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dieuleveut · 4 years

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January 22nd, 2018

Hooty hoo. We had unprotected sex, and he’s admitted that he’s in love with me.

It’s almost wild how parallel he is to Matt, or maybe I’m just under the ex bias. Where you’re still not quite over your ex, because everything about the new guy reminds you of the last guy. But I don’t think that’s it.

On Friday, we had a triple threat date. We got coffee at Leaves ‘n Beans and it was a nice, cute chat. A few awkward silences here and there but nothing major we could fault ourselves for. The Peoria Tower was within our view and he suggested that we go walk up there and check out the view. We left the coffee shop around 5:30pm. When he picked me up an hour earlier, I decided not to bring a coat since it wasn’t that cold. But now a brisk wind had picked up. He noticed and asked if I wanted to borrow his jacket. Kindly (proudly), I refused. It wasn’t that cold. The tower was closed, so we just ended up walking to our next date spot: Cayenne. It was a niche little Mexican fusion restaurant. Lots of great decor and overall a fantastic ambiance. Again, conversation was nice and cute. He’s got a dangerously infectious smile.

Afterwards, we drove through the Peoria Heights, looked at some nice buildings. I’m trying to show off my House Hunter skills and describe what certain house styles are. He doesn’t know what a Victorian house looks like, and I’m thinking “how do you not? It’s such an eye sore lmao.”

We drove to Family Video, rented The Omen. We get to my apartment. The movie doesn’t work. We make out. After some strong deliberation on my part and tired of making out to the intro screen of The Omen, I invited him back to my room. Mostly to make out, but one thing lead to another and we’re giving each other head. He eats pussy like a champ. Seriously. Like his life depended on it. Oh my god. I returned the favor, but started getting tired. And while he said he liked it, I’m sure my style is too gentle for his taste. And again, things got heated and we just said, “fuck it let’s fuck.” He didn’t bring a condom and tbh I hate condom sex. So yeah, unprotected. Didn’t so much as ask him about STDs. Made him swear to pull out. Thank god he did, but jesus did he blow a load! It was dark and I couldn’t see where he all came, but I felt something splatter on left eye and all over my stomach. I know I should be grossed out, but I think I like being covered in cum. Hooty hoo.

We hung out for a bit, trembling and sweaty and tired, before he left. Then I spent the rest of the night wondering or worried what was going to happen next. Mostly, I was concerned about possible pregnancy. I scooped a finger in there a few times to make sure I didn’t pull out any semen. I honestly couldn’t tell enough to ease my mind, so I made a firm decision to get Plan B the next day. I spent most of the night googling whether or not I should, and finding cheaper alternatives since Plan B is damn near $50. Understandably so. You wouldn’t want it cheaper, then people would be buying that shit like candy.

So I prepared to just maybe have this be a one night stand. I had admitted to him what happened with Matt, how Matt cheated on me. I opened up to this guy and he got his smashing time so maybe he was done. I was going to be okay with that. Not that I was. No no I wanted to continue to have a good time with this guy. But I know how the stories go. I didn’t want to be disappointed.

But the next day, he texts me asking to hang out again. And he specifically says that he doesn’t want to fall into sex every time we hang out. He genuinely wants to bond, cuddle and be with me. That makes me so happy! So I invited him over yesterday even though I was planning on a Saturday just for myself. I’d been up since 8am and reasonably tired, but I thought I had enough energy to hang out with him. He didn’t tire me out. He gave me energy.

We watched Scott Pilgrim on my computer, kissed and cuddled during the movie. Afterwards, we got a little lost in each other’s limbs. You know? When you just kind of lay on top one of another? Head on a shoulder, head on a stomach, buried face in hair. And we just talked. It was flirting, chatting, being. Then the talk got serious. I could tell that he had had an “uh-oh” moment.

“You’re not...falling for me, are you?” I asked. He got quiet. Broke eye contact, covered his face in his elbow. Softly, he replied, “Yeah.”

Shit. Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was just supposed to be a fun thing, a good time, a nice memory. This wasn’t supposed to be a THING. And then he said something that legitimately triggered me because I could swear Matt had said the exact same thing.

“What if I don’t want to just be a memory? I don’t want us to just forget about each other when you leave.”

I told him that I just wanted to have a good time, and he got visibly upset. He did the same thing Matt did. He stopped talking to me. He shut off. He turned around, put his socks on as if he was about to leave.

