chock full of more self-revealatory overshare

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Can I claim temporary insanity on the last post? Similar to when I don’t shave to keep myself from sex on a date, I had a long email conversation that night with my once (and future?) selfish sex friend that ensured he’ll be turned off for the near future.

Actually, we just had an honest conversation and I expressed the same depths of insecurity and longing I did here. It was good. He’s selfish and I’ve excused it in the past, mostly because when I’ve been with him I’ve been selfish too. He’s not an asshole and I enjoy(ed?) his company. And his beautiful, enthusiastic anatomy.

BUT I don’t think I’m seeing him in the near future because (after Sex Meltdown 2013) I just might finally be free of the impulse that I have always had- ie, any rejection in any area of life -> must obtain validation -> most efficient and easy way -> SEX.

A million two years ago, when my then-fiance ended our relationship, that is exactly what I did (WITH THIS SAME GUY EVEN) and, frankly, it worked and I did the more difficult emotional work later.

A very short time ago, I met someone truly awesome who I really like and it seems that it was this potential great thing that never came close to happening, despite that I wanted it to. But I’m not high with a charming, naked man in my room, pleasuring away the discomfort.

Maybe because I went into work Friday and was really, seriously moved by the support I have there, even when things are sucky. Maybe because I had class today and it was super interesting, actually fun, and really gratifying.

I do have perspective. I have this full life and all this potential. (I’M JUST THE BEST AND MOST AMAZING ZEN PERSON AREN’T I! Gross.)

But whatever, my vag is back online, minus the sadness, cause I’m going to get mine. Just on my terms.

I’m sure this is typo-laden but I’m bed bound.

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and all is right with the world

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I’ve reached a level of frustration with the new person I met and was so excited about so that feels very comfortable and familiar!

I was confident that we both wanted to get! to! know! each! other! and spend time together and just see. Then the last two weekends have put a damper on that idea. Being busy is something I understand, having obligations, yeah. But don’t find pockets of time (e.g., a weeknight, after your child is asleep – I never felt compelled to sneak into someone’s bedroom as a teenager and don’t now – or an hour or two that we can meet up someone) where you are available and would like to see me just so we can fuck. It very well might be my problem. I very much wanted to have sex with this person again and do all manner of things and he is not wrong on the face of it to suggest that we do that.

 

But like, GOD. DAMN. IT. If that’s the best I have to offer or all you can make time for then, yes, I will feel let down. I will be nervous about engaging anymore and developing feelings to find out later that sexually things are amazing and that is the extent of your interest. I will be hurt by that. I’m a little hurt now.

 

Am I crazy and ridiculous to feel slighted? We are just maybe not on the same page. I am so great at being fatalistic but, maybe this was a few fantastic dates that never would become anything.

 

I don’t think I have to play stupid games about how soon after meeting I “let” someone get into my pants. I don’t want to. I don’t have any interest in the kind of man that buys into those rules. I want to do what feels natural and I also want to know that there’s serious sexual chemistry before I’m invested. But if I am sexual, it’s like there’s this other fucking set of confusing expectations. I don’t/didn’t know this guy well enough to feel secure in the idea that he is interested in me in any other way than sexually, so for me, that creates this specific nagging fear that (like so many past sexual partners have indicated) I’m a great lay and that’s the best part of me.

 

The more I try to articulate this the more I can see it is my fucking baggage. I don’t care. I know what I need to feel comfortable, during the beginnings of things, and if I’m not getting it then I guess that’s that.

infatuated

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Hamlet has obtained fleas. It’s very unfortunate and frustrating because he is an indoor cat. Also because, gross.

I’m working a short week this week because of the holiday. It has been pretty incredibly sucky. Apparently, it is a bad idea for me to use my vacation time. Or, it’s a good idea if I enjoy returning to do a bunch of shit that other people should have been able to handle in my absence in addition to the regular shit I do, which is too much for one person on its own. Oh but don’t worry, I’m paid very little.

 

Despite those two issues (three including being slightly poor), I’m so fucking happy right now. I’m like IN TROUBLE in regard to this new fellow because I am 1) very smitten and 2) very anxious about being this vulnerable. I would say I’m experiencing 90% glee and excitement and 10% terror. It’s so new and maybe that’s why it’s fun.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been so excited about somebody this soon. That is a lie. I definitely have not been this excited about somebody this soon. I want to just see him and cuddle him and cook dinner for him and learn how to knit and make him a sweater. [Forget fleas, I’m gross.]

