“Where Are You Going? Please Stay.”

Re: Short lived, but enriching

I’ll truly jump through hoops in order to not feel longing and I know thats why I initially replied to his text yesterday. I can feel loss, anger, pain, rage, fear – I can sit with them all, have a full on discussion and ask what they’d like from me…but not if the core of those feelings is longing. Longing is like swallowing my tongue whole. Not being able to breathe. Not being able to speak. Standing there paralyzed. Dying unable to ask for what I need.
Its something I grew up with every day since the day I was born. Longing for security, safety, love, stability…and never getting it. As I grew older I grew to run as fast as I could I’d rather feel anything else; drunk, high, full of adrenalin, near death, fucking strangers – anything but the yearning of that which I can’t have. Some people who grew up with an extreme longing throughout their childhood grow to be very good at longing – almost to a fault. The others end up like me. Its funny how quickly our minds will run to an extreme in order to avoid the one feeling we’ve grown to abhor more than any other.

Its not that I don’t like this guy I do, he’s a good guy, but its purely physical. I also get ridiculously horny once I sleep with someone its hard for me to shut it off again especially if I’m not committed. If I am I committed I control myself easily as I’ve an extremely monogamous heart. But I have to be honest with myself and realize no matter whether I wanted to sleep with him before or not – this time it stemmed from my desire to escape the original feeling of longing.

“You need to learn to sit with this feeling. It is going to be painful, you will cry, and you may go a little crazy…but at some point its a lesson you need to learn in order to be the healthiest version of yourself you say you’d like to be”
I sat there frustrated staring at my therapist…I didn’t want more pain I wanted to feel happy. Did that mean I wasn’t ready for all the changes I said I wanted to make? What the fuck was my problem.
To see a clear fork in the road and one that says “OLD COPING MECHANISMS” and the other “PATH TOWARD GROWTH” and take the former….thats how much I evidently hate longing.

So off I went. He kept complimenting me and touching the small of the back. I was short because I could be. After all, he said I was too nurturing when we were dating. Colds what he wanted so colds what he’ll get. Once I move someone out of the “romantic interest” compartment in my brain there’s truly no making your way back. Not to say I’m mean thats not really in my nature, but I’ll grow distant because I’ll know they’ll always come back..perhaps not because they want all of me but simply because they’re craving my energy or want someone to warm their bed. Thats ok with me.
He put his arm around me. I let him. This part felt familiar. We engaged in mindless smalltalk then he mentioned that he saw that I moved into my own apartment recently. He asked how I could afford it. I laughed. His eyes widened “So how do you afford all this?” I laughed more. He joked and asked “can I buy some cocaine off you?!” I pushed his shoulder and said absolutely not. I just said “We come from different worlds and the way we survive is very different just leave it at that.” I know he’d never accept me being a SW much less an escort. He’s too young, too arrogant, too unaware of what it feels like to not know whether you’ll eat the next day or if you’ll have a home next week. In retrospect I wish I had said I was a drug dealer – its more accepted than being a hooker. Now I’ll have to come up with a lie if I see him again.
I changed the subject and feigned interest I was merely waiting to see how he’d make his move.

Finally he did. We hadn’t slept together when we did date so I could sense his hesitation as he tried to gauge if I was going to let it happen. He lifted me and took me to the bed. Firmly put his hands around my throat and kissed me. This wasn’t gentle. It was animalistic, it was hunger. Perhaps even more so my own than his. So much so that for the first time in my life I tore – blood splattered out toward his chest, all over his torso, and forearms. He stopped and my immediate reaction was to laugh because in my mind it was such a vivid visual of the choice I’d made coming to fruition. Then I realized that probably made me look crazy so I acted concerned, which I started to be considering just how much blood there was. He carried me to the shower so we could get cleaned up.

Afterwards we lay on his bed, cuddling him was okay when we dated but it took me a while to warm up. This time I lay stiff trying my best to breathe deeply and normally. I decided to leave because I needed sleep and sleepovers are saved for a select few. I started crawling over him to leave.
He grabbed me by the waist and lay me back down “I have to go!” he looked shocked that I would even say such a thing I asked why he was making that face, “I thought you’d stay, you always would before”
I scoffed “Yeah thats when we were trying to build something emotional” I rolled my eyes and crawled over him again and slid toward the other side of his California King bed. He grabbed my forearm “I’d really like it if you stayed. Please stay. I want to cuddle and fall asleep holding you.”
I froze. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go home and fall asleep sprawled out alone in my bed. I’m so bad at saying no to men when they’re being vulnerable like this: aching for some companionship. I rolled my eyes again and went back to my spot in his bed he kissed my forehead “don’t do that. this isn’t that” he looked confused and said “lets just take it a day at a time” I didn’t want to talk so I agreed and turned over.

Would I do it again? Maybe. But I’d prefer it not be as a method of escapism.

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