I could almost feel as though this may be the last time I ever saw or spoke to him. Gotta have some good last words. “I’ve had a good time with you. If I never see you again, just know that I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

It took him a bit to respond (man, do Aries have a way with pregnant pauses), but he turned over and asked why I bothered to go out with him in the first place then. I started crying, “What am I supposed to do? Not make friends while I’m here? Am I supposed to just shut myself off from everyone so I don’t hurt anybody after I leave? Is there something so wrong with just wanting to make good memories with people while I’m here, without having to make it SOMETHING.”

“No, no, I’m sorry that’s not what I meant,” he went for me. Fuck. I hate it when I cry in tense conversations. I know I’m a cute crier and it’s hard to hate me when I cry. I tell him to not pity me but I didn’t get the point across. I think crying in front of him made him fall more in love with me.

I don’t know how the conversation waned out, but he ended up snuggling the back of his head on my stomach, his body resting between my thighs. I stroke his hair as we talk. I start, “Maybe it’s better that I’m not staying in Peoria for any longer than I am. That way we won’t get more attached and won’t--”

“Wait, what do you mean?” He turns to look at me. Fuck, I think I’m putting my foot in my mouth again. Stop it.

“Never mind. Nothing.” I pull an Aries move on an Aries, see how you like it.

So the night ends well. We make out for a little bit more and he leaves, but not after a loooong Minnesotan goodbye. I also need to stop trying to start the same inside jokes with Eric that I did with Matt. I tried to reintroduce “henlo” and the Minnesotan goodbye. I said to Eric “you’re so snuggly/cuddly” the same way Matt used to say to me.

Anyway, this is a long entry. My bad. Mostly for formatting it in novel-style. That’s just how I’d like to picture yesterday. Now, today, things are more tense. I haven’t seen him all day but we had been texting pretty consistently, until he brought up that he missed me. He felt shitty without me. He felt that his feelings towards me were making him irrational. And I’m sitting here thinking...fuck. This is a parallel with Matt again. The same paradox. Do I fuck this guy up/over by just being concerned with my own personal happiness and just having a good time with him, while he just hurts at home, he hurts when we’re not together? Or do I actually do what I should’ve done with Matt, and cut him loose earlier rather than later? White-fang him? Break his heart now so it doesn’t hurt so much later?

Why are they both so adamant on not being a memory? Isn’t everyone a memory to someone? I mean, the only people who aren’t “just memories” are those who are a part of someone’s daily life. Like family, or a spouse and children. Even then, my family is a memory to me. I rarely see them or speak to them and most often i find myself looking back on my childhood or my younger years. I love memories. So I just don’t understand the whole anti-memory thing with Matt and Eric. Someone please explain.

So I tried to white-fang Eric. I told him, “If I’m hurting you by not being with you, then maybe I’m not good for you.” If I wanted to get metaphorical with it, maybe I’m like a drug to him like I was to Matt. It’s easy to say yes to me in the moment, but once I’m gone, I’m going to hurt like a bitch. And the more you say yes, the harder it’s going to hurt later on. Maybe like sinking your teeth into fresh concrete. If you pull out now, you might be fine. But if you wait too long, you’re going to lose teeth and it’s going to hurt like hell. So I thought maybe it’s best to pull out now.

He responded, “I like you a lot. I wanna to move to LA with you and we just met. You’re not hurting like I am, it seems. Yeah, I’ll just talk to you later.”

Then I thought it was over. I let it seep in. That was his goodbye. I thought to myself, wow so you were so obsessed with not being a memory that you just made yourself a bad one.

And BELIEVE IT OR NOT, he texted later tonight saying, “If I’m going to be a memory to you, I want to be a good one, not bad.” Can he read my mind?!

And thus, I am in another dilemma. I white-fanged him already, and that took a lot of my emotional strength. Do I attempt to white-fang him again? At the moment, my thought is that I would love to see him again, but only if I know that he won’t hurt afterwards. Only if I know that he is also down to have a casual good time. I don’t want to see him if it’s just going to hurt him. He shouldn’t worry about how I feel. I’m good at burying my feelings. That doesn’t mean they’re not there, I just pretend they’re not. Plus, we’d only met on Wednesday. I need more time to fall into someone else. That person would have to become an integral part of me, of my day and my life. I like him, but jesus, I don’t love him and I wouldn’t stay in Peoria for him (the inverse of what he would do for me.) Oh fuck, what to do.

