Yesterday was a great Sunday

I’m not sure if its because I had work with a new favorite client of mine, if its because I met a gorgeous man who looks like sebastian rulli – and fucked him, or if it was the Xanax.
Probably a combination of the three.

The new client
He is a good looking man, a musician (go figure one musician doesn’t care to see me and here waltzes in one who pays for the privilege of being with me), in his 30s and if I’m frank I’d be friends with him had we met in civilian life. And depending how we met I probably would’ve hooked up with him too. Its always incredibly nice to have clients who you actually get along with, have much in common with, and are attracted to.
He’s also my favorite type of client in the sense that he’s going through a rough patch and just wants someone to talk to about what he’s gone through, his fears, and his hopes – I’m good at that. Thats what I like doing best in this job. The more we meet the more he opens up, its a privilege to be able to see this side of people. The side that they usually feel the need to hide.
Sex workers arent just about sex y’all, we’re great at being confidantes in every sense of the word – or at least the best of us are.
Getting paid to be around someone like that IS the dream. But its also confusing I’ve heard horror stories my friends have told me of when they caught feelings for a client – I steer clear of it. I’ve come close once, but luckily I learned those lessons from the years of Sugar dating I did.

The Sebastian Rulli Look Alike
Some background my favorite telenovela was Rubi its about a woman who grew up extremely poor, but she was incredibly beautiful…as she got older she became obsessed with becoming rich – by way of making wealthy men fall in love with her. One of those men was Sebastian Rulli’s character
Here’s a picture for clarification:
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Yes- face AND body type look like that. Okay, now that you get the picture.

I first saw this man in the parking lot of the beach and phew….that body and that hair were the first thing I noticed. Then as I got to the beach with my friend I saw him walking as we set up our spot. He made eye contact then set up about 8feet away from us. I sat and felt giggly, which was stupid I’m a hooker when does a man ever make me feel giggly?
He got up and went to swim in the water. My friend and I took a bunch of photos by the ocean then he walked up to us to ask the time then walked away.
I wanted to talk to him but couldn’t think of anything. My friend needed sunscreen so I asked if he had any – he didn’t.
We went back to our respective spots and he started changing out of his wet suit….Oh. My. God. I had to look away but didn’t want to. His hair was wet from the ocean and his body was glistening loooooord. His incredible arms ugh. then his chest. and his abs..god, I wanted to lick those abs. I looked down and looked back up this time his back was to us…and his back was just as great-strong. the top of his butt was showing and yes, his butt was incredible. then he turned to the side as he pulled his suit off completely and plop, there it was…and it was glorious.
I giggled and my friend immediately looked then started giggling too – as if we weren’t being obvious enough before.
We took more photos and he was watching us so I went to ask if he could take one of us. of course he did. We got each other’s names then he asked if we wanted to smoke a bowl with him we didn’t but we invited him to sit with us.

We talked for about an hour. Turns out he and I have very similar cultural backgrounds. We talked about our signs and he immediately told me to stay away from him as I’m a cusp of the two signs he’s most weak for – one he finds incredibly sexy and the other has been the one he falls in love with most. I could tell he found both me and my friend attractive which I didn’t mind, most of my friends are hot after all. I felt I had some upper hand considering he made several comments directed at his history being with women like me. He remained respectful and neutral both her and I appreciated that. We exchanged numbers with him.
And me, being the shameless go getter I am, texted him. My friend decided to wait. We both agreed on a don’t ask don’t tell policy with this guy since we both liked him – unless things got emotional. A couple days later he was in my apartment.

I didn’t expect anything to happen I just wanted to see what the vibe was like. I wanted to wait a little to fuck him anyway. I figured out quickly that the vibe was sexual on both ends. He was a great kisser god damn us mixed lovers – waiting fell off the table. We went to my bedroom and got undressed I could not get over his gorgeous tan body, it was killing me. I’ll spare you all the details and keep that to myself, but lets just say I had a great time.
I finally christened my apartment! I thought it was never going to happen. after we finished we lay gasping, trying to catch our breath. I immediately asked “how would you feel about a threesome with me and one of my girlfriends?” ( RE: N …her and I actually had a threesome after this post, but I’ll share that another time)
He smiled, “I love them-I’ve had a few with my ex who was bisexual” I bit his shoulder ” perfect, maybe we can have a lot of fun together” He grabbed my thigh “I’d love to come and massage you sometime, if you’re up for that”
I had things to do and so did he so we got dressed as we talked about more things we liked.
The entire time he wouldn’t stop saying how beautiful he thought my face was whenever I smiled. And he couldn’t stop talking about how sexy he thought my body was. It was nice. Would’ve been nicer to have more time (round 2 anyone?), but who knows maybe he and I will get a chance to play a few times if fate lets me have a win for once….please fate I just want some steady dick.

