» Bits & Pieces of B.
  • Bits & Pieces of B.

    Jun 05th • Posted in love, personal, writing

    Note: Here are bits and pieces of things that I’ve written about B. I didn’t have the heart or head to finish them all– so they’re all just scraps of writing down in this blog post. I figured I may as well post it all now, rather than later. Some things are better left unsaid, and more things are better left unfinished. Not all of these things reflect the way I feel about him now, but you can understand how frustrated I was with B when I was effectively his booty call. I’ve attempted to salvage things and place them in an order that makes sense (sort of chronologically.) You can get a semblance of what happened through most of these tidbits. But I had to put all this shit into one post because my drafts were clogging up and also, because I just wanted it all out there in the open.

    Fuck. I’m laughing while I’m writing this because I can’t really articulate my feelings as well as I should, and the fact that a Taylor Swift song explains so much of how I feel is the cherry on this shitshow Sunday (oh, fuck– word play. Get it? Because I’m writing this on a Sunday, and I’m referring to the cherry on top of the proverbial sund– okay, I’ll stop. I’m just easily amused.) In any case, to rehash the events and reasoning for this blog entry, it’s important to know that I wrote the first part of this blog post after the person who made me feel all tha feeeeelz (lmao, I need to stop with this) cancelled our big weekend in. At the same time, a lot of the feelings carried over into last night, and there is a bit of overlap. Not much, though I am really happy that I’ve accepted what’s done is done, and I’ve reached a place where I’m comfortable with myself. To each his/her own and the phrase “You do you,” keeps playing in my head because it’s true (no matter how stupid the advice sounds, it is true. So shut up, be yourself and go with it.)

    Part One: 

    I’m emotionally and physically taxed from the past couple of weeks. Not just from being overworked from various parts of my life (namely, school and work– and now, research at the hospital) but also due to my love life. There is someone (despite my rants about other men that I’ve dated in the past couple of weeks) that I have been talking to now for about two months, and while I didn’t intend to get caught up in him– I guess there was something about him that attracted me to him. We were supposed to see each other tonight, but due to extenuating cirmcumstances, he cancelled. I can’t say that I’m not disappointed, because I truly am and I was excited to see where things were going to go. I feel like I’ve come to a point where I am so ready for a long-term relationship and I cannot have it because I’m not in a place where that is feasible. Or, it could be– but the other person isn’t capable of sustaining and maintaining one. Or maybe I’m just afraid of getting hurt. I disabled my OKCupid account because I didn’t want to tempt myself anymore, and I didn’t want to deal with whatever this is. This is going to be an extremely long blog entry because I’m working through my feelings right now.

    As evidenced by previous blog posts, I am no stranger to dating: I have had, maybe, three serious long-term relationships in my life– dated a bunch of other men, and I can seriously say I have been in love with two people in my life, one I dated and one I did not. I am no stranger to dating, love, or anything of the sort. In fact, my friends joke that I am the “Samantha” of my friend group, despite the fact that I could count the number of guys I’ve had sex with on one hand. I’m comfortable with the way I treat relationships, the way I enter them, and dating in general. I’m happiest when I’m either alone and single, or when I’m in a relationship. The inbetween is muddled, gray area, and I’m learning how to deal with that. I’m dealing with letting go and not overthinking things because that ruins any potential relationship. But, I will say (and so would my therapist, hollaaaaaa Doc McR) that after my past relationship, I know that I am capable and ready for a serious long-term relationship, and that I deserve one where a person can invest just as much as I invest into him.

    I’m writing this blog because I wish timing didn’t play such a huge part in who you can or cannot be with. I wish that everyone was emotionally available and knew how to deal with their emotional baggage, or that people in general didn’t have emotional baggage. But I’m not in high school anymore: I am no longer naive, and I need to remember that everyone is at their own pace when it comes to dating and relationships. People have different styles, and I am aware of that. But, fuck. You know when you meet someone that is so perfect for you, and you get that ooey-gooey sticky feeling in your chest that you can’t seem to shake? You’re just drawn to this person, and you can’t help but pursue it for what it is. (As my therapist says regarding this person, “It sounds like you’re walking yourself right into a trainwreck.”)