The funny thing is, I have fantasized about this exact scenario. I played out before my dreams the idea of casually meeting someone from Tinder, and have him accidentally fall in love with me while I play the distant, emotionally unavailable one. Maybe he would angrily make me confront my fear of feelings, outing me for my romantic faults. I would mull over his rant, every word of his hitting me at my core. Then one night, I would rush over to his place, drenched in rain and tears, telling him he was right and that I was wrong to avoid my feelings. We kiss and the world is a happy ending.

Hard to imagine that happening in the span of a week and a half. Plus, that would be really inconvenient.

---

11:42pm

Basically, it’s over. I told him that he should think of me as a good time and move on after I leave and he got pissed, saying “people aren’t something you play with and leave behind.” He also told me that if I didn’t see him as a future partner, he wouldn’t see me. And I mean, honestly? Good! The fact that this guy was asking me to consider him a future partner (!!!) in the span of less than a week?! What in the actual irrational fuck. So yeah. White-fanged and ghosted. Just. I hope he finds peace.

Me on the other hand? I’m quickly disappearing back into my depression. Work kept me busy, but I arranged a therapy appointment with my counselor Jacob from my Bradley time last year. Then I texted my mom, asking if she would be willing to help me pay for the one visit. This lead to her prying into “why? why don’t you talk to me instead? why can’t you just speak with papa and i? You’re making me feel like a bad parent.” I just. Why do I even bother? I ask her to help me pay for something regarding my mental health and she makes it about her parenting skills. I understand, I just wish she would too.

Then she calls me tonight, about an hour ago. Sure, why not? I’ll pick up the phone. And again, she’s judgmental. She’s opinionated.

“See? Remember I told you you shouldn’t get into a relationship while you’re there? You can come back home, live here for the next chapter of your life. I don’t understand why you have this depression; you have a good family, a good job, a good life. I just don’t get it. Just get over it. Everybody gets depressed sometimes and they just work past it. Maybe you should talk to Papa. What does this guy even say that makes him so good huh? The therapist.”

After some yelling and arguing with her, I just shut off. “Whatever. Love you. Bye.”

I cried on my bed. I called Sophie over and had her lie on top of me while I cried. I laid there, cold and unmoving. Until finally I decided to at least function and take care of myself. I took a shower. The hottest I could bear. Then I switched the knob to spout into a bath. Hottest bath I could bear. I let my tears melt into the hot water, losing myself in the heat searing into my skin. It was the only thing I could feel, the only thing that made me feel, was the burning of the hot water. I laid down, sunk my head underneath the water, the pressure popping in my ears. I could try to drown myself like people do in movies, right? But the water escaped into my nostrils and I quickly sat up, coughing up water through my mouth and burning through my nose. I’m hoping a brain-eating amoeba made it into my bath water somehow and is now living in my brain. At least that would explain why I feel so dead in the head lately.

Then...then I couldn’t stand the heat any more and stood up. I turned on the shower head and blasted cold water all over my body. The change in temperature threw me for a shock. I could feel my head getting dizzy. I propped my hands against the cold shower tiles, making sure I didn’t collapse somewhere my skull could crack onto. It felt...that’s it. It just felt. It woke me up a little but all I wanted was to physically feel something.

I sat back down in the hot water. It felt funny, my bottom half warm and my top half cold. Finally, I got out of the shower/tub. Forced myself to eat something, even though the thought of food made me nauseous. I dry heaved a little. This is not happening again. I will take care of myself. Maybe pretend as though one side of myself had a lobotomy, and the other self has to take care of her. I don’t think I’d mind that. A lobotomy. How different could it be from me now?

I wanted to cut myself again. Not on the wrist. Just a prick on the thumb or a slice on my palm. And I thought to myself, I wanted to do that because 1) I wanted to feel something and 2) maybe cutting myself is a way of giving me a reason to feel shitty. You know? A visible scar that says “hey i feel like shit.” Because otherwise, if there’s no scars, no blood, people hear that I’m depressed and ask, “...why?” But if I’ve got something to show for it, maybe they’ll start understanding.

Fuck. I feel like such an emotional middle schooler. Just give me a lobotomy. Then this can be as simple as possible. No complexities. No emotions. Just nothing.

----

2:48am (literally a minute after I finished the last post)

Haha I just reread the entry from January 18th and I just need to say that I’m so amused by the irony.

“With Eric, maybe these two weeks won’t be enough time to cultivate strong feelings. We’ll just remain in that honeymoon phase without having to worry about the future.”

Nope, bad luck be with me, the boy developed feelings on the second/third date and is considering moving to LA with me. Of course he did. Of course.

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