» My tears dry on their own.
  • My tears dry on their own.

    Sep 28th • Posted in love, personal, writing


    It’s been awhile, blog.

    I’m sorry for the neglect. A lot of things have happened– some good, some bad, and some that I’m still trying to work through. I should mention that I started this blog with the intent to chronicle my daily life in Chicago with as much honesty and integrity that I could. In this day and age, it’s easy to be a constant oversharer with Facebook and the like, and I’m guilty of it. (There’s a reason why so many of my college friends dubbed me the “Facebook Queen” in my early years of school.) But this blog is supposed to contain the most intimate of my thoughts– it’s the reason why not many people know about it. Other than relative strangers, and my closest friends. A lot of things have happened though. Things that my friends know I’ve been through, but only in general terms and not my feelings. I guess this post will be able to address all of that without getting too mopey, or too angry. Well, fuck. Here we go!

    Alex and I broke up. Yep. Over a month ago. You all saw it coming– I posted it all over my page, and I didn’t hide it. I didn’t hide my unhappiness, I didn’t hide the fact that I kept fluctuating between staying with him and breaking up with him, I didn’t hide how much I loved (and still love, in a different way) that boy with every bit of  me. It reminds me of a scene from one of my favorite movies (Before Sunset.) While I am over Alex, and I am so happy that it’s over (seriously, my therapist asked me why I was smiling when I had mentioned we broke up. I had no idea I was even smiling) I am also (in a weird way) sad because he tore me apart and opened me up and now I’m afraid of letting someone in. I finally knew what being with someone you actually cared about was like, instead of going to a bar, getting picked up by a guy, and feeling numb about the sex you would have. It was meaningless and numbing. I felt nothing. Alex showed me that you can do that with someone you like, it’s possible and it feels so much different. There are emotions behind it, you can trust the other person and they won’t do you wrong when it comes to one of the most inherently intimate acts known to humankind.

    The end was worse than the beginning. The beginning started off well, and the end just… well, it was what it was and now it’s over. I learned a lot of lessons, and I’m not regretting the time I had with him. I will say, though, that I should have never ignored what my best friends had to say about him. None of them liked him (except for the guy friends– yeah, I’m looking at you, G. I was about to book you guys a hotel room.) That should already be indicative of a sign that someone is not good for you. So, I’m not sad over it.

    What I am sad about is how much it’s affected the way I date. I’m so scared that people do not have the best intentions that I constantly second guess myself, and I constantly doubt others. I love love, and I’m not going to hide it. I’m a much better person in a relationship than I am single, and that’s not be claiming to be codependent or anything– I love myself in both aspects (single or in a relationship,) but I tend to push myself more when I’m in a relationship. I have someone who keeps my shit in check. (I fucking hate dating though. God, I hate it so much.) But in any case, the saddest part about the whole thing is that I loved Alex (despite the fact that I wasn’t in love with him.) And I lost something when we ended our relationship– I lost a lot of things. I’m not sad about losing him though: I’m sad that I lost pieces of myself (watch that Before Sunset scene, and you’ll get why I say that.)

    I mention this because I met someone recently that I actually like, but I’m afraid I’ve fucked it up and that I’m too neurotic to move forward. We might have moved too fast, and part of that was my fault. (Hey, I’m a single woman– I have needs. Fucking sue me.) And now I’m scared because he hasn’t been texting me first, or hasn’t been making an effort like he did the first two times. And I know I shouldn’t be freaking out over a guy I’ve only been out on two dates with, but maybe that’s exactly the reason I’m freaking out. I’m so used to extremes: I either sleep with a guy on the first date knowing I’ll never see him again, or sleep with him on the first date and just fuck him repeatedly until I break it off because it’s meaningless. Or, knowing what I know now, I delay it until I know it’s the right decision. I do it because I know they mean something to me, and it feels so much better. The first time having sex with someone is always awkward, but the more you wait, the better it is because you can trust them and you know where it’s going. So this thing makes me confused. I hardly know the guy, but from what I know of so far, I’m attracted to him. But I don’t know him enough to feel comfortable with him in that sense. I know what meaningless sex is and was, and I’m not a fan of it. I want it to mean something– I want to be able to trust the person I’m with and explore whatever it is from there. So this inbetween limbo shit is too much for my little heart to handle. Damn, I like him! I like him enough to want to get to know him and see where it’s going, but I fucked it up by moving too fast. And as my therapist (she’s a wise one, that one. But I guess that’s what I pay her for…) said to me: “You’re like this because you don’t know if he actually likes you, or if he used you for sex.” Um, yeah. Pretty much.

    I think the one thing that Alex taught me is that neediness and clinginess stems from insecurity. (I mean in the context of that relationship– Alex was a fuck, I wasn’t clingy. We just wanted different things, and I was too optimistic to listen to him.) And the reason why I’m so clingy and insecure with this person is because I don’t know him well enough to have done that stuff. And I just want to scream it out and be like, “LOOK. I LIKE YOU BUT I WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT YOU AND I WANT TO STOP WHILE WE’RE AHEAD WHEN IT COMES TO THE PHYSICAL SHIT BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW YOU WELL ENOUGH TO WANT TO EXPOSE MY BODY AND LIFE LIKE THAT TO YOU.” I’m someone who has higher standards for herself, and I dropped the ball on that. I know myself well enough to know that I don’t like sleeping with guys unless I know we’re exclusive. In that way I should mention that I don’t even know if he’s dating anyone else (I’m at least glad he is responsible enough to be safe about it, which is more than I can say for some men I know,) and I don’t want to restrict him from that. Dating is fun for some people (usually it is for me,) and I don’t know him well enough to ask him to drop that all and be that person for me. I don’t feel comfortable enough to ask him that– for him and myself. And while I’m not interested in seeing anyone else, I am not going to take that step to ask him to just see only me.

    I guess I’m writing this to let it all out and to feel better about it, to attempt to understand myself and what I’m going through, to justify my actions and be OK with it. And to be okay with my neuroses when he eventually does (or doesn’t) tell me he’s no longer interested because of all of my baggage. Life goes on, and it’s not defined by some guy. I guess I’m just upset because I like him and I can’t handle it well. I’ve got a lot of shit, and I wish that I didn’t. At the same time, I guess I’m just confused with the mixed signals. If you like me, make an effort to hang out with me. Don’t tell me we’ll “try,” and then not do shit about it. If I like you, I’m gonna make an effort to do shit with you. Be straight up with me. Be honest. If you’re figuring your shit out, tell me. You say that you don’t want someone to waste your time, but by fucking around and being wishy-washy with the communication, you are wasting my time.

    Sigh. I’m angry and angsty and blejakweghjawegjwalkegjwae.