I realized the other day that a number of these posts were written with one particular subject in mind. A real first for me. Usually, to post or to publish about one person allows me to free them from the grips of my subconscious--apparently I judged this one too soon. And in fact, I had. It had only been the upward climb along the roller coasters tracks-- I hadn't even felt the effects of what happens when you go down and then back up again, and then down and up...
Perhaps, I shouldn't have played into his games: his text message Friday evening provoked my "I'm too busy" response, followed by his "tomorrow?" The game began again early Saturday--a call at 11am could mean only one of two things and it would have been incredibly out of character for him to suggest we walk through the park holding hands. I refused a second time. If this was what we had finally surmounted to, well, I was at least going to enjoy it.
I consulted girlfriends, claiming I needed advice on how to deal with this new development. I knew what I was most likely going to do with or without their advice but I still needed to mull it over for some time. One friend told me I was nuts and was going to get hurt even if I said I was indifferent. Another said that I should go for it as long as I knew what I was doing, which made me wonder: do we ever really know what we are doing? I had no clue at that point but I knew I didn't want to appear too eager or obvious by the fact that I was over joyed we would be seeing each other again.
Later that day, I agreed to meet him for a nightcap. Code for guaranteed sex. It wasn't that I was desperate but the fact that I knew I would be comfortable. He knew what I liked and I knew what he preferred. I was tempted by the fact that no matter what happened the next day I would enjoy it.
The rest of the day passed in slight agony. I wasn't sure if I had made the right decision and worse, I was somewhat fearful that he might change his mind about the entire rendez-vous when the time came. I should have canceled right then and there because twenty minutes before we were supposed to meet he text messaged that he was too tired to see me. I wanted to throw-up or at least write a nasty text back but I did neither. Instead I promptly deleted it, put on my heals, and went out. I was not playing anymore and I would only admit indifference. Martinis and vodka shots at the bar down the street would suffice.
Two weeks later, I was out with friends enjoying one of those nights you could never plan. I hadn't spoken to him since the night he pulled out but his radar must have gone off again. "Where are you?" the message read. I gave in this time for no other reason to take what I had wanted to take from him previously. Fueled by liquid courage, I arrived at his apartment ready to pick a fight and of course he found it to be a turn on.
I left his apartment the next morning, practically sneaking out in the same manner that I had the first time we had spent the night together. "Got back together with my man last night but I think I was dreaming, he didn't feel quite right," ran through my head as I walked the few blocks home. What I hadn't realized was that it wouldn't be the same anymore because I wasn't the same anymore. Selfish sex is only fun during a one night stand not when you've projected everything you want someone to be onto him. He won't ever deliver.
In real time, it took another week for me to realize this when he stood me up for an engagement he promised he would accompany me to. But the wonderful thing about it was I finally got it through my head that I was completely wasting my time! And between all those broken promises I found something even great--the confidence to demand more.
-C
