#the do it scared instinct that already hates big sections of text is shaking and quivering

[the-sunshine-dims]

Staring at artfight with world-weary eyes and collapsing into a mist of fine powdered ash

[xoxo-grad-girl-blog]

“What do you want?” / “What do you mean?”

I would like to calmly put this on paper. Or on a keyboard and thus the screen, perhaps. I doubt it will make a difference towards your feelings in any way. Perhaps it will feel like bullshit from your end, like some things feel like bullshit from mine. But I can’t quite shake off several things, and I’ve been trying so hard. Thinking, kind of like you, of trying out new medications. That level trying. 

Like with everything, there will be a layer to your reaction and response to this. The layers go like this:

Read and comprehend it and be affected by it.

Read and be affected by it.

Be affected by it.

Do they seem too simple or too complicated as a breakdown of reactions? I struggle with the middle. Everything is either perfect or failing, and either too complicated or too simple. I like to think that I am deep, that my narrative is quite sophisticated, and at times beautiful. But when reading to just gather a point out of it, it can feel like fluff. In that sense, we cross-judge each other, or perhaps I projectingly judge both of us.

The truth is... I am so confused.

Chronologically, I sit and read into the events, I lay in bed and read into the events, I sit in class and read into the events, I sit in my bathroom and read into the events. 

Despite your best advice, my best instinct, and my friends’ diverse opinions, what I do is hold stationary somehow and read into the events. 

These events, in my head, play out like this:

1. Dave meets me in a restaurant. It’s probably my 20th tinder date in the past 3 weeks. He had even guessed I’d have them planned, as he asked me out nearly a week in advance. I had run late and hoped that the usual “I’m sorry I’m a girl” excuse will prevent any negative reaction.

2. That same day, Dave does quite a few nice and swoon-worthy things, making me feel happy, secure, and comfortable.

3. Dave asks if I want to spend time with him, as he is busy and wants to know if I’ll be around or open to his company. I say yes, because the date was lovely.

4. Dave texts a bit more than I would expect. It is sweet and so pleasant.

5. We go out again, in daytime, again, to see the Endeavor. Dave romantically brings an orchid. We have a lovely time out.

6. Dave continues to text and call. For first two weeks, I am intensely talking to Edwin to distract myself from poor and desperate-seeming habit of over-texting, and to allow space for effort. It feels nice. 

7. Third date is scheduled late, perhaps because I was studying. Between late scheduling and my lateness, we leave my place when most venues begin to close. After what felt a long drive, we agree on Urth cafe. Dave intensifies his speech of women being hoes, his need for a girlfriend, how nothing I do would scare him away. He says “he makes big babies, but not to worry, because C-sections are available”. He emphasizes on not wanting children, although he had previously said this wasn’t going to be serious. I am minorly confused. Once back, I insist it’s too early to go to my place, but Dave wants to cuddle, so we go to his friend’s place. He says sweet things, half asleep, discusses his boner recovery, and expresses his wants of seeing either boobs or butt, or just beneath my dress, but it is confusing, so he clarifies that I should say “take it off, Dave, take it off”. As I’m comfortable and interested in taking it off anyway, dress comes off, right as Dave quickly drifts into his close-to-sleep state. Nothing really happens. I am surprised.

8. We continue to talk. Date 4 is already scheduled for far too late, and it is happening on my bed. Over ice-cream which lasted a very short time. We are cuddling and I am asked whether I want to do it, and I say I don’t know. So Dave says I need to decide. And the truth is yes, I do want it, and yes, I am attracted to him, and yes, he made me feel non-disposable and respected, and he even said he had had a completely negative STD test, and I am going to definitely do it, I know, and he is in my bed and suggesting for it to happen there and then, so I say yes. It is not all Dave. It is Dave being Dave and one ex, another ex, another ex, another ex, it is insecurities and desires and dreams and wants and oh so many wants, and passion and closeness. It is everything. It is all Dave and none is Dave. So it happens. And right there and then, it feels oh so important for it to just happen: for it to happen, for me to feel free, to feel like no one will ever again be able to say I’ve somehow only been theirs. All the firsts are done and bid farewell and this... this feels comfortable. The security of it fuels me through this entire time, calms me down. The feeling like I should never again be so irreversibly broken.

9. I study more and more. Dave texts and calls more and more. He misses me from Mexico, although he told me he’d be going, only a day or two before departure. He and Josh find it fun to on and off talk to me. It’s kind of nice.

10. The talking continues. The texting continues. And it is all quite lovely. My other conversations are dying out. I am allowing him more and more in. Because he feels nice. And because he insists on it. And frankly, I am weary of endings, I am weary of giving too much, and I am weary of many, many, if not all the things I could possibly do wrong, or have done wrong to me.

