Lost in Txtlation

These are the cookie crumbs for my depreciating mind.

Tag: breakup

Does he, did he care?

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I have been in my fair share of breakups. I was recently talking with someone very close to me and she explained her recent breakup. It resonated with me. She told me how she felt as though she were ready for it, but regardless she sat there and cried. She even asked if she could have a moment to just sit and cry before leaving to go to work. The guy said, yes take all the time you need. This causing more tears to roll from her eyes. His kindness was comforting but felt dissociated and wrong because they were no longer a couple now.

She said to him, “I really do care about you and understand this and am going to be OK with it..” But what she asked next hit home, “I just need to know, as you seem really composed, do you care about this at all? Do you, did you care about me?”

That stone cold demeanor I am all too familiar with, because I have done it. When I have broken up with someone, I have put a lot of thought into it and have convinced myself as to why I have to make the hard step to ending the relationship, why I have to step away from the comfort, or hardship. This isn’t something I just came up with the night before but something I have been going over in my head for weeks at a time. So when it comes to the actual day when I say it, it feels disconnected because I am sitting there with multiple aspects of my mind guiding me:

-The need to make sure they understand we just didn’t have that connection to work and to not blame anyone for us not being compatible.

-The want to make sure that this person that I just spent a significant portion of my life with understands I am there for them at that moment in time.

-And finally the organization of the words I am going to use to do it.

It is like being in a defensive mode, ready for anything at any moment and preparing for it. It is almost as if because I have so many things going on in my head, my normal bubbly, excitable self, becomes for a lack of a better word, monotonous and business like. My face gets emotionless, my eyes blank hardly blinking, my body calm and lifeless. I already disconnected from the relationship maybe minutes or hours before I make the words come to my lips, “I think we should breakup”.

It is to prepare for every situation possible, something I have as a defense mechanism in my own body and mind due to the way I was raised and the childhood I had both at home and socially. I constantly tried to gauge those around me who were closed off or accepting of me, being on complete defense at all times, to prepare for what might be said, and if it was said, how I would diffuse it or recoil and hide.

This is not the healthiest way to live and I suppose one of the reasons my relationships haven’t done so well in the past, but it is also why I am in need of someone very sensitive to the fact that I don’t just want to know what is on their mind, but I need to know what is on their mind for the first few months, years etc, just so that I can fully trust them to not throw in a wrench like my family used to or my “friends” did. (I was not the popular kid, let’s just leave it at that) And even more so I can get out of my head, analyzing every breath, sigh, or micro expression, and just be there with them. So I don’t have to have my mind going on so many different scenarios every millisecond that I get to breath and be with them.

So when I heard my friend tell me about what had happened, I told her the truth, people like me, and often men in general have a different reaction to breakups, especially if they are the one instigating it. Men and myself tend to get through the initial breakup with what seems like ease and an emotionless display, meanwhile women usually let the hurt and struggle of the breakup to the front immediately. But ask anyone like me, ask them, “What happens a month or 2 down the road after the breakup?” We cry. We cry or we feel the loss. What takes women seconds to do, us men take a serious mental break before we truly feel it. And trust me we feel it. We don’t skip that part, we just go on a mini brain vacation prior. But when we get our first sensory memory of you and it brings back the comfort or love we had with each other, we let it out. And then we take a slightly longer time to recover. I feel as though women rebound for the first month whereas men are a little more dangerous. We could feel OK right away and even date again right away, but when we get that sting a month or so later, we can self destruct whatever we just built.

So women, yes we feel, but we are in a “stance” during the breakup. We are protecting either ourselves, you, or validating it in a different way. Healthy or not, there is a lot of truth here.

“Fun” fact most breakups happen around holidays, birthdays, and important moments in life when we would want it least, not because it is being insensitive but because these moments make us reflect on what we can invest emotionally and even monetarily in our significant other, which can often reveal a lot about how we actually feel.

“The Hover” (+Add Friend)

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I just spent what felt like endless time hovering over the “+Add Friend” button on Facebook of my last relationship. I had no music on, I had other shit to do, but I saw an update through some forgotten social media so I ended up clicking link after link until it ended up on the landing page of the once removed Facebook page. I literally had my face about 5 inches from my 30 inch monitor just staring at the button, mouse cursor over it. The inviting hued green color saying it was OK, my mind having a battle that parallels that of an open field revolution, both armies firing across, the same hue of green, grass at one another.

When I finally began breathing again, my brain felt like no one actually won. Just PTSD suffering symptoms resonating in all parts of my synapses still firing rapidly. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen from staring at it for so long without taking a breath. “She is like your mother”, “She hurt you”, “She made you a better person”, “She inspired you”, “You got nothing done with her around”, “You liked the idea of inspiration versus the application”, “she is so talented”, “she is so beautiful”, “we had amazing chemistry”, “she abandoned you when she deemed it too hard for herself”, “she will do it again”, “Socks”, “we would make good friends”, “we can’t just be friends”(actually specifically I remember her saying to me we could never just be friends back when we were good).

