love games
Okay guys. Damnit. I AM POSTING. I don't care that I have a metric fuckton of work to do, I need to post. I have shit to discuss, and I require y'all's opinions on matters of a kind of personal nature.
This is going to be about my love life, or rather, my lack of one. I have a lot of new people on my flist, so I'm going to take a moment to explain a little of my past love story and my philosophy on romantic relationships. Those of you who have gone here for a while, feel free to skip to the Good Stuff.
So, in 1999 (yes, 10 years ago, omfg I'm old!) I fell in love with this guy, Matt. I was 18, I was in my first year of college, and I was a straight-edge virgin who'd never smoked or drank or did anything worse than breaking curfew (but only when it was out of my control). So I fell in love with Matt, and the only problem was, I was already dating this other guy back in Ohio, an amazing guy who I'd known since my first day of high school, who I'd been friends with for five years and dated about half that time. Well, I broke up with him to be with Matt. Who then had all sorts of weird emotional issues over the summer before we actually got together, and in general fucked with me until I couldn't see straight anymore. He also took my virginity when he visited me on his way from Maine to Chicago to head back to school early for orientation (he was an orientation aide). And yes, I mean TOOK. Which messed with me even more, because even though I said no, I a) convinced myself I wanted it because otherwise that would mean I'd been raped, and I really didn't want to believe that, and b) decided that the only way to make (a) true would be if we actually dated.
The problem was, right after the Sex, he told me that he wasn't sure he wanted to date anyone at all. And I mean RIGHT AFTER. Like... minutes after. It was kind of horrible? And it fucked with me even more. Here I was, this straight-edge virgin girl who didn't believe in God but did believe in some things, one of them being that I didn't want to regret my first time having sex, which Matt knew about, but apparently didn't consider when HE decided that we should fuck.
Anyway, long story short, I finally convinced him we should date, and we did. For three years. As you can imagine, it wasn't the most equal of relationships. It was mostly about me trying to convince him and myself that he really wanted to be with me. I truly hate the weak, pathetic girl I was when I was with him. I felt inadequate in every way with him, but especially sexually, because while I had done a lot of stuff with my boyfriends in high school, I'd never had sex with them, and I wasn't Matt's first, which he reminded me of many times by describing all the wild experimentation he did with his high school girlfriend.
Anyway, three years later we broke up, and I watched all the episodes of Buffy where Angel goes evil and she kicks him in the balls and destroys Big Blue with the rocket launcher and "Becoming" with the sword and all that, and I cried and cried and did a lot of prescription drugs (leftover percoset from my knee surgery) and went into a long slut spiral that lasted a couple years and included a lot of bad choices, like roommates and ex-boyfriends' brothers and hot boys I met that night and poets who were overly fond of getting me drunk on gin and grapefruit juice, two disgusting things that manage to taste delicious together.
And then I moved to Austin, three years post-break up. I was 25 and I hadn't had a relationship with anyone since Matt. There were people I fucked regularly, but I never allowed myself to get emotionally involved. I was also half-convinced that I just wasn't good enough for anyone to love. I was the girl people would sleep with, but didn't want to date. A few months post-move, I met a guy. Daud. And I decided to try dating. I decided not to sleep with him the first night we met, even though that was kind of my MO at the time. I waited, I got to know him. We dated. It was interesting, because it made me realize that I actually hated dating.
Daud was nice, and sweet, and we had excellent chemistry (although I think we were both on the very submissive side, and he pushed me to be more dominant, which made me realize that I am really really not into being dominant in any way). But he was always wanting to hang out, wanting to spend time with me, wanting to touch me, wanting to talk to me on the phone, etc etc.
And... I wasn't into that. For as much as I had told myself I wanted a relationship, I wanted to actually DATE people instead of just fucking them, when I actually was dating someone, I kind of hated it. In the almost 4 years since Matt had broken up with me to date Miss Perfect Lindy (that's another story, don't ask!!), I had become someone new. Someone who liked spending time alone with just myself, who valued the freedom of being single over the obligations that came with dating, and who most of all liked NOT worrying about what some guy thought of me or if I was pretty enough or sexy enough or smart enough or whatever.
