Dating Story #11 - When Exes Tell You About Their Sex Lives
This one isn't funny. It's about a guy, his blog, and how I felt reading about him sleeping with some chick.
There is one guy I dated about whom I haven't written any off-beat, irreverent posts because there was nothing funny about "us". I really cared, and he really broke my heart. I knew he would, from the day I met him, and yet I trudged onward, fearlessly, accepting that it would unfold that way. I was unapologetically myself, all my intensity and corniness and positivity... I let him see it all. I didn't edit. I was confidently myself, with all of my strengths and so very many flaws. I think there was a freedom in knowing he was going to leave me, a freeedom to just let it all be, simply because I knew we wouldn't last. I was grateful for every moment he spared me, and I still don't regret it. There was something about him that immediately got under my skin and stuck, and I can't explain it -- I cared about him with utter abandon. He was "magic", and while he'd laugh at the silly sentiment, I really don't care. He was, and I'm not sorry to say it.
We are still friends. I have a tremendous amount of respect for him, and probably more faith in him than he has in himself -- actually, that's not correct. I know I have more faith in him than he has in himself. I miss his company, his absolutely sick sense of humor, his vulnerability hidden under the thick patina of "what the fuck ever". I saw him clearly, perhaps too clearly. He was as terminally human as the rest of us, horribly wounded for reasons even he couldn't explain, and played an emotional shoving-match game with me. He wanted to let himself go... but he couldn't. The fact that I could was frightening as well.
Tonight I happened to see that he'd blogged, and I read it, as I always do. It was all about how he recently slept with someone. He was reasonably detailed about it. After I read it, I sat back and I thought for a moment. I asked myself why it didn't upset me to think of him with someone else. I've managed to stay friends with almost all of my exes, but to be honest, I just don't want to know if they are with someone else. I mean, it just feels weird to hear, you know? But for some reason, reading the blog just didn't get to me the way I thought it would.
Something is different about him, and perhaps about me, now, too. I think that despite all that transpired between us, he changed me for the better. It hurt that he didn't want to see me anymore. But somehow, the things I gained from him far outweigh the things I lost. I think it is the gratitude for the lessons he taught me that makes it... well, I just want him to be happy. Would I go out with him again if he asked? No (he wouldn't anyway, believe me). He would never really appreciate me the way I want to be appreciated. He's intimidated by my unvarnished positivism, by the juxtaposition of my attitude with my the crazy things I've lived through, just like so many others have been. There is something terrifying about people who are unsinkable regardless of what happens to them, and I get that. He... well, perhaps he doesn't have the same faith I do, but I believe that in the end, he will find the things that make him happy. Somehow, reading that he's moved on didn't make me sad in the way I thought it would. It made me happy for him. I still say a prayer for him every day, and spare a kind thought for him. I hope he learned things from me, too, because I am edified simply for the experience of him.
But as for the other exes... I hope they keep their love lives to themselves. I *so* don't want to know. EW!
... Sorry this one wasn't funny. :-/