I loved her, I momentarily hated her, I didn’t care anymore, I am offended and proud when she is successful, I keep wanting it back. The idea? Did the idea even have enough time to be one? I was her doorway from danger to safety. I was left in the hallway between the two doors. I am still in that hallway. I wonder if she ever see’s my “Add Friend” button. She should come back to me, not me to her. Would I even accept her? Would I even know if she accepted me, everything I knew about her was an expression, a breath, an internal sound, the words were just paper versions of what they should be, the real feelings were all in her eyes, and I no longer have access to those. All the time having “Buy it Now” syndrome, where I hover over an obvious impulse buy, which I probably can’t “afford”, but click anyway and don’t look back because it already ran your credit card. Even knowing you now have a small window to cancel it but wanting it enough to pretend it is final.

Regardless of being so introverted compared to me, an extroverted introvert as she said. Regardless of me trying to work to “compromise myself” without the same in return… I don’t want someone who can’t accept “Time” as a mutual enemy and skip the “readings”. I don’t want to get a PH.D to legally understand her. I’m glad I didn’t hit the button. But I am sad that I can’t. I am sad that we can’t just be in each other’s lives. I am sad she was such a good kisser. I am sad that my winter felt colder because the promise of her being there was broken. I am sorry I looked so far ahead. I am sorry she allowed it and sealed the ideas with a kiss. I am upset she was cowardly in her last message to me via text. How stereotypical she had become to use the media forms we both knew disconnect people from actual responsibility. Ultimately making me decide her fate, when she was holding the gun. Although it was a water gun, blinding, blatantly orange, no threat, just empty, no water, taped shut, never to be filled.

My brain continues arguing. “I still miss her.” “I still believe in her.” “The woman at Dunkin donuts said we looked good together.” “I still don’t know how to protect myself from her.” Why am I hovering over this fucking button!

So I pulled away, I decided to come here and write instead, I didn’t “break”. Then the equally calming hue of blue, with the words “Follow” on Instagram appeared…

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The First Time – Let’s be awkward, together.

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Disclaimer: apparently this is about as vulnerable as I can be with my writing because I met someone a long time ago, we slept together, and they said afterwards, “Wow that was just like what you wrote”. Never have I felt so naked before in my life, while being naked haha.

Since, because I am a lover of discourse, the (wo)men of the city, rather than nature and the countryside, are my teachers. – Plato, Gorgias

With the current trend of books like 50 Shades of Grey hitting the top selling lists, you would think we would all just throw each other in cuffs, a blindfold, and have mind blowing sex the minute tensions arise. But like that book, life is filled with typos and awkward moments.

For me, that first sexual encounter always brings with it a level of anxiety. I am not talking run out of the room or curl into a corner anxiety. I am talking about having no idea beyond the few text interactions leading up, perhaps a Facebook stalk, and subsequent dates/drinks/light hearted conversations we have had, what the person in front of me actually likes, dislikes, gets turned on from, and if they care what turns me on.

I have always, since a very young age, raised with 5 sisters and hearing their horror stories of dates, made it a mission to be in control of my body, emotions, and sexual prowess. In short, I want to please the person in-front of me. I didn’t want to be so selfish that it brought someone to tears, so I put this first interaction before myself more often than not.

I will be the first person to say I have had difficulty performing the first time many times. Not because I am not extremely attracted to the person, but because I find many people when you first dive into this part of the relationship, get closed off and quiet.

Shit even typing about a first sexual encounter makes me question how it will come off to the general populous. Will I be judged for having sex on the 1st date or 10th? Will I be judged for not being able to perform? Will you just think I am broken or a player? Regardless I am going to tell you what it is like for me and then what it is like the second time.(even if that second time is a half hour later).

The first thing I do is gauge the lighting. I find that depending on the person the lighting is super important. Some want to see what they are unwrapping in front of them, and others want it to be a classical lights off, closed eye kissing, “first time”. I listen to their breathing while we kiss, watch the corners of their mouths as each kiss restarts over and over for that curl upward. I keep my eyes open majority of the time to see if they will make eye contact, I find the face of someone at that close proximity in what could be described as a broken down boundary to be beautiful. We can fall for someone at a distance or a 5 foot safety, but that close, the face becomes a new thing to look at, enjoy, and breath in. I love catching their eyes, having that moment where both I and they close them quickly almost embarrassed, but even more I love when the gaze gets locked. It helps to turn this very strange first exploration not only physical but emotional.

