Tag Archives: girlfriend

My what a difference a few weeks can make

25 Sep

It’s been awhile– but remember that date I went on? With adventurous girl?

Yeah…. I like her. A lot. and she likes me. and wants us to be exclusive.

And we hike and kiss and hold hands and she is a bit introverted and a bit guarded but brilliant and funny and sarcastic and likes theater and likes medicine and I LIKE HER MUCHO and it is freaking both of us out because… it’s been what… 2.5- 3 weeks? I don’t know about this “exclusive” thing. But I know I’m not seeing anyone else right now. I didn’t mean for this to be a serious relationship or seem serious at all– but I think I’m actually maybe more into her than she is to me! But I don’t know man. Is that too soon?

Mmmm.

Mmmm.

What’s the plan? I have no idea. But I do know that I am intrigued by her, and she is tough tough so tough… until there is this glimmer of vulnerability, this laugh, this surprise that she is laughing. And it is adorable and I crave it, and she is a good kisser, and I am not sure what to do with her.

Life is interesting.

8 Sep

SO, remember that one time two weeks ago I said I didn’t ever want to date again?

Yeah …… well ….. lies.

Clarification– I want to date, but I don’t want to date seriously. I want to date in a way that is not complicated, that is fun and doesn’t make my heart hurt, that I enjoy doing. I met this gal. 

I know, I know.

I told you I went on this date the other day. It went really well. We proceeded to then spend another 4-5 hours together on the next day, and most of yesterday as well. She is lovely.

I am excited. 

I haven’t had that fluttery excited feeling about meeting someone new since I met Lovely. I will call this gal Adventurous. Adventurous and I have a lot in common, including our perspective on relationships and life. We just met 3 days ago, but I feel like I’ve known her much longer.

I can kind of relate to Lovely’s month long relationship becoming intense fairly quickly.

I don’t want things to be intense though, just to set the temperature in this place and keep it here. Fun and light and exciting. I love that phase.

 

Coming Out- Part II of Aftermath

29 Aug

I know I did a drastic thing.

I knew this, and feared it, and prepped myself for it many times over.

The devastation of Lovely essentially wanting to erase me overwhelmed me and everything else stopped mattering (has stopped mattering). My life, my health, just everything seems so insignificant next to it. So much so that coming out to my family was like draining a wound– it had to be done to heal.

Sigh. Fuck.

I knew it would be bad. I knew it would be bad.

But.. I was kind of hoping they would be like we’re confused but of course we love you.

Ha. HA!

Not a chance.

My mom won’t talk to me at all on the phone. She’s been texting long essays to the effect of “Wow, thought I knew you, but I don’t” and “Well it definitely changes things, there is a major wedge between us” and “I am deeply saddened by your choice, I’m not going to act or pretend that it’s okay because I don’t.”

Sigh. Fuck. Shit.

I just want to get to the part where they accept me blah blah and my love and who I am! I am happy for me, why can’t they be? I like being a whole person and not pieces of one, I like being the same person around my Love as my friends as my family (cutting out a few expletives here and there).

My mom claims she wants a “great, close” relationship– well here it is. You know what you don’t share with your parents in a surface relationship? Anything hard. Anything controversial. Anything dissident from their beliefs. So parents with kids that don’t share that stuff are fooling themselves if they think it isn’t there.

Real life, knowing ME, knowing YOU– sometimes it isn’t pretty, and it is messy, and complicated. The thing that makes me mad is that my relationship with Lovely was ONLY wonderful EXCEPT the family thing (which made it messy and complicated). There was nothing wrong or dirty or bad or evil or hateful or sinful about who we were together. We had a great fucking relationship, and it was one of the healthiest I’ve been in until the end of it– and that was because we both were like WHY end something awesome?

I am trying not to be mad at my mom. Trying to be understanding. Trying to give her space. But I AM mad. I AM upset. Why do I have to suffer because of their prejudices, or feel like I have to apologize for who I am?

I will not fucking apologize for my sexuality– I spent too many years having too many people try and get me to be ashamed of something that is mine and FUCK THEM not theirs. Go be angsty and ashamed of your own damned body and sex life, and leave me out of it.

I mean, obviously I don’t say these things to my parents. I love them, right? But they are supposed to love me too, and loving someone means letting them be who they are without shaming them for it. ARGH how do you gently do this?

How do you give someone time and try not to be mad at them for taking too long (it’s been like 3 days man!)

Tell meeeeee!

“Protect your heart”

2 Jun

Something they always told us was to “protect our hearts”– like for any of you bachelorette aficionados (I mean… no… I’m not, but if I were…. there may have been the weird “guard and protect your heart” guy. Look it up.)

I talked with an old friend yesterday about how a lovely woman I met had extracted herself from the clutches of being in a cult, and my writing struck her. Scary, maybe?

The thing is– there is sometimes truth to the things that infuriate us. 

It is hard to have feelings. Duh. Common human experience, no? 

I have to wonder how you ever get over anyone you ever truly loved. 

Punched punched punched in the stomach.

I would say don’t think of them. Ever. I have done this and forced myself out of love. (Read: past situation– he had a girlfriend, I was a puppydog starry eyed opposite of realist.)

But we never had a real romantic relationship.

But then…. then there are the real connections I’ve (I almost said “you” my odd dissociative tendency I suppose) had.

And it still gathers in the bottom of my chest and inflates like a sadistic balloon hollowing out my insides until I have a hard time breathing. 

She, she, she. I have a heart attack like it is a casual thing you do. Drink your coffee. Brush your teeth.

I wonder if I will ever not have the pangs of missing her or missing what our lives could have been together. I try to close off my mind and wrestle away the thoughts (ugh thoughts). Does it get better? How long? 6 mo? A year?

 

(also since this was angsty— poetry blog angst if you’d like).

(ps– I actually would love real live strategies on how you’ve tried to get over people!)