You Keep Saying ‘Platonic’…

I have been having some of the most fun of my life the last few weeks. It’s been cool… not having to worry about the pressure of impressing anyone. Just hanging out with friends and dancing like a fool for the fun of it. Seriously, last night, two people whipped out their cell phones. It was pretty silly looking. If it goes viral, I’m putting it in my acting reel.

It has been getting me to thinking about my relationship status. I was in the longest relationship of my life, my first live-in boyfriend, and around the middle of October, for various reasons, I was officially dumped and, pretty much, excommunicated. It hurt, because I thought we were patching things up, and that’s what I wanted. However, by trying to nurse that relationship back to fruition, I neglected to socialize elsewhere. I have struck up a near-partnership (only marked by the lack of actual projects) with a good friend of mine who is of the same gender. Had I not been dumped, I would not have had the opportunity to go out with people. I spent so much of my time with him, waiting for him, that I am only just beginning to realize how much guilt (not external, but internal) there was surrounding my level of selfishness. 

I felt like I had to be the perfect ’50s housewife, like my lot in life was to be at a man’s beck and call. This ideology is completely 180 from the ideals I held even five years ago. I don’t recognize myself anymore… and, I suppose, neither did my lover. I can’t say I’m doing things for him, but there is a part of me that wants to impress him with my newfound love of socialization. Maybe he even loves me back, but he’s doing the working thing, I’m doing the school thing. Our paths, I hope, will intersect again someday. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wake up and expect to feel him lying next to me, only to be hit by reality moments later: “Not now – maybe never again.” 

The thing that has come to my attention the most in the past few weeks is how willing most men I’ve encountered (of the hetero variety) are to be sexual with me. The thing is, I don’t want to be sexual while I’m still pining for my ex. Apparently, the Universe/ my Subconscious doesn’t either, because I won’t let myself. This might not be a bad thing, tell you the truth. I haven’t been, pardon the entendre, dry this long since I started being active… I maintain my health, of course, on a regular basis, but as far as having a partner? Nope. The drive is there, the intention to use men for sex is DEFINITELY there, but there’s something that makes me stop, makes me find an excuse to back out, or never get to that point at all. Maybe I’ve become a voyeur and no longer wish to participate. Maybe my past experiences working in bars has made me cold and uninterested in people as a whole. I have no idea, I just feel like I have this block that’s keeping me from pursuing a normal part of my life.

Perhaps I don’t want to have to worry about my feelings right now. That seems legit. I mean, think of a puppy in a petshop window. Eager, trusting, playful. You come visit the puppy on the regular, intending to buy it. You notice the puppy perk up every time he sees you coming in. You intend to buy the puppy. He wags his tail, more excited than you’ve ever seen him, anticipating going home, being placed inside a kennel (after seeing so many of his friends get taken home before, he knows he’s outta this stinkin’ joint), and then – the boy changes his mind. The thought of seeing this puppy every day, growing up into a dog, maybe dying on him someday, not being able to afford vet bills, his parents might not let him keep it, etc, overwhelms him, and he leaves the puppy. He puts the kennel on the counter and walks away.

For a while, the puppy waits for him to come back, thinking maybe he just forgot his magic paper at home. He’ll be back. He loves me. I love him. We’re best friends. I’ve seen others get taken home on the first day they meet someone, surely I’m worth being taken home!! Days, weeks pass – no more boy. No more love, laughter, loyalty – no more hope. It’s just a sleepy puppy who refuses to even acknowledge the other customers, who would cry if he knew how. Now, imagine the boy comes back two months later, only to do the exact same thing.

That’s how I feel. I don’t know why, but it’s just over. I understand how intimidating it might be, but he insisted on getting close, in talking out whatever problems we had. We made promises to each other that were broken before the same time next week. I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. Now, I’m trying to move on. I can’t forget – Dear Gods, it’s like he’s haunting me – but I can ignore the memories as soon as they come flooding back. I don’t just sit in front of my PC all night watching my phone anymore. I feel the pain, and then I get to go, “Ooh, shiney,” and forget again. I’m starting to be one of those people who habitually goes out – I’m starting to become a Dwight Yoakam song.

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