That is something that is so hard when you first begin any physical exchange with someone, is understanding that much deeper level of emotion. Sex is intense and it does change things, I don’t care who you are. And what guys will never admit, is they are MUCH more subject to this kind of emotional attachment from sex than women are. For some men it is a territorial thing and some it is intimacy, or a mix of both. For me it is about the connection and not being positive it is a mutual feeling yet. And I don’t expect it to be clear that first time.

Are the hands on your back holding tightly because you are nervous or because you want me closer. How do you gauge what your emotional level is at this point anyway. Easy answer? You don’t. I don’t care if you are someone with a 3 date rule, 10 date rule, marriage rule, sex is so damn personal, no set of guidelines and conversation leading up to it is going to make it smooth. Sure you may be able to be dominant or submissive right off the bat, but there is a connection we all strive for that is mutual. When we let our guard down and don’t play a “role” things become scary. And this is why sex is scary for me at first, I am emotional, I love romance. However I have been a Dominant Leo all my life. Since I could first get it up I always found some sort forms of BDSM extremely sexy. Nothing in the self depreciating world, but the whole tied down, blindfold, outfits, and things that just spice the act up.  I may not be a certified dom and definitely too shy without the right trust to say the right things, but I am extremely observant and have learned quite a bit on my own. I naturally fall into the “in charge” role of many given situations, sex being one of them. To have a partner in crime who is comfortable makes me comfortable, opening up the gate to a whole lot more. This likely allows me to stop tryin to just please, but to be present for the moment, with them, together.

But my big secret is that since I knew what a wet dream was, I was of a “submissive” mindset. Let me define this better, I love to not have to control everything, I love for someone to be strong and be able to help guide me a bit or take control of the situation. Not because I want to be dominated or a submissive, but because I find it really sexy when the person I am with has put in the same amount of time and effort to learn about what makes the opposite sex, boiling down to, their partner, happy in bed. I find it captivating when there is a balance of give and take. I will have my jaw break before I give up on figuring out what pleases you, so why should I expect less in return? Should I just accept the female/male power dynamic of “women can hold out sex to control their man?” What century are we in? To have put the same amount of thought and research into the male body as I have the female seems fair to me. I am 30 and still learn new things. So how can you as a woman who knows your body is different than others and will often admit it openly, then turn around when something you do doesn’t work on me and say, “but it worked on the last guy”. I don’t want you to pull away because I can’t get off after X minutes like your ex and you feel depreciated or belittled. I am a new person, this is a new chemistry, and I am taking it all in. It is beautiful and it should be overwhelming.

Why am I even talking about this when I am talking about “first encounters”? It all ties into the idea that you just don’t know that first time. You don’t know if you should pull the hair or caress it. You don’t know if you lock eyes if they will think you are getting too “involved” subconsciously and reel back from intimacy. So to even get to the more inner expressions of desire, I muddy my way through every bit of emotion I can get my hands on. It doesn’t matter how often you talked, how many times you met, or what you discussed prior, it is beautifully messy.

“It’s so prehistoric, all men care about is performance, but they have an appendage that doesn’t work if they are worried about performance.” – Love and Other Drugs

After all of this, you are usually fooling around for a certain amount of time before you actually engage in some sort of sexual intercourse. So now my mind is thinking about 10 gazillion things, your body language, your breath, your gaze, your emotes, the fucking lighting, all while trying to keep my little guy ready to go. Even talking about it makes me laugh out loud, there is no way to do this smoothly unless you have the ego of a neanderthal and are just there to get your fuck on. Add to that the worry that the person you are with will feel rejected if it takes you a moment after the foreplay to re-gain your “manliness”, and it is just a “rock hard” formula for disaster.

The sex itself is also an exploration. I have actually taught myself to be more vocal so the person I am with knows more of what feels good, but even then that first time, all I can think of is, “I don’t want to disappoint them” I want them to orgasm and feel good, but sometimes it comes at a small cost of exhausting my own ability, and without the mutual give and take on their end afterwards. When I meet the person who puts in the extremist amount of effort that I do and doesn’t “give up” or get inside their head about what to do next to the point of self depreciating paralysis, I will have met my sexual match. I want to exhaust myself the first time, with a smile on my face, because I know the next time, I have so much more awareness and so much more emotional attachment.(yes I know, emotional attachment… scary)

The best experience I have ever had was when the person I was with, laughed during the awkward moments. They knew it was OK to be messy, it was OK to be scared, it was OK to have anxiety. It is amazingly fun to explore the other person, to ask awkward questions, to look to please the person you are hoping to see again and again. It is fun to touch the parts that have been covered up all night, it is fun to pull back for a moment and look, it is nice to start with the lights on to see what you have wanted to see for however long it has been before getting to this point.

