Ain'ta That Good News

The good news is I'm angry. While I can't and don't entirely absolve myself from what happened, I'm pissed off by how I've been treated. I'm sad that this is how it worked out, and genuinely thought it'd be different between us. I'm a little scared to be going back to work in the middle (end?) of all this knowing how gossipy and insular our workplace can be. I'm frustrated by my thing social network in this town, how everyone I'm close to is in some way connected back to Open Sky. Its coming off as a bit incestuous, and I don't know who I can trust who isn't somehow also involved in his side of things. Not like there are sides, there aren't. I have very limited desires to trash talk him, but it would be nice to be able to talk openly and not wonder how I'm being judged or where my words will be passed on to. I need some girlfriends in this state, who I can whine too, and some friend-boys who will kiss it and make it better and tell me they'll take care of the problem. I need friends who will take me out drinking when something like this happens again.

The more I think about everything that happened between us the more skeezed out I get. For starters, I find it incredibly strange that he would tell me about getting accused with raping a girl and having to leave school for a year to let things blow over. Tell me at all, much less tell me while trying to get in bed with me. I'm a bit disgusted with myself that I thought it was cute at the time--a vulnerable disclosure. Now the whole conversation just creeps me out. I think the scheduling thing was a convenient excuse to not get involved and to justify what amounts to basically using me for sex. I'm upset about the being used part, not the sex part. That I will mourn the loss of...but I kept my integrity.

I come again to the inevitable conclusion that I think I just can't do casual sex. I remember how much hooking up with Noah tore me up because I couldnt rationalize it away. I don't get get the concept, its foreign to me on so many levels. I kind of wish a little bit that I could be nonchalant about sex and love, I think it would make so many adult interactions so much easier. I think some of my hestitations come back to never having the balls to go after someone I want until they show interest in me. I end up infatuated with people because they come to my level, then it's all ok. Not because neccesarily interested in them or god forbid attracted to them, but simply due to the novelty that someone actually likes me and wants to spend time with me. My thoughts on the subject often come into play way too late in the game. But more than that I just dont think I can be intimate with someone without getting my brain involved. I cant really imagine being attracted physically to someone enough that I want to sleep with him, and not be attracted to any emotional parts. I suck at compartmentalizing anyway, but that I think is an unreachable goal--keep sex and like and love completely separate. I don't think I have it in me.

I liked that he was interested in me physically, intellectually, even it seemed like emotionally. I liked that I felt comfortable around him, and was myself. I liked the conversations, about books and culture and world affairs and current events. I liked how I could be honest and open and blunt with him (except for when I wasn't). I loved the snowshoeing adventure. I liked playing cards and being real too. I liked that he was taller than me, and no lie I really liked his abs.

I didn'tlike how weird things got as soon as we weren't together. How there was always something else he had to do instead of be with me. I didn't like how much I wondered about what was in his brain. I didn't like the way he didn't often seem to care whether I enjoyed the sex. I didn't like the way it felt secret between us. I didn't like how I always wondered what he thought bout me. I hated how lovesick and distracted he made me feel for two months, always day dreaming about some nice thing that was going to happen. I hate how self-centered he clearly seems to me after writing all of this.

I'm proud of myself for letting go. I'm proud I allowed myself to experience physical pleasure. I'm proud I did this, even though I knew I'd like as not end up hurt. I'm proud I lost my head for a while, that I let things play out. I'm proud I showed up, was honest with myself, the situation, and with him. I asked a little while back for courage and grace to be truthful and embrace the experience, and I think I was able to do both those things. It didn't end the way I woulda liked, but I did the best I could. I opted in. I dont think I would have been able to a year ago, or even 6 months ago, before I came out here. I think I would have been too afraid.

I'm happy to have him off of my chest. It is a bit of a relief on top of everything else I've been feeling. I don't have to sit with my crazy girl brain for another two months as miserable as the last two were in some respects. I got good and definitive answers, closure, and can get on with things. I can go back to the job that I love with a clear head, and not be constantly looking over my shoulder, or dreaming up harebrained excuses to run into him. I can go out with people I meet and not wonder if I should be telling them that I'm seeing someone. I can get back to the work of building a life here, and remind myself that I have to be the kind of person that I want to be around before anyone else will.

There will be other rapids, I know there will be. I don't quite believe that given my three year dry spell, but I know it to be true somewhere deep in the death throws of my stupid girl brain. This might be another long stretch of flat paddling, but there are always other rapids coming.

I'm so looking forward to going back to work on Saturday. My body and heart and soul are craving it, and my brain will hopefully get there shortly.