So I decided that I was done with dating. Not forever, but for the foreseeable future, and I haven't dated or had sex with anyone since, which is going on four years now. I am a much happier person alone, because I am just myself and I don't let anyone else's wants or needs or desires or screwed up emotional stuntedness change me into someone I hate, someone who alters her entire way of being just to please someone else.
So now I finally get to my point (hi, scrollers, HI!), which is basically--I think I might like someone? And I did make out with this person a little, but I didn't sleep with them, and now it's just like I always dreaded over the past 4 years of On Purpose Not Dating: self-doubt. I started wondering if they really like me, or if they just wanted to fuck me, or if they were just drunk and I happened to be there. And I started wondering about my sex issues, because anyone who dates me will have to understand where I come from sexually, my... particular needs when I'm having sex with someone on a regular basis, which are basically that in order to feel sexy and to be able to relax and enjoy myself (while sober), I need to be dominated to a certain extent, sort of... relieved of responsibility in a way. And it's not really a sex thing that the majority of people I've been with are into as a long-term deal. Most people find it pretty off-putting, actually.
But at the same time, I wonder if I'm holding back with this person not because I love being alone so much, but because I don't want to talk about my sex issues, or because I don't want to have to deal with any disappointment that might come from them being turned off by How I Am. Or maybe I'm just scared to let anyone get that close to me again, because of how badly I was hurt before, so I set aside anyone I might actually be able to care about romantically out of fear, and instead surround myself with people I love as friends but know I could never fall in love with. (That's not really a maybe, that's a definitely. I protect myself in that way, and the idea of allowing myself to care about someone like I did with Matt makes me want to puke.)
It's easier to be alone. I'm happy alone. But I hate the idea that I would deny a possibility out of fear, both of being hurt like I was before, and also of becoming the person I was when I was with Matt. And then, too, I don't think I should reject this person based on some convoluted idea that I'm saving them the trouble of finding out exactly how crazy I really am.
Anyway. I don't even know if anything will ever come of this, so it's kind of silly to debate myself about the issue. But it's maybe important for me to think about, too. Am I really committed to never having a relationship again? Can I really deny everyone who's interested in me the opportunity to show me that dating doesn't have to be this terrible, stressful, emotional whirlwind that transforms me into a slavish podgirl? I just don't know. I feel like happiness is such a tenuous thing, and now that I've finally found a way of being that works for me and maintains my happy state, I just can't decide if it's worth the risk to change this system that seems to work for me. I spent so much of my teen years being depressed and grieving for my father and my relationships and my lost friendships that these past four years of happiness and freedom and really figuring out who I am and finding out that I actually love the person I am--it's been a revelation to me. I think more than the idea of being hurt by someone, I'm afraid of losing that delicate balance and of falling into a depression and of losing my sense of self and my pleasure with who I have become.
So, I don't know. What do you guys think? I'm not upset, you know? It's just that this situation with this person has made me think about these things and actually question them for the first time since I made the decision to be alone. I also wonder if I'm maybe just feeling some cultural pressure to have a relationship. Our culture values heterosexual relationships and is afraid of homosexual and poly relationships, but it just sort of ignores Singledom as if it's not a natural state for a person to choose. Almost everyone I know is in some sort of relationship; a lot of my friends are having babies and buying houses as couples and that sort of thing. It's not something I want (especially the babies part, urgh), but it's hard to ignore the idea of coupledom in this culture, especially now, with all the Prop8/gay marriage/defense of "traditional" marriage blah blah stuff going on. So I feel like it's possible that I'm only questioning my chosen Singledom because of this cultural emphasis on Couples, and all the examples appearing in my life at the moment, and not because I *actually* like this person or want to change the nature of our association, as Doc Holiday would say.
