. I’ve received flack from people whom I loved, from the very people who I expected that I wouldn’t have to be reserved around. Nothing hurts quite like the hurt from the person to whom you said “I do.” And maybe it’s not necessarily healthy or helpful to keep my cool, to hide parts of me. When I say it like that, it’s obvious that it’s all some sort of defense mechanism.

Even now, I think I owe the bartender an announcement of “I love you,” but I can’t quite put my finger on “Why?” and I certainly haven’t figured out the “How?” It all seems so sudden, so abrasive when I have to say it first.

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Categories: Everything Else

Every Broken Heart Feels Like the First Time

July 3rd, 2013

I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know if there’s a beginning. I’m caught up in the middle of it all. I’ll start with what I feel the most.

I miss you. I miss your voice. I miss your stories. I miss 3:30 in the morning phone calls. I miss you just showing up out of nowhere. I miss walks in the dog park, trips to Wal-mart. I miss you just being there.  A text, a phone call, a Facebook message away.

The truth is, you’ve always meant so much to me, so much more than I ever let on. And maybe that was my fault, but when I realized that there could be something more, it suddenly all made so much sense. There wasn’t any stopping it because someone had finally tore down the damn. I was victim to the flood that followed but I didn’t care. I was enjoying the ride.

If I’m going to continue with this analogy, I guess I now feel like I am floating downriver. Somewhere along the way, you got out of the boat, but this is a two-person job. I can’t do it without a partner, and I was so ready to finally have one again. I saw in you someone I could trust, someone who I could open up to. I was ready to share the load and see where we could go together.

And now you’re gone. I’m alone. I was preparing for this journey, and I just want you back even if all we do is stand in ankle deep water trying to regain our footing. Even if we get out of this rive and climb a mountain instead. Even if all we do is send smoke signals across the distance. I need to know that you’re still there. I need to know that I mean something to you, that we did. I know that you cared. I know that you just don’t know how to care enough or in selfless ways. I know that your flaws are not my own, but it’s so easy to forget.

And part of me wonders if I don’t find it and sooner rather than later, will I ever find the path? If I couldn’t make you stick around, why would anyone? Am I not worthy enough? Am I really not a good person like I think I am? Am I so easy to walk away from? Could you ever have felt the way you said you did? Was there something more that I could do? How could you leave knowing what it would do to me? How could I let you in knowing that you would?

And perhaps most importantly, how could something feel so right if it was wrong? Why am I always wrong? Why am I attracted to the impossible? Why does it always seems like it’s just within reach but prove to be so far out of my grasp? Why does what’s available never appeal to me? Am I setting myself up for failure? How can I ever trust myself if it always seems to turn out like this?

This crippling self doubt isn’t real. I know that I feel it whenever I’m in the middle of things. I know that I will come out of the other side stronger just like I knew before I would when I let myself fall in love with you. Part of me just feels like I have no right to feel this way when I knew the risk, but I do still. And maybe I need to learn that it’s okay.

I’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. Maybe even better. I’ve been down this road before. I’ve picked up and set off on a new path. I just need to take it one step at a time along the way and right now maybe I just need to let myself feel a little. Right now I feel sad. Angry. Hurt. Frustrated. But I feel, and this means I am alive to try again another day. And I will, with or without you. But your copilot seat will be open for some time should you wish to join me again.

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Categories: Dating, The Bartender

Hideaway

June 11th, 2013

I know that you want to run away, hide from the world. I just want you to run to me, to hide in me. Go ahead, bury yourself, that most intimate part of yourself, deep inside me. I’ll hide and protect you, shower you with love. I can shield you from your pain and show you all the pleasures the world has to offer.

Perhaps my words are too veiled. Let me speak plainly to benefit us both. I will be here, open to you always. My heart will always have space and I will welcome you into my sweet embrace. Between my legs you’ll find that warmest place, the place where you belong. I only want you to stop long enough to call it home.

I want to pierce your heart enough to fill it with my love, but you, you can penetrate my body enough to leave me bruised but not broken, begging for more but not poor. If you’d like, you can choke, restrain, pull and bend me. If it helps the hurt, there’s nothing you can’t do against me.

And as every part of you mingles with me, I’ll find in you my own safety net, a place where I can let go, shaking, crying, moving in that way I can’t control. I’ll surrender myself to you if only you can pull me to you. And if you’d like, I’ll come for you, your safe place from the world.

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Categories: Everything Else, The Bartender

State of the Union Address

June 9th, 2013

Amid my site going down for a little bit, I didn’t have much of a chance to talk about my short-live relationship, if we can even call it that. One late night, the bartender showed up. We cuddled, we talked, we had sex. It may be the best sex we’ve yet had because it felt the most intimate. During the course of the night, we talked circles around making us official, with neither one of us being bold enough to approach the topic.

So, as our bodies pressed close together and sex became imminent, I simply said that we were no longer going to be single. His acquiescence was something anyone could have seen coming. He agreed he was “mine and mine alone.” It’s a phrase he’s used several times, and it’s cute. In fact, the very verbalizing of this initiated both the strongest and most unexpected orgasm I’ve had with him. It came out of nowhere, and there wasn’t even any clitoral stimulation, so that was a pleasant surprise.

Sex progressed to the first time I was on top, and he held me so incredibly close as he came. It was physically and emotionally satisfying in a way that I haven’t experienced in years, and we cuddled for a bit before he had to leave.

Everything went downhill from there, however. I was happy for a few days, changed my relationship status and let people know about my recent status change. I didn’t hear from him for over a week then. Unfortunately, last week was my birthday, and I was looking forward to being able to celebrate with my boyfriend.

After a week of no communication and a couple nights of serious drinking, I finally called him drunk. Fortunately, he didn’t answer. Not so fortunately, I left a message. Twice. In the first, I accused him of being an asshole for not responding. In the second, I expressed remorse for our relationship being over because I thought I was in love with him.

I immediately regretted not only the calls but making them in front of everyone. As soon as I woke up the next day, I sent a text to apologize. He hadn’t yet heard the messages, so I told him to delete them. We discussed how it’s not cool that he disappears but that’s how he “deals.” I told him that, as his friend, he knows he can let me in. I wanted to help. We decided that he needs to get his shit straightened out before he can be in a relationship, and I don’t disagree. I just wish he was stable enough to be in one now, with me.

The conversation ended shortly after my promising that I would be his friend no matter what and with the suggestion that sex was still an option because we have such an enjoyable time together. It’s fun, comfortable and hot. I think of him every time I am horny. I just can’t help it.

We haven’t spoken much sense, but I feel a bit closer. I am glad that our friendship is in tact, as glad as I am sad that we’re only friends. However, I don’t necessarily feel that we can’t approach the topic again in the future.

Many people don’t understand why I am still his friend, let alone wanting more. They don’t know what I see in him, but I understand that he’s well intentioned but misguided. I can’t help but feel as though he’s so close to reaching out. We are friends, first and foremost, and I want to be there when he does. It’s no small sacrifice, but my will isn’t small.

So, now I am single but hopeful. I am experiencing less turmoil than I have for some time, but that’s for another post.

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Categories: Dating, The Bartender

Image © MisterUnlucky; used with permission.