Confusion

As promised, I am writing another post, since work did not actually kill me today. A lot has been happening in my life lately, besides working a busy 9-5, or in my case, actually, more of a 6-6, since I commute. I did not anticipate that graduation from college would lead me into a work life with twelve hour days. So please excuse the lack of posting lately!

Lately, I’ve been dating quite a bit, as well as hanging out with the ex. She drove up to the city to visit this past weekend, and I have to admit, I had a great time. I don’t know if it was the comfort from seeing her again in this city that is still relatively new to me, or if it was because we actually do get along very well. It was probably a mixture of the two.

The more interesting part of this story was the reason I asked her to visit. I had discovered a few weeks ago that she was casually talking to a potential romantic interest, and that just about tore me apart. I remember the night I found out, I could not sleep at all, and my heart was racing so fast that I had to take medication to calm myself down. My breathing was erratic, and my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. It’s strange how sometimes, when you let something go, you only let it go in hopes that someone else won’t pick it up. And when someone does, well, you go crazy.

This turned me onto dating many people at once. Casually, of course. I went out on two dates that week, even with people that didn’t particularly interest me. Anything to take my mind off my ex, I thought. If my ex was casually dating, I would casually date. What was silly about the whole ordeal was that I was dating to lessen my feelings of jealousy. Indeed, these people did take my mind off of my ex, but I didn’t know why I was dating them, other than to make myself feel less lonely.

I’m losing my sense of individuality. Being so incredibly focused on finding someone else to complete you, in effect, leaves you feeling incomplete. There is such great importance in being comfortable with being single, and with being an independent person. Only when you are comfortable and happy with who you are by yourself, can you be a wonderful half of a relationship. I’m happy with who I am, and I’m comfortable, but I feel like I’m starting to sacrifice my own goals and interests in order to find someone. It is at that point that you have little to offer in a relationship.

It’s incredibly easy to lose sight of your goals and individuality when you’re feeling lonely. It is incredibly easy to seek immediate gratification through the company of others when you are not ready for a new relationship. Does every great relationship have to be preceded by an excruciating period of loneliness? Does trying to preoccupy yourself while waiting for “the one” leave you ill-prepared to be in the relationship that’s actually meant to be?

The twenty-somethings are such a confusing period of life. I can only hope that I will figure things out soon, either by screwing up royally, or by finding my head somewhere along the way.

 

Ex Sex

[Disclaimer: I am in no way advocating ex-sex. In fact I consider it highly detrimental, and a huge step backward.]

Ex-sex. It’s hard to properly enunciate if you say it fast. It’s also hard to predict what will happen after an encounter of that nature. You know what people say. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. It’s nothing but trouble. For some reason, after a couple of glasses of wine, and some reminiscing about the past, it feels as though there is no other alternative. Particularly when your ex is sitting on your lap, with her legs wrapped around you, practically pleading with you for one (or several) last times.

This is what happened this past weekend, when I drove down to south to visit my friends, and told my ex that I would drop by on the way back up to the city. As it turns out, dropping by turned into more of a night over, especially since I was tired after a long day of being in the car. And sleeping with her arms around me just seemed so appealing, especially considering the alternative – a longer drive home, in the dark, only to fall asleep, exhausted, all by my lonesome. Shame, shame, shame…I know. I am only human.

The feeling of her lips on mine again was intoxicating – perhaps even better than it was when we were together. I knew it was because of the forbidden aspect, but that didn’t prevent it from being an irresistible experience. The more she kissed me, the more I resisted, but after her arms wrapped around me along with her legs, and after I caught the scent of her delicious perfume, resistance was futile. My morals and restraint were all shot to hell. Besides, I thought, I loved her, and part of me loved her still. The soft jazz playing in the background made it near-impossible to avoid the ominous, vilified phrase: Sex with the Ex.

“What will happen if we do this?” I asked, terrified of what it could all mean.

“Nothing…I promise I won’t want a relationship out of this.”