And that is all. It's too much as it is! Back to work. Sigh. So much work.
This is going to be about my love life, or rather, my lack of one. I have a lot of new people on my flist, so I'm going to take a moment to explain a little of my past love story and my philosophy on romantic relationships. Those of you who have gone here for a while, feel free to skip to the Good Stuff.
So, in 1999 (yes, 10 years ago, omfg I'm old!) I fell in love with this guy, Matt. I was 18, I was in my first year of college, and I was a straight-edge virgin who'd never smoked or drank or did anything worse than breaking curfew (but only when it was out of my control). So I fell in love with Matt, and the only problem was, I was already dating this other guy back in Ohio, an amazing guy who I'd known since my first day of high school, who I'd been friends with for five years and dated about half that time. Well, I broke up with him to be with Matt. Who then had all sorts of weird emotional issues over the summer before we actually got together, and in general fucked with me until I couldn't see straight anymore. He also took my virginity when he visited me on his way from Maine to Chicago to head back to school early for orientation (he was an orientation aide). And yes, I mean TOOK. Which messed with me even more, because even though I said no, I a) convinced myself I wanted it because otherwise that would mean I'd been raped, and I really didn't want to believe that, and b) decided that the only way to make (a) true would be if we actually dated.
The problem was, right after the Sex, he told me that he wasn't sure he wanted to date anyone at all. And I mean RIGHT AFTER. Like... minutes after. It was kind of horrible? And it fucked with me even more. Here I was, this straight-edge virgin girl who didn't believe in God but did believe in some things, one of them being that I didn't want to regret my first time having sex, which Matt knew about, but apparently didn't consider when HE decided that we should fuck.
Anyway, long story short, I finally convinced him we should date, and we did. For three years. As you can imagine, it wasn't the most equal of relationships. It was mostly about me trying to convince him and myself that he really wanted to be with me. I truly hate the weak, pathetic girl I was when I was with him. I felt inadequate in every way with him, but especially sexually, because while I had done a lot of stuff with my boyfriends in high school, I'd never had sex with them, and I wasn't Matt's first, which he reminded me of many times by describing all the wild experimentation he did with his high school girlfriend.
Anyway, three years later we broke up, and I watched all the episodes of Buffy where Angel goes evil and she kicks him in the balls and destroys Big Blue with the rocket launcher and "Becoming" with the sword and all that, and I cried and cried and did a lot of prescription drugs (leftover percoset from my knee surgery) and went into a long slut spiral that lasted a couple years and included a lot of bad choices, like roommates and ex-boyfriends' brothers and hot boys I met that night and poets who were overly fond of getting me drunk on gin and grapefruit juice, two disgusting things that manage to taste delicious together.
And then I moved to Austin, three years post-break up. I was 25 and I hadn't had a relationship with anyone since Matt. There were people I fucked regularly, but I never allowed myself to get emotionally involved. I was also half-convinced that I just wasn't good enough for anyone to love. I was the girl people would sleep with, but didn't want to date. A few months post-move, I met a guy. Daud. And I decided to try dating. I decided not to sleep with him the first night we met, even though that was kind of my MO at the time. I waited, I got to know him. We dated. It was interesting, because it made me realize that I actually hated dating.
Daud was nice, and sweet, and we had excellent chemistry (although I think we were both on the very submissive side, and he pushed me to be more dominant, which made me realize that I am really really not into being dominant in any way). But he was always wanting to hang out, wanting to spend time with me, wanting to touch me, wanting to talk to me on the phone, etc etc.
And... I wasn't into that. For as much as I had told myself I wanted a relationship, I wanted to actually DATE people instead of just fucking them, when I actually was dating someone, I kind of hated it. In the almost 4 years since Matt had broken up with me to date Miss Perfect Lindy (that's another story, don't ask!!), I had become someone new. Someone who liked spending time alone with just myself, who valued the freedom of being single over the obligations that came with dating, and who most of all liked NOT worrying about what some guy thought of me or if I was pretty enough or sexy enough or smart enough or whatever.