    Part Two:

    I would continue off that thought, but I just can’t. It’s difficult because things actually happened and he ended up coming over last night. I wanted him to come over Friday night after our talk (through text messaging nontheless– you all know how I feel about communication through indirect means,) but I felt as though I would be tempted into just having sex with him straight away. Which, I’ll be honest with you, happened anyway. I don’t know how I feel about it, as I’m still processing whatever that was. After our talk on Friday, I had been under the impression that he liked me, and that he wanted to explore where this was going. Maybe I wanted to believe he was ready for a relationship (spoiler alert: he’s not,) and even more so, I wanted to hope that he would be ready to take that leap with me. (Again, why do I romanticize things when I know in my gut that they’re not going to play out as well as in my head?) On Saturday, I was brought back down to Earth and realized that he is not, was not, no matter how much he says he is.

    It’s not that last night was bad– it was good. The sex, the conversations, the whole thing was a good thing that I know I’m going to look back on fondly. Granted, it may have started awkwardly because I was still reeling over the conversation from the night before. Ironically enough, he told me I probably had my hopes up too high for him. He was right. Not that he’s not a good person, or that he doesn’t have the qualities I want in someone– because he still does. But I don’t think he’s ready for anything until he finds himself first. He needs to take care of himself and his happiness. He mentioned that he didn’t feel happy, and maybe he needs to fulfill those needs before he can give that to someone else and fulfill that happiness.

    I don’t know. I’ve had all day to think about it, and I’m still processing it. But all I know is that I miss kissing him. I’m just reeling over whatever this was, whatever it could be. I’m surprised I’m not overthinking it as much as I usually do. Is that weird? For me it is. Last night was great, but I’m not sure what to make of it still. These blogs are meant for me to sort out my feelings, right?

    I don’t want to be saved, and I don’t want to save anyone else.


    B was supposed to come over last night, but cancelled on me at the last minute. Needless to say, I was pissed and super disappointed– and I basically left it at that. We ended up talking about things, and he was just overwhelmed and emotional over something that had happened– and so was I. He basically he said he was in a place where he wanted a relationship, and needed to stop messing around. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant for us. I shrugged it off. To be fair with you, I also had no idea what to expect if he had come over last night. Just sex? But Christa, you might say– Christa, you’re already so attached. How would you be able to pull off just sex? Dear reader, you’re right. I fucking wouldn’t, and that’s why things turned out the way they did. And I’m partially happy about it. 

    Anyway, I basically got fed up and told him that I wasn’t angry he didn’t show up because I thought we weren’t going to have sex. I was angry because I wanted to see him after two months of talking. I wanted to get it over with because I wanted to see him. He ended up telling me that he didn’t realize that was what I wanted, and that’s how I saw him– but ended up basically telling me that he’d like to see where this goes, despite his baggage and his “friend” that is his save girl, etc. In any case, I suppose I could understood how I was sending him mixed signals. Because I was. I was attempting to use sex as a way to get to know him and keep him in my life because I genuinely like him and have feelings for him. So it wouldn’t have just been meaningless sex to me, it would have been more. 

    I guess we reached an understanding though. I knew I liked him, I just didn’t realize how much. I ended up calling my best girl friend to vent and gather some clarity on the subject, and I felt the tears well up and I cried. It takes me a lot to cry over someone, and I honestly think I’ve cried over, maybe three or four men in my life, and that’s saying a lot because I’ve dated so many men. I cried because I’m frustrated that I met someone so perfect for so early on in my life. I cried because this is the first time I’ve seen him so genuine with me, and his manipulation of my feelings (while not justified) makes sense in the grander scheme of things. I cried because timing sucks and it sucks not having what’s right in front of you. I cried because he makes me feel and want things. 

    He’s coming over tonight so we can see what this is, cuddle and watch TV shows. I’m nervous but it’s been a long time coming and now we’re (at least, I hope) on the same page.


    I know you’re looking for a savior, but I don’t know if I can save you.

    I don’t think I have the mental or emotionally capacity to have to do that for someone again. Plus, you definitely are in no shape to pursue something like that right now.


    I hate myself for a lot of reasons this week.