11. We feel closer. He feels oh so good for my work. He is considerate, he insists I work and not just see him, that seeing him is not a priority, and it makes me smile widely. How wonderful is that? I can smile into my phone in one instance, then solve differential equations in another. It had never happened before. It had always been obsessive and insane and intense and anxious. It had involved hours of thought, writing, reflecting,confusion, and he is insisting that I should let him in, this guy who is somehow going against all that is sane or smart to do with someone like me in December. 

12. January comes and we had gone through a “Christmas” weekend together. And it meant a lot to me, both time and feelings-wise. You see, every time we saw each other felt like I was giving up my life’s goal to see Dave. Like the hour or two we’d spend together was torn away from the time I needed to do amazing, grand things. And he had been wonderful. He’d drive an hour to see me, he’d take me out, he’d be sweet and romantic and handsome. But it still translated to the work time having been given away rather than utilized. And so it justified the efforts as equivalents, because I really, neither had the time to give, nor much of anything else to give, but myself. But to give yourself to someone new while you are still gluing yourself back together, while he insists on it, has felt huge and so worthy it all.

13. I go on happy pills. Dave calls on my way back from the doctor and we talk. Later that night, he says “I already thought you were amazing, and I can only imagine how amazing you will be now that you are getting help.” And that line, a cheesy, simple, loaded line meant the world to me.

14. Dave shows up same night or next and for the first time sees me with messy hair, puffy eyes, wearing 5 year old jeans and a sweater that looks like a long sleeve tee. And we hold each other for an infinity. And it feels so loaded with meaning.

15. Within next few days, I realize how little time I had, and remove nearly all social media apps out of my phone, including tinder. Dave insists I don’t need it, but I had managed to not give meaning to anything unusual or unsatisfying by talking it out. There were people on tinder who, instead of hooking up, were listening about Dave and me, were following closely, giving advice, comforting, offering themselves too, naturally. So I still felt free, I felt like I could leave unhurt if I started hating it. It had been important, and it had meant a lot more freedom for Dave to mess up in any way I would particularly be sensitive to.

16. Dave continues to prioritize my work and my test.

[....]

Upset feelings happen.

[...]

17. To a complaint I had, Dave reacts jokingly and persists that it is an unreasonable one and that I am inexperienced. 

18. Now, I’m basically a dude with boobs. This is hitting hard and upsetting me further.

19. After being left alone for a day to get “space”, Dave wants to talk and is being his usual cocky self. So after a day of having been upset, having been left alone without a release of emotions, to obsess like a psycho, and having been tired of the intensity of it, I tell him I’m not quite sure I want to talk. To which he responds by giving me “more space”. Now, this is a problem, as I had already had space and hated it, and truthfully, more would have been accomplished had I been offered cuddles, but I had been upset, and had been basically cut off from talking to for at least a day, was I supposed to get over my pride and be like “excuse me, but space doesn’t work for me, won’t you come give me a hug instead?”

20. Once Dave has deemed my anger had toned down, he begins to ask for explanations and begins to strategize. In all his strategies, there is none of what I want, and the fact that it is not there does not make me want to tell him to do it, but instead makes me think he is a selfish asshole, because it is practically impossible to be dumb enough to not care about it.

21. The space, another space, and clear lack of care for partner’s pleasure that doesn’t involve his own at the same time had now propagated into 10 days to a few weeks of feeling hurt, upset, and unheard.

22. Dave, conversely, insists that he is the hurt one, because he knows the way he had been acting has been quite nice and as such, he does not deserve to deal with pettiness he is perceiving the reactions to be. What this says is that what he was doing for those weeks my work had been placed up top was not easy for him and had been more than he could comfortably offer. Which meant the smallest sign of criticism was taken to heart on every level, rather than just one.

23. Nothing is concretely addressed as I would expect it. And I am ongoingly asked for directions. Like I am the only one supposed to have a grand plan and a clear, non-selfish idea of what a relationship looks like. Questions are confusing. The more I am asked, the more I pull away, wondering how could this guy not get such simple things. Like saying “whatever” and not meaning whatever. Or saying “I almost came” and not knowing that meant “I didn’t”. 

24. This weighs down. A LOT. I am anxious, worried and sad. Tuesday arrives and I joke how I’d put him right back where I’d found him. Conversation continues. Up until then, for solid two weeks, we had been addressing a physical problem over the phone. 

25. He says it should end. I sit there shocked and teary eyed. Another man who had me, completely had me, for a time of his choosing, and could have had me for as long as he’d want, had he just improved a little, and they all choose the easy route out - to either do nothing and stay or to do nothing and leave. But never change. Another fucking guy who had made me let him in too soon, and who somehow fucked up and couldn’t handle feeling devalued by my words as much as I felt by his actions. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? “It isn’t solution-oriented” is like an insult by now. Of course it is. It is oriented to you feeling how I felt and learning that it is no way to handle someone you want, and it is no way to be. It is never there for any other reason. But if unaddressed, it will keep going until it feels deeply personal. 