So fuck. That is scary. But I’m going to be fine no matter what. I have the rest of my life together in an unprecedented way. In reality being open to this person is not brave, it is just what people do, but I feel brave.

 

your (break up) mileage will vary

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Thinking about the (FAINT) possibility of new romance today got me thinking about my dead one. It has been just over a year now since my one and only break up / major life upheaval. I’m at peace now with it, but it was a process.

It wasn’t fun and it makes me wonder about people I know who have been through this more than once. Like…holy shit, human beings are tough to keep chasing love and offering up their hearts up for breaking. Of course, who doesn’t want to be in love?

Strange, maybe, but it’s kind of a faraway memory for me, the specifics anyway. I know that it felt pretty awesome, I can imagine how it would be with someone else, but I don’t remember how it felt to love Rob specifically, though I did. I don’t remember how that relationship felt while I was in it. Intellectually, I know how it was, but without the emotion attached, it’s just not real to me. That’s a blessing. (Not because he sucked, or the relationship sucked, just because I’m living a life that is so far removed from him and there’s no benefit to dwelling.)

I would say it took a good six months for me for the wound to be really closed. Six months for me to genuinely not care about what he was or was not doing, and for me to grieve and stop being sad. Six months for me to find some footing and feel secure, emotionally and practically.

Between three-six months for me to stop feeling the need to fuck as many people as possible. (This is an area where Dan Savage gives good advice. A return to slutiness distracted me, occupied my time, helped my confidence, and helped me put very necessary distance between me and the ex.)

Nine months for me to get over the anger. (Or whenever the wedding dress communication was, heh… maybe that was more recent.) Truthfully, if he is mentioned or if I happen to think of any of it, I’m not angry anymore. It was probably soon after that or a result of that feelings explosion but one day the anger just seemed to have disappeared. It’s done and I’m ok and I don’t want to live my life resenting someone who is not even a part of it.

After one year, I feel very ok. Somehow that realization is surprising. If you had asked me last June, I would say six, nine, twelve months is just too long. Too much sad or too much baggage or too much suffering. But like many other things, when you come out the other side, it just is.

I don’t know what I’d be like without those four years. I can’t say I’m grateful for all of it but I can appreciate that I loved someone and I learned some stuff. It is not a given that I’ll love another person that much, but because I am infected with the same sick human impulse that most everybody else seems to have, I will be open to the possibility. I might get lucky.

please buy my motherfucking wedding dress, somebody

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It’s beautiful. Brand new. A steal. And it’s been sitting in my would-have-been-in-law’s basement for over a year, waiting to be sold for half of that time. It is the only material property that we have left between us and so needs to get sold. (I really wish I had my kitten with me, I should have fought that fight, but there’s nothingIcandoaboutthatnow and, otherwise, everything in that condo could burn down and I wouldn’t care.)

See, (if I believed in him) I (would) praise Jesus that I did not get married (to this particular individual). Sometime around November, I turned a corner. I settled into this new life and accepted, even appreciated, the whole break up fiasco.

No longer am I: brokenhearted, sad, wounded, or at all surprised by his insensitivity/general disregard for me.

The only feelings he inspires in me now, stated with confidence after just recently being exposed to said individual, are: blinding rage (my face actually turned a different color), annoyance, and mild to moderate insecurity (insofar as I really hate for people to exist in the world who dislike me and I am bothered by the fact that someone who knew me so well has seemingly not expressed a favorable opinion of me since 2010).

Look, I would have liked to have had a healthy break and maintained some semblance of a friendship. I thought with time that it might have been possible. Other people have managed to do that after all but OH I WAS SO NAIVE.

I don’t wish bad things for him (though I certainly spent time in the past doing that) and so I’m a tiny bit proud of myself. His life and happiness don’t make my life and happiness less (though it’s one thing to know that intellectually and another to feel it). I think the insecurity will fade through meditation and continued reassurances from my loved ones that I’m not Godzilla. I don’t get angry very much now, so the rage isn’t too inconvenient of a thing to deal with.

No worries. Just, internet, please buy a dress so that I don’t have this unfinished business out there in the world. It’s really very nice. And probably not infected with bitterness and disappointment.