    I hate that I feel so numb. Things are happening all around me and I’m ignoring all of it. I want to be feeling things even though I know I’m going to get hurt in the end. My therapist told me I am a person who enjoys chaos, which is evident through the people I date and the fact that I feel numb when things are stagnant. It makes sense. 

    I hate that I’m letting you come over again. I mean, I don’t. God damn it, I love that I’m going to see you next weekend. You smell clean and crisp. You smell like citrus fruit (yet in a manly way?) And I’ve been missing the way you kiss me. Your lips are soft and I love the way you bite on my lower lip AND upper lip. Fuck. I miss kissing you. But I hate that I know it’s going to turn into just fucking. I hate that you can’t take me more seriously, and I hate that knowing this is just going to turn into more fucking. 

    I hate that I don’t really care, and that I’m settling. 

    I hate that I know I want a relationship with you, but I’m aware that neither of us has the mental, emotional or temporal capacity for a serious relationship. But honestly, I want one with you so badly. I want to be with you. And not in the way where you mash your genitals against mine in six rousing rounds of, what can only be called, marathon sex. I want to BE with YOU. I want you to teach me things, and I want you to call me out on my bullshit. 

    I hate that you want to be saved. Because I don’t want to spend the time and effort trying to save when I get nothing out of it. My therapist told me that I hate saving men because I do all this work to make them functioning people, and as soon as it happens: they leave me. 

    I really do hate myself this week.

    But I hate how much I like you the most. Fuck. 


    I can’t keep drowning in you when you insist I stay hydrophobic.


    I need to stop acting like we’re in a relationship because we’re not.

    We fucked once (okay, not true, we fucked A LOT over the course of 24 hours) and that’s it.

    And everytime I talk to you, my heart breaks a little bit more.

    Just like when you said you were going to come over this weekend, and when I brought it up— we got into a fight. I’m not even with you, why do I care so much?


    Post-It-Love-Note covered in bees edition, Madéleine Flores.

    This might be the only reason I miss B. Because I am 99.9% sure he’d be doing this to my ass.


    So a lot of shit has been happening the past couple days and I’m not too sure how to deal other than coping with some alcohol and anger and drunk texting. That’s always fun. So, I have work and class tomorrow so I’m not sure how this will turn out because I’m binge drinking at one in the morning. I am not happy and I am angry.

    Essentially, my ex has a new girlfriend and I know it’s been a couple months– but I’m angry because he’s doing everything he never did with me. He goes on facebook for her. He posts pictures of them together. He changes his relationship status. He introduces her to his friends. They have an integrated friend group. He takes her on trips. He introduces her to family. WHAT THE FUCK. I don’t know. I don’t understand– what is wrong with me? I’m curious, because no matter how much I give, I don’t get shit back. Honestly, it’s like every guy I date finds ~someone better~ after me that he gives his all to. I’m really tired of being the test relationship, I’m tired of being someone that can’t get as much as I give. I don’t ask for much, but I ask for mutual respect and understanding and communication. I literally ask for the fucking bare minimum and I can’t even get that.

    I don’t know. Fuck, I fucking give up.

    I can’t be with someone who I think is great for me because he doesn’t want a relationship. And my ex, who basically wouldn’t even admit we were dating to anyone, is dating someone who he is obviously really proud of being with.

    Why am I not enough


    excerpt from “To the Men I’ve Had Sex With“:

    VI. You’re a manipulative son of a bitch that I just can’t quit. Half the time I want to yell at you because every time you step into the picture, my heart fucking breaks a little. I can’t tell if you fuck me until I’m numb, or if I’m numb because you fuck me– but I can’t keep living like this. I feel a raging fire blazing and I know it’s not real. I know it’s destructive, but the times I’ve collapsed onto my floor, my bed, my couch, my roommate’s futon– are all indicative of the power you have over me. I lose a little respect for myself every time I sleep with you. I’m far from full capacity, but I’m trying to quit you. I just can’t. I’m so sick of writing about you. Feelings always get in the way of fucking and I’d be fine with it if you felt the same way. (But you don’t.)