26. So I swallowed and agreed we should end it. And then got photos  from our last date. And instead of being left the fuck alone, I was left the fuck with memories. To sit all night and tear up over and over and over again, to sit alone, without tinder, without other guys, without any escape mechanism, which were so strongly discouraged, and so strategically replaced by this one guy who wanted to have all of me to himself until I told him how one of his actions made me feel and he decided I was not worth his time anymore. “You want to orgasm? Nope. You want to complain? Yeah, here is some time off to avoid hearing it, then if you do, time for you to go.”

27. It had been a Tuesday. And the guy who made sure I worked had suddenly cared so little that he’d break up with me the day before my weekly round of deadlines, knowing I had not completed the work. Telling me, casually, to go do it, like nothing had happened.

28. I stayed up from Tuesday morning until Wednesday night, forgetting meds, forgetting to work, forgetting everything but him. Because by then he had crept up my feelings quietly while I was doing other things.

29. I went to sleep on Wednesday. I woke up tired. I dreamed all night of past events, over and over again, trying to predict or resolve them.

30. I went to sleep on Thursday after agreeing to meet on Friday, for purposes of “closure”. It sounded off. I had been told HE was trying to keep me in HIS life. That HE needed reasons to. That HE wanted closure. After HE had ended it. It could simply not add up into anything good. He wanted to see me again? So he could completely tear my heart down? Maybe have that breakup sex he talked about.

31. We met up and were happy to see each other. I talked most things out. He listened. He argued. He tried to explain himself. Ultimately, I decided to let go of my prescribed requirements for him, because he felt good. We drove. And came back. And had made no conclusion, but it felt like we did, because we were both responding well to being around each other.

32. So we walked into my apartment and he picked me up, carried me in and dropped me on the bed, pulling our clothes off, and looking starved and determined. And he gave me all the attention I had wanted in bed. And I loved it. I loved it all. And I didn’t want him to go. But he insisted he had to, and had to, and had to. And when I asked if this meant we were back together he flat out said “yeah, sure”, like his main goal had been to drop me on the bed and not make up with me.

33. So now he is busy. He texts less. He schedules hardly anything. He still calls, though. He texts so little I cannot help but text first a few times, which proceeds to make me feel further vulnerable. 

34. He has a plan of some sorts. Either it is manipulative, with an attempt to get me to do what he’d like or get me to give him more attention in return for attention he’d given me, or he’s lost interest. Or perhaps he is also still recovering from a really sad week.

35. He now hardly cares about the work I have. He doesn’t say “go study and I’ll talk to you later” with later actually happening. Sometimes he just says “go study” as a courtesy, or checks in with “have you finished work?”. It feels empty or confused. He insists he’s busy, but people like us know that one is only busy when they don’t care to make time. I made time for him to come over. As he made time to do it. It wasn’t a lazy Sunday and we had nothing better to do. It was stolen hours and stolen calls and stolen texts. It was more than either of us could give, but we gave it.

36. Until he hurt me. And until he got hurt by me feeling hurt. How self-centered must one be to spin their feelings into the spotlight over my bruised and battered ones, over me finally gathering myself into feeling them? How self-centered must he be to leave me because I couldn’t feel the way he had planned? 

37. So now this is my default. There aren’t bubbly butterflies when my phone pings, because it is about 50% likely that it would be him, and even when it is him, the texts are short and sparse: “Wassup?”, “I’m tired”, an occasional “I miss you”. He insists that he just got busier because of class time he had added. But I feel like if he doesn’t know it yet, he is, at the very least, subconciously pulling away. Dave, though? C’mon, he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he is loving every second of it. Especially saying that he’s not a jerk.

38. So, what are we now? No fucking clue. But I do know I feel like an infrequently visited almost-something. I feel like this will break again, or I feel like it will never feel the way it used to. Even if he reads every single line of this, and especially then. While it teaches me about permanence of words, I can’t help but feel hurt that I have to be the one who is not treated right and the one to forgive, and while doing so, say nothing negative, if I want a relationship to continue the same way it started.

39. A lesson for future or a lesson for now? It is insane to expect me to take an extra hour or two of travel and see him in his pocket of the city, while all the work I do and all the time I have directly feed into a hugely meaningful and shiny degree. All the time he has is going to doing chores and attending classes “for fun”, but he still gets to complain about being busier, because everything he is doing right now is just that useful. And, to be honest, I do not want to complain myself. I just really, really want someone who will make me forget all my complaints and add none more.