The Xanax
This damn magical little pill. It works…too well. I love feeling “normal” i.e not anxious and irritable all the time. I get a lot more done – feel less depressed/anxious/like throwing up. But I am noticing I’m more irritable on the days I don’t take it. Maybe its the stark contrast of going from feeling calm to a jarring overthinking potato that makes me extra irritable. Either way that part isn’t pleasant. I’m still sticking to my 2x a week dose rule, I’m not risking adding physical dependence to a substance to my long list of personal issues. But damn it made my Sunday pull together beautifully.

Managing expectations

The musician I had posted about back in March is in my city tonight, 3 miles away from my place to be exact, but I won’t be seeing him. It stings my ego to write that. As someone whose used to men chasing and paying her – having a guy I dig put in little effort to see me hurts. I always have this issue with men I like. If they’re honest and up front I rarely get mad or at least I don’t show it. Do I even have a right to be upset? I’ve hung out with him twice and we fucked one of the times…whats my problem? And yet I am who I am. Asking if I have a right to feel a certain way is irrelevant; I can control how I act/react, but not how I feel.

To be fair he tried making time to see me it just so happens that I’ll be at my new job that day and he had invited me to be on his guest list several times. I said no because I didn’t want to feel like a groupie. Its not that I don’t like watching him perform – he’s incredible, its mainly that I didn’t want to be the only one putting in all the effort. I’d gone out of my way every time we’d hung out. If he was going to be in my city and not put in any effort why would I go see him perform without being able to have any one on one time whatsoever?
Then I remembered my stubborn streak with A. My friend called me out on how much I regretted the times I did this with him because I was all or nothing and I had vowed to not be like that in any of my personal relationships after he died, for a moment I agreed. Your head gets fucked up after a partner dies so suddenly when you’re young – now every situation the back of my head I think “would I regret doing/not doing this if I could never see them again” its really extreme…I know.
So I texted the musician and asked if he still had room on the list he said he didn’t, but would see what he could do. I knew what that meant and I didn’t need the faux niceties he was serving up – that shit always irritates me. If he was any other man I would’ve called it out, its his show after all. But instead I took the blame. Why?

Its that he’s kind to me. For me kindness is the ultimate drug. I know its pathetic , but its something I’ve missed out on most of my life; mainly from men and paternal figures. So when a straight man in my personal life seems genuinely kind to me all bets are off. All I want to do is be enveloped in that feeling of this person being kind to me. I crave it deeply. I go from powerful, sharp tongued, take no shit kind of woman to a soft and mushy purring complacent cat. He’s honest, he calls me if I ask him to, he almost always replies, he sends snapchats and keeps in touch – it felt great for a while to not worry about someone ghosting or being cruel to me. Until I realized I was initiating most of it. I know better than that, come on woman!
I’m probably one of dozens of women he keeps saved in his phone on nights he’s lonely or horny. And thats ok, I know how it goes – I’ve made an entire career out of it. Its just that I loathe the feeling of being completely unimportant to someone. The feeling that I could be anyone, I’m just another person to kill time with. I may hate that feeling more than I hate the feeling of longing and thats really saying something.

If I’m completely honest with myself I don’t think I’m remotely upset with him. I’m upset with myself for always craving so much. My therapist was right when she said I’m living in the realm of the hungry ghost when it comes to these situations.
The Hungry Ghost: The description is that of beings that have incredibly tiny mouths—they are said to be about the size of a pin, just a tiny opening—and great big stomachs; and these stomachs are empty.  They are not able to take in the amounts of nourishment that they need. The reality of the realm of the hungry ghost is that they experience extreme need and extreme hunger.

For me the extreme need and hunger is a desire for kindness and to feel cared for. When I get a taste I want more and more because I worry it’ll be taken from me at any moment. But seeing as I’ve never had much of it – when I do receive a lot at once I tend to run or self sabotage because I don’t know how to take all of it in. My brain is like “woah. what do I do with all this kindness and affection!? RUN!” Its quite a frustrating cycle. But hey – ambivalent/avoidant attachment 101!