    You kiss like you love me now, you know I can’t tune that out. Your frequency hits me less frequently. I have to haunt your dreams, you can’t stay mad at me. Just ’cause we’re supposed to be don’t mean we’re gonna be. You can still break my heart even if we’re only messing around.

    The best people are constant contradictions of themselves. My therapist insists that I refer to this as being a “multi-dimensional person” in order to frame it in a more positive light– but I prefer to be thought of as a mess of contradictions. And I think that’s part of the reason I’m drawn to you: you’re an enigmatic presence, and I find it hardpressed to fit you into a certain label or category of person in my life. I have trouble keeping people in relationship limbo, simply because I’m a person that values my relationships with others and tends to like the security and safety that organization brings. (Ironically enough, I finally get what you mean about liking someone and finding out how they fit into your life– because the frustration from whatever this is stems from the same feeling.)  Past and future me are probably kicking themselves knowing that I’m ripping my heart to shreds attempting to figure out what to do with you. In a perfect world, all of this would be over and done with and I wouldn’t even be having to face my emotions because I’d be over them. Unfortunately, that is not at all true or feasible, so here I am– writing a blog post about a guy that doesn’t even give a shit about me.  That being said, I fell for you before we started talking. I hesitated in messaging you because I thought you were too good for me. You fit every last criteria on my checklist. Maybe that’s not the way people are supposed to think about potential partners– we’re not supposed to fit them in boxes, we are supposed to take them at face value and fall in love with the people they are (not their potential.) But there you were: intelligent, witty, older twentysomething medical student with a sharp tongue.  You became this symbol of everything I want in a person, and everything I want to become. You turned into the green light at the end of the dock, and like Gatsby (and many who have come before me, and will come after me,) you elude me– but it doesn’t stop me from running faster, stretching my arms out further, even though it will end with me regressing to the past. Maybe we all have a green light, though. I know you have one: it’s why you can never be in a decent relationship until you either try it, or get over it. Perhaps I am musing over all of this is because I’m trying to pinpoint the exact reasons I like you. I never really understood chemistry until I applied it to people and their personalities. You can observe two elements in their natural state and note that they are behaving as they should. However, mixing them together forms a reaction that proves extremely volatile and dangerous. That’s how some people are– separately, they are completely normal, but combining them is cause for some disasterous results. That is my understanding of how I react to you whenever you come around. It’s difficult to really put down into words, because my mind is constantly flitting back and forth between “oh my god I want this” and “no, fuck off– he’s TROUBLE and you know it.” I’ve always struggled with the concept of a person’s needs not always matching up with their desires, and keeping you around proves to be extremely difficult when it’s something that I clearly want. Growing up doesn’t make that any easier, it just exacerbates the process. I suppose I am mostly intrigued by you because I am curious at how we are wired so differently, yet we end up finding ourselves in similar places.



    Sometimes the universe deals you a card and you’re forced to do something about. Sometimes this fucking happens because you’re drunk and you write a blog post because you can’t stop thinking about someone, and then you drunkenly send him the link to your blog (and the post about him.) And then you deal with the consequences because he speaks to you again miraculously.

    All of that shit happened, though I don’t think he’ll be reading this anymore unless I randomly send him this too (whilst drunk.) So let’s move on.

    I guess part of me is really happy I’ve treated our talk in the most mature way possible. I kept refusing to fall for all the advances when he tried to bring up our sexual history, and I tried to dodge the possibility of a future encounter. (Though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part.)


    I disabled my OkCupid account for the billionth time, though I’m hoping this time it sticks.

    I’m uninspired and unmotivated. I’m OK with being single, but I’m hoping God has a sign for me to get over B. It’s been half a year since I was stuck on the guy, so I’m a little disappointed that I still find myself running back to him. Usually I’m stronger than this. I have no idea why I’m so weak when it comes to matters of the heart (and him.)


    I always complain about whenever I end things with a man because they always leave some token of themselves at my apartment whenever it happens. Prescott left his guitar and fedora, Alex left his belt, Mike left a couple beers and a bottle of Lindemann’s raspberry lambic…
    And you left me with the memories that are slowly fading away. (I don’t even remember how your kisses taste.)

    I knew I should have kept your gray American Apparel hoodie when I had the chance.