So yes, I am not the perfect first time, but the second time, which could literally be after I go pee and relax for a half hour, I have heard your moans, I have touched your body, I am intrigued by your “sexual” look, I want to feel you again, and all of this lifts a huge amount of that first time pressure and allows you to just be more in the moment, but more connected at the same time. I got to see what you are like versus getting the synopsis in what these days is the obligatory “sexts” prior.

It can be equated to the simplest form of intimacy, the first kiss. After the first kiss, you know something about your partner, you know they are interested in you too. And so you pull about a foot away from them, open your eyes, and giggle a little, then you just start making out as if you have never kissed another person in your life because it feels good, physically of course, but emotionally, to feel as though you are validated. The person you are with is now partly closer to fulfilling the possible “meet the parents” question. OFF THE FIRST KISS? Yes, off the first kiss. I don’t care what anyone says, if you are actually looking for a relationship, open to dating, and want more than a one night stand, your mind will subconsciously run every scenario of the future it can, even if that subconscious moment is a nano second in between pursed lips.

So I am here, stumbling through my love life, and OK with it. Those imperfections, that struggle, that is what makes it worthwhile. Those moments when you get that tiny bit of validation, confirmation, two minds as one, and you literally smile from the inside out… I may have a moment where I am a stallion or a moment where I am a broken mare, but each moment is beautiful for what it is; sharing an intimacy with someone you hope will share it back, and each day that intimacy turns more into familiarity, that face when you are so close your noses touch becomes something you wish you could get a prescription glass to see it more clearly, and that person becomes someone who you look at and think, “It is OK to tell them about my 51st Shade of Grey”, so that familiarity doesn’t become stagnation or routine or a power play. Call it what you will: love making, fucking, first times, last times, they all are part of a process. I was once told through a message on my dating profile,

“”hmmm… This guy is a little too honest.“ … Then I thought, “I use to be that honest… When did that become a bad thing?” “

We set rules and guidelines based on social norms, the news, our friends experiences, disconnected(but well intentioned) advice from those around us, a revolving inspirational meme on tumblr, or a youtube video explaining “how to ____”, but we forget it is nothing more than someone else’s experience. I make sure to apply my own needs, wants, insecurities, and awkward laughter to the person in front of me, not the idea of what is happening, but what IS actually happening. I don’t know how to not be myself and that often scares me.

“That something is difficult is one more reason for us to do it” – Rainer Marie Rilke, Seven Letters to A Young Poet

 

 

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Each Snowflake is Different…

It is on snowy days like these that my past relationship drives a dagger deep into my heart, scratch that, twists the knife that was put there already and slowly working its way out. I guess I saw a lot further than was feasible. I saw a predicted snowy and cold winter but instead of buying salt and shovels, I bought scarves and hot chocolate. I was truly excited about an extreme winter. Screw the cold, the arctic vortex’s, the snow… I had someone to lay next to. Someone who I could stare at in the morning while the blurred snow flakes from the window behind the bed fell in a rhythm. Sitting there watching her eyes move from the dreams she would be happening, feeling the heat of her body, and being pushed up closer to her by my two little furry friends on my right.

Those eyes and lips. They were beautiful. They were kissable. They had emotion. That picture it painted, the picture I didn’t need my camera to capture, the simple memory of the moment, knowing it would be there again and again. But perhaps there is something to a personal muse for my photography, being able to capture the, what are now fleeting moments.

Then arguments start with myself to get out of bed, go on with my day regardless of the heat and affection all around me. But I loved knowing later that night, I had something better than radiator heating to look forward to in my bed. A warm body, a kiss, and her subtle wiggle when I pulled the covers over us that pushed her into me slightly more than I could establish, hand on her boob as I fell asleep.

So instead of walking around and seeing a beautiful snowy day, I see a day that was lost to, once again, a poor choice in someone truly willing to be open with me, truly willing to “for good and bad” with me. Someone who was more worried about the worth than the value. So I am sorry if I want this winter to be over desperately. I hate spring and summer. I love fall. If I could live in fall all year, I would be so happy. But I sit here waiting for the first sunlight to melt away the crystallized memories. For the wind to shift and stop the beauty outside, the snow, the ultimate equalizer for the world. Making it quiet and forcing you to be there with the person you loved. But now it forces me to be with my thoughts. While I embrace this and I look to heal, it doesn’t make it hurt less.

Loved. It is amazing how quickly that can turn into past tense. So do I think the snow is beautiful? Of course! I love it. But I would have “loved” it more if she was here to weather it with me. Actually… I wouldn’t have, it would have been a terrible winter. But it reminds me of how much I yearn for that connection with someone who can turn a cold winter into a warm embrace.

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