I’ve been working on changing this part of myself for some time now. Its definitely improved, but in situations like this I’m reminded I still have a lot of internalized personal feelings I need to work out.
I don’t know what to do. Do I back off? Do I tell him? Do I just keep talking to him several times a week?
Maybe my depression is exacerbating everything too…so how do you know what to communicate when you don’t know what makes sense? Whats real? Its not to say that my feelings are any less valid when my depression hits harder than normal…but I’m aware that my anxieties and insecurities are heightened.
Maybe next week my depression will lighten up a bit. I’ll turn back into the woman everyone is used to seeing and 90% of this wont apply.
I’ll laugh at this post because I won’t believe how dramatic I was being.

Its hard to tell so its hard to know what to do.

The Threesome That Wasn’t

I went out to see a friend who was visiting my city. We had some drinks (ok, a lot) and caught up. By the time we went to the second bar I was drunk, but it still didn’t mean I didn’t hate most of the fratty mid 20s-early 30s crowd. One of my newer friends who I’ve quickly gotten close to met up with us which helped, at least I had someone who hated the scene as much as I do with me. Lets call her N.
We were about to leave when I saw a man I thought I recognized, I went up to him “C? Is that you – do you remember me from high school!?”
We got to talking and exchanged numbers then N and I left to eat. I couldn’t tell you what time it was or how we got there, but I do remember eating! Eventually we went home and C came over. We had more drinks and did some blow. We talked about life and made out. It was a good time, I was amused. N and I were down to sleep with him if we found he was worth it (i.e meaning he had a decent sized cock). Its interesting to me that in m/f situations I’m usually very submissive – but if theres three I’m normally dominant especially with the woman. I told them to move upstairs to the bedroom. As they made out on the bed I pulled out a few of my toys.
I decided to blindfold him. It was a power move – its always about power. N and I kissed him and then when we pulled his boxers off he wasn’t hard – and even if he was a grower he’d still be pretty small. I kissed him and took the blindfold off “I don’t think tonights your night C” he smirked a bit embarrassed and replied “Yeah I shouldn’t have done so much blow.”
I didn’t want him sleeping over – nor did N. So I asked him to leave then N and I cuddled and fell asleep.

Imagine – two beautiful women willing to fuck you then when its showtime you can’t perform. I obviously know it happens and don’t blame him I’m just thinking how shitty that must have felt for him!
Sucks to suck.

Now its just another story I’ll add into my collection.

When you’re part of a marginalized group you get used to the taste of blood

From biting your own tongue so often. From having to sit in those few seconds after a comment or joke is made. Those few seconds that feel like a lifetime as you decide “should  I say something?” and often we bite our tongues. Whether it be because we don’t have the energy, we don’t feel safe, or we’re just too damn busy to educate another person.
I’ve bitten my tongue so many times throughout my life I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off
(re: Where are you going? Please Stay)

People often jump down my throat when I tell them someone said something offensive about SW and I didn’t correct them. While I’ve never had anyone threaten me because of what I do, it happens. People have been killed, raped, robbed. Every new person I out myself to I have to think about this. Will they react this way? Will they tell one of their friends who may then cause me harm? Its a gamble every time.

In one of my  recent post I left out a part of our conversation that has stuck with me, I’d put my foot in my mouth and said my ex roommate was threatening to blackmail me. He naturally asked with what and I said I didn’t want to tell him so he just said “Oh so like she has videos of you peeing on a bed with hookers?” I laughed and said “my family wouldn’t care about that honestly” his eyes widened “……but theres hookers there!!!”
And there it was – the situation I all too often find myself in. Do I speak up? Do I defend them? Do I make a small remark about the fact that ‘hookers’ are regular people? Any of these options can raise suspicion in the person I’m talking to. Or do I bite my tongue and swallow my words in order to keep myself safe? To keep my energy sacred?
In a few seconds I thought it all over and processed all the potential outcomes.
If I out myself he could freak out, yell, kick me out. If there’s anything I do know about him its that he wouldn’t understand he’s too young, too privileged, too sheltered in many ways. I don’t know how he’d react, but I know it wouldn’t be good.
I could make a small comment and point out the fact that SW are just people, but then he’d potentially wonder why I was invested enough to defend them along with his suspicion of how I make my money- game over.
In this case I bit my tongue, didn’t say anything, keep my relationship with him, got laid. Now I sit with the discomfort of knowing I fucked someone who could never accept part of my identity, part of my life.
As fun as the sex was – he didn’t deserve access to any part of my body.

The epitome of health

I convinced my therapist and physician to give me the ok on Xanax.
I definitely do have anxiety, but the panic attacks are so rare compared to two+ years ago that I don’t think I can honestly say I “need” it.
I just want to have it so I can fuck around and barter for adderall.
So my reward for going to the gym today is picking up my prescription.

