I am no stranger to heartbreak. As someone who often lives and loves
fiercely, openly and unapologetically, I have been called “intense” or
“intimidating” or even “exhausting” more times than I’d care to think about. And yet, in spite of having been hurt many
times before, my heart is
still open and ready for love, even as it becomes more and more difficult to
find it.
We started as friends.
I never thought our relationship would be anything more until he
introduced the idea, telling me he had been interested in me when we first met
three years ago. Perhaps it was my own
folly to think that his words were an invitation to embark on the journey
toward something more than a friendship, but that’s how I took them. Suddenly, with that simple introduction of a
thought, there seemed to be Possibility. When he kissed me at the end of our first
date, I knew in that instant that this could be something great. I could maybe even love him.
Tragically, it was not to be. Oh, I wish I could tell you that we had a
great love affair. That we are blissful
and happy, like something out of a fine Hollywood romance movie. After all, he was smart, funny, charming, with
just the right level of naughty, all things I wanted and desired. Sadly, he was also emotionally
unavailable. Worse, he was physically
unavailable too.
For almost three months, I spent way more time pursuing him than he did
me, even when he’d cancel our dates or neglect to communicate. It wasn’t that he didn’t desire me. Hell, he even acted like he liked me. Unfortunately, he was also giving that
impression to three other women (one of whom showed up at his house while I was
there. That was a whole different type
of dating movie. Fatal Attraction maybe.).
Yup, the boy had all the earmarks of a man whore.
But I am nothing if not adaptable. I decided to put aside whatever
feelings I might have had and to take a step back from the idea of a romantic
relationship. I figured if he was only
interested in sex, well, why not be Friends with Benefits? Every
man whore’s dream, right?
Surprisingly, even that was a challenge. While one might assume that I would be the
one getting emotionally attached, he seemingly flip flopped between wanting to
take me up on the benefits and being absolutely terrified of following
through. Sure, we could text (steamy,
torrid, filthy and intelligent texts with no pictures), but to actually have
him take me up on any of it? No,
instead, I seemed to be the one who could better separate sex from
emotion. I was the one who was honest and
forthcoming about my desire and my intentions.
I was the one who could just as easily go to coffee as to bed with
him. I was the one who was held at arm’s
length. And yet, he was still stuck in my craw.
After weeks of the “Will We or Won’t We?” dance, we finally
engaged in the horizontal mambo. It was
just the once, and really nothing more than a hasty quickie after work. Definitely
fun and, I thought, easy going. He absolutely panicked. When I saw him a few days later, he seemed
skittish and nervous, like he didn’t know what to say. It was so awkward that I, in my usual habit
of overthinking, could only imagine the worst—some of which was confirmed when
he showed up later at a bar I was at with another woman (“She’s just a
friend. Honest.”). Whether we (or they) were dating or not, I
still felt absolutely disrespected, used and, well, small. Needless to say,
that is not OK with me. I am a strong, capable, decisive girl, so, pardon the
language, fuck that.
I ended up mourning the loss of our "relationship" that night with
copious amounts of alcohol, dancing, tacos and cake. You know, as one does.
Ah well. Here’s to
making better choices in the future. May
they lead my open heart to someone who recognizes its gift.