My fears were somewhat abated. I let my defenses fall. I let it happen. It was incredible. Why is sex with the ex always so exhilarating, so passion-filled and so amazing? I’m sure we all know the answer. It’s wrong. And you think it will never happen again. All the more incentive to make it unforgettable. I felt the warmth of her body against mine, I smelled the sweet scent of her pretty hair, and I lost myself in what felt like the passion that only comes from your first love. I was deluded, no doubt, but the rush was undeniable.

We spent the remainder of the night cuddling just the way we used to – her arms around me tight, holding me from behind. I felt so safe. I sighed and leaned into her warmth. I woke in the morning to kisses. I could get used to this, I thought. But I still knew that this was something that would never last. Why the body and emotions will sometimes never align with the mind is something I will never be able to understand fully. I spent the remainder of the drive up north listening to emotional love songs, thinking of her. My emotions ran amok, while my mind calmly told me that I should simmer down, since I knew we were incompatible.

“Sex with an ex can be depressing,” Samantha Jones, of Sex and the City muses, “if it’s good, you don’t have it anymore. If it’s bad, you just had sex with an ex.”

How true she was. And now, I am discovering the consequences of sex with the ex. My entire drive was spent glancing at cute texts filled with sweet nothings from the ex. Now she is a larger part of my life than she really should be. Now I feel more for her than I really should feel. Now my life is that much less open to the woman of my dreams, should she walk into my life.

Emotions are complex. Ideas about always following your heart are fueled by idealistic romantic comedies, books and poetry that wish that the world were perfect. In a perfect world, we could all follow our hearts and live happily ever after. In the real world, it seems that a combination of logic and emotion must mix to create the perfect elixir for finding lasting love.

“Why won’t you just follow your heart for ONCE?!” My ex once exclaimed.

“I do,” I answered. But look what happens when you follow JUST your heart and completely ignore your head.

Not all love works out in the end. Even if it were the most pure, real, and strongest of loves. As John Mayer’s song Split Screen Sadness goes, “All you need is love is a lie, cause we had a love but we still said goodbye, now we’re tired, battered fighters.”

Love may not always last forever, and it does not always end in wedded bliss. There are a myriad of reasons why a love affair can end. But what I think we can be thankful for, in the very end, is the fact that love happened.

 

The Bisexual Girl

I am falling for a girl (who happens to be bisexual) faster than you can say “shank me in the face!” Which is, to some lesbians, basically what happens when you fall in love with a bisexual woman. Except exchange “face” for “heart” and you’ve got yourself the end result.

I don’t quite understand it, but something about her simply just melts my heart. And my poor little heart is cowering in the corner, shaking, trying desperately to hide behind something – anything. But everything the girl does tears apart anything my heart tries to place in the way. It must be her eyes. Or maybe it’s her gorgeous brown hair. Maybe it’s the way she holds my hand, or maybe it’s the way she cuddles at night. I am entranced by the way she speaks so passionately about her life. I am charmed by her wit and her magnetism. And the way she looks when she smiles does nothing short of take my breath away.

The way the butterflies race through my body every time I see her or get a call from her should make me the happiest woman in the world, but in reality, it scares me. It scares me to death. Knowing that she has had serious boyfriends in the past, but not a serious girlfriend worries me. She has explained to me that she has fallen in love with women in the past, but ease was what caused her to pursue relationships with men for the most part. Until now. Now, she tells me, she wants to pursue a relationship with a woman. What makes her so sure? I’ve seen photographs of her and her ex-boyfriends, and I wonder if she’ll ever be able to share with a woman what she shared with them. I wonder if she wants to end up with a woman in the end, or if she plans to break her next girlfriend’s heart by leaving her for a man once she finds a suitable husband. It is the undeniable truth that being in a relationship with a man is much easier in today’s society than being in a lesbian relationship with a woman. How important is ease, and how important is love? And does the sex of your partner, (assuming you are bisexual) have an effect on the depth of love you feel for them?

She prefers women, she says, but I wonder if this is true. I wonder if my ever faster falling heart will be able to take the blow should she decide that being with a woman isn’t right for her. The fear of pain grips my heart, telling me to be careful, telling me not to let go. Every photograph I see of the girl and her ex-boyfriend hurts me slightly, causing me to add another lock onto the case surrounding my heart. I don’t know if I should let go. Especially if letting go means breaking my heart. I’ve had my heart shattered to pieces before. Having that happen again isn’t number one on my list of things to do in life.