My depression was/is definitely creeping up, but I’ve started working out again which helps a lot. I need structure and goals I’m actively working toward in order to feel fulfilled. The past 6 weeks has been a mess, no working out, tons of travel, drinking and binge eating garbage. Its time for me to get back on track. I need to loose another 15 lbs (ideally 20) by June.
My therapist and I touched on my compulsions last sessions and its something I want to further explore -why am I like this?
If I’m healthy I’m super healthy – eating well, gym, yoga, dance. If I’m working toward a solid goal in school I focus on that as if I have tunnel vision. If I’m abstaining from sex I’m abstaining from personal dating in any shape or form.
But just the same
If I’m not healthy I’m binging on garbage food, binging on booze, binging on men, binging on shopping – until I quite literally make myself sick, like i have this round having my depression creep back up on me.

Now I’m like Okay, I’m gonna work out and go back on my healthy eating…but I’m going to abuse adderall and Xanax. I’m still not sure where my stance is on men. If I’m honest with myself I do want to just go to a bar and pick up a new hot guy every other night, I’m insatiable once I start and its just so easy. But I’m also aware that won’t fulfill me so I want to find one or two I can tolerate who are actually good in bed and can see me regularly. I can’t have just one I get too attached and one can never give me everything I need/want.
The only men who’ve ever been able to live up to my standards of money, care, sexual appetite, intellect, and empathy have all been Sugar daddies. Maybe theres something to the fact that most men say “I can’t give you everything you want” when they dump me considering its  historically been used most often.
But I’ll never lower my standards considering I hold myself up to the same ones.

I feel good about the fact that I can stop to psychoanalyze and reflect on my compulsions. I’m not where I want to be, but I’m eons ahead of the girl I was in my early 20s.

“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.

I had a great time, so why am I crying?

Love.
Something some find so wonderful and appealing is a word alone that causes my heart to race and my brain to jump to fight or flight mode. Don’t get me wrong – love is something I crave more deeply than almost anything on this earth. To be held and to hold someone who loves me..who I love? Thats kind of my dream.
More often than not I dislike cuddling – my body tenses up, my senses become heightened, and I become painfully aware of my breathing as I try to breathe at a steady pace so whoever is trying to show me affection doesn’t notice that I feel trapped. But the thing is when I genuinely feel a connection with someone I want nothing more than to hold them and yet letting myself feel that kind of intimacy is a different kind of pain, its a reminder of how much I deny myself what I want.

I don’t feel like I’m allowed to fall in love, for one I’m a sex worker. Now, before I get the “sex workers can have relationships and love!” bit I know that to be true – its just that specifically I can’t. Having another person touch me when I’m in love (or like) with someone is hell for me and in the past I’ve always chosen love over money, right now what my family and I need is money….but where do I draw the line? How long can I deny myself the things I’ve wanted my entire life? How long can I run?
*Cue Moulin Rouge’s Elephant Love Medley*
C: All you need is love.
S: A girl has got to eat.
C: All you need is love.
S: Or she’ll end up on the streets.
C: All you need is love.
S: Love is just a game.
C: I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me.
S: The only way of loving me baby, is to pay a lovely fee
This was one of my favorite movies in middle school…actually several of my favorite movies/novelas/books growing up had a SW as a main character. Perhaps I always knew I’d end up here. But back to my point.

The heavier layer is the fact that when the man I loved killed himself two years ago I almost died. That isn’t an exaggeration. I was on my way out as I’d had a history of depression and PTSD which I’d struggled with managing throughout my life- but I managed, when this happened any desire I had to push through dissipated. I had written letters out to those closest to me while trying my hardest to write in ways that would clear them of any guilt, but who was I kidding? I knew there would always be guilt when you experience that kind of loss. Loved ones would answer the phone in a panic anytime I called and I knew they were half expecting it to be me saying goodbye before offing myself. Friends didn’t want to leave me alone. I cried in public and didn’t care who saw. I got drunk and screamed at strangers, the ocean, the sky. I felt too much while feeling a pit of emptiness in my soul.
For six months I was a shell of myself, the worst version of myself: cold, cruel, with no will to live and no faith in people. Only until a year after his death did I start to see traces of myself coming back. Now I’ve healed, but its left quite a bit scar tissue on my heart.
I barely survived that, I’m terrified that another heartbreak will kill me.I’m aware that isn’t logical but its exactly where my anxiety induced brain runs anytime I feel an ounce of myself want to hold someone who isn’t paying me. Sex work in a way protects me from being able to meet someone I could love its my own twisted form of insurance on top of the money being great I get to have an excuse not to emotionally connect.