So I decided that I was done with dating. Not forever, but for the foreseeable future, and I haven't dated or had sex with anyone since, which is going on four years now. I am a much happier person alone, because I am just myself and I don't let anyone else's wants or needs or desires or screwed up emotional stuntedness change me into someone I hate, someone who alters her entire way of being just to please someone else.
So now I finally get to my point (hi, scrollers, HI!), which is basically--I think I might like someone? And I did make out with this person a little, but I didn't sleep with them, and now it's just like I always dreaded over the past 4 years of On Purpose Not Dating: self-doubt. I started wondering if they really like me, or if they just wanted to fuck me, or if they were just drunk and I happened to be there. And I started wondering about my sex issues, because anyone who dates me will have to understand where I come from sexually, my... particular needs when I'm having sex with someone on a regular basis, which are basically that in order to feel sexy and to be able to relax and enjoy myself (while sober), I need to be dominated to a certain extent, sort of... relieved of responsibility in a way. And it's not really a sex thing that the majority of people I've been with are into as a long-term deal. Most people find it pretty off-putting, actually.
But at the same time, I wonder if I'm holding back with this person not because I love being alone so much, but because I don't want to talk about my sex issues, or because I don't want to have to deal with any disappointment that might come from them being turned off by How I Am. Or maybe I'm just scared to let anyone get that close to me again, because of how badly I was hurt before, so I set aside anyone I might actually be able to care about romantically out of fear, and instead surround myself with people I love as friends but know I could never fall in love with. (That's not really a maybe, that's a definitely. I protect myself in that way, and the idea of allowing myself to care about someone like I did with Matt makes me want to puke.)
It's easier to be alone. I'm happy alone. But I hate the idea that I would deny a possibility out of fear, both of being hurt like I was before, and also of becoming the person I was when I was with Matt. And then, too, I don't think I should reject this person based on some convoluted idea that I'm saving them the trouble of finding out exactly how crazy I really am.
Anyway. I don't even know if anything will ever come of this, so it's kind of silly to debate myself about the issue. But it's maybe important for me to think about, too. Am I really committed to never having a relationship again? Can I really deny everyone who's interested in me the opportunity to show me that dating doesn't have to be this terrible, stressful, emotional whirlwind that transforms me into a slavish podgirl? I just don't know. I feel like happiness is such a tenuous thing, and now that I've finally found a way of being that works for me and maintains my happy state, I just can't decide if it's worth the risk to change this system that seems to work for me. I spent so much of my teen years being depressed and grieving for my father and my relationships and my lost friendships that these past four years of happiness and freedom and really figuring out who I am and finding out that I actually love the person I am--it's been a revelation to me. I think more than the idea of being hurt by someone, I'm afraid of losing that delicate balance and of falling into a depression and of losing my sense of self and my pleasure with who I have become.
So, I don't know. What do you guys think? I'm not upset, you know? It's just that this situation with this person has made me think about these things and actually question them for the first time since I made the decision to be alone. I also wonder if I'm maybe just feeling some cultural pressure to have a relationship. Our culture values heterosexual relationships and is afraid of homosexual and poly relationships, but it just sort of ignores Singledom as if it's not a natural state for a person to choose. Almost everyone I know is in some sort of relationship; a lot of my friends are having babies and buying houses as couples and that sort of thing. It's not something I want (especially the babies part, urgh), but it's hard to ignore the idea of coupledom in this culture, especially now, with all the Prop8/gay marriage/defense of "traditional" marriage blah blah stuff going on. So I feel like it's possible that I'm only questioning my chosen Singledom because of this cultural emphasis on Couples, and all the examples appearing in my life at the moment, and not because I *actually* like this person or want to change the nature of our association, as Doc Holiday would say.
And that is all. It's too much as it is! Back to work. Sigh. So much work.