Falling in love, however, is. And that’s what makes this so hard.

 

Taking the Plunge

Romance...

Why is it that every time you go out with someone you really like to watch a movie, you always end up seeing a movie with the rough caliber of Jeepers Creepers 2, Gigli and From Justin to Kelly? I’ve never understood it, but every movie I have ever watched with a potential romantic interest has ended up being a violent snore-fest. Either that or it made me want to shoot myself in the eye. And the whole time while you’re watching the movie, the only thing you can concentrate on is your physical proximity to your very sexy, warm and snuggly partner.

It’s a pity that so many movies, TV shows and even commercials make fun of the cliched yawn, stretch your arm, and put your arm around your partner routine. I was watching Get Smart the other night with a girl I liked, and if it wouldn’t have been so cookie-cutter to put my arm around her, I would have. Instead, I spent the majority of the movie struggling to get closer to her. Every inch I made towards her seat seemed to take an eternity. After the first fourth of the movie was over, our arms were finally in contact. At last. The next excruciating three fourths of the movie was spent over-analyzing her every movement, from the way she crossed her legs, to her giggles and leans, to the way she positioned her arms around her body. I think I was about to have a hernia. My blood pressure was doubling every half hour from the effort involved with analyzing, leaning, sighing, touching, and laughing at the appropriate times to achieve maximum closeness.

It’s painful when you’re unsure if your advances will be rejected, and when you fear rejection so deeply. It’s harder yet when you know that her reaction will probably either make or break your night out. After about an hour and a half of painful deliberating (and ignoring the awful movie), I finally decided to take a deep breath and just rest my head upon her shoulder lightly. I leaned back in my seat, snuggled up a bit closer, and quickly lay my head down into the side of her neck before I could think any more about it. To my surprise and delight, she actually leaned back into me, sighing happily. The relief! I was able to spend the rest of the movie finally at peace. Somehow the characters seemed funnier. The whole movie seemed brighter, and more romantic. She laughed more. I laughed more. The truth is, the movie wasn’t any funnier that it was before.

I felt the back of the seat digging into my side, but it didn’t matter. I liked being close to her. And she liked being close to me. And that was all I needed. Sometimes, a movie at a theater is only as good as her hand in yours, her whispers in your ear, or her head on your shoulder. We spent the rest of the night walking about town, holding hands, holding each other, and smiling inside and out. I held her in my arms as we waited for her bus to arrive. I kissed her softly goodbye. I felt butterflies. The bus left. She called me. More butterflies.

It’s amazing how much you can be rewarded once you let your guard down and put your pride to rest. There’s always the chance of being shot down, of being rejected, or of finding that your love is unrequited. But there’s also that chance that you’ll feel her hand in yours, that you’ll feel her light kiss on your lips, and that you’ll have one of the happiest nights of your life.

Those who risk nothing, gain nothing. Those who risk it all, have the opportunity to gain more than they could have ever imagined. And that, I think, is a risk worth taking.

 

An Older Piece – “Yeah, I have a….boy..friend.”

I don’t know what to say when people inquire about my love life. Example: Today at work, my coworker Samantha starts talking to me about boys, and then asks me if I’m in a relationship. I say yes, and then she starts asking about my “boyfriend.” I don’t know how to tell her that I actually have a girlfriend, so I humor her and say that our relationship is really great, blah blah blah. She then goes on to tell me about the type of guy she usually goes for, and then asks me about my type. I go on to tell her that I like guys with swimmers’ builds, pretty eyes, brown hair, and money. The whole time, I feel like I’m fronting; I feel like I really should have said, “Well, I have a girlfriend.” This sort of thing has happened 3 times today, and that’s why it’s on my mind. While working at the coffeeshop today, I saw my co-worker Laura talking to a guy whom she seemed to be really friendly with.
“Is that your boyfriend,” I ask.
“Yeah,” she smiles. “I don’t mean to be a stalker or anything, but I saw on Facebook that you’re in a relationship now.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“So you have a boyfriend? That’s cool.”
“…Yeah.”