But what do I do when it happens anyway?
I met a man on valentine’s day. I was in the mood to get out and explore on my own so I went to Santa Cruz to his show. He came to say hi beforehand, its not often I feel anything for men anymore, but as soon as he spoke to me my body felt pulled toward him. As I watched him perform I realized that he was incredibly talented. One of his songs made me cry which is essentially soul porn for me. We met up afterwards and I immediately felt comfortable with him I wanted to let my guard down, but refused to. My hesitations were completely my own because everything about him told me that he wouldn’t judge me for any of my complicated choices or my heavy life story. His energy felt warm and welcoming if I could bottle that feeling up and carry it with me I absolutely would, I’d probably be a much better person if I could feel that all the time. We made out and that was all I was still doing my celibacy thing and he wanted to wait as well. He left. I felt happy to have met him.
We talked almost every day after that. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel anxious or like running. I didn’t feel like he’d intentionally hurt me. I didn’t feel like he’d ever hit me or lie to me. I didn’t even feel like he’d ghost even though we’d only met once. I felt like I could trust him – what!? We made plans to meet again. Finally the day arrived and I drove out three hours to see a man I’d met once..I still have to laugh just typing it out because its completely out of character for me. I got there and holding him felt different than how most men hold me it felt nervous, unsure, but safe. Usually when men hold me it feels like possession, hunger, and entrapment.

We went to the party he was playing I mingled while he worked. Anytime I stood by him I felt that pull to touch him and feel close to him, but of course that wouldn’t be appropriate. At one point I was standing with him and he said something along the lines of “you’re really beautiful- like I can’t believe you’re into me…. because I do ok for myself I’m not a bad looking dude but you’re on a whole other level of beauty. Part of me is still like did my friends put her up to this!?” I laughed and felt extremely flattered that he appreciate my beauty so much I joked in return “your friends probably couldn’t afford to hire me for this! its like 5k a night!” he immediately reacted “is that how much it is?” I could feel my expression change – I hated people asking how much I made, I opened my mouth to speak and he said “don’t answer that – that was a stupid question I’m sorry I hate when people ask me that” I smiled again and felt happy to be in the company of a man who openly called himself out. A white man at that. I thought of all the time and energy I’d spent trying to teach defensive white men why the things they said were inappropriate and felt an immense relief when I thought, perhaps this one won’t drain my energy after all.

When we got back to the hotel I broke my celibacy streak and I did so happily. He was gentle, something I wasn’t used to in my personal life. Its odd to say, but I felt inexperienced. I can’t remember the last time I felt that. I couldn’t simply ‘go through the motions’ even if I wanted to. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.
When it was time to leave in the morning I felt sadness and I couldn’t put my finger on why. We said our goodbyes and as soon as I got to my car I cried. For a few minutes as I drove I was confused, where was this all coming from? I’d had a great time. I was happy!
Then suddenly I realized: I felt something while we made love. No, I’m not saying I’m in love with a man I’ve met twice. I’m saying I felt something as in I let myself feel a connection instead of blocking it out and dissociating. And that alone hasn’t happened to me since A’s death.
I felt overwhelmed and pulled over to sit by a creek. I didn’t know what to do with any of these feelings and I suppose I didn’t need to know. I just sat there overwhelmed. I was unaware of the effect this would have on me it was beautiful, healing, and heartbreaking.
I only know one other person whose ever lost a partner and the first time she experienced this she screamed at the man the next morning and kicked him out, her reaction was anger. I didn’t understand why until now. Its strange enough to watch time pass by as we grieve, heal, and move on with our lives. Its another thing entirely to actually feel something for someone else no matter how small the feeling may be, in these situations it can feel monumental in the timeline of moving forward.
I hadn’t thought of A much these past few weeks perhaps if I had I would’ve been more prepared…then again if I had been thinking of A so much it probably would’ve meant I wasn’t ready.
In a way I feel that this was fate. I could’ve met this man a year ago but the experience would’ve been completely different. I wouldn’t have been ready to feel anything. I probably would’ve gotten too drunk and fucked him out of boredom. I feel as though fate said “You’re ready it won’t be easy, but you’re ready and you deserve to see that. You don’t have to keep denying yourself, at least not because of this. Not anymore.”

Maybe I’ll see him again. Maybe I won’t. I’m enjoying it and taking the moments we do have together as they come, looking beyond that would dilute the present. Destiny has been kind to me this year and I trust that what’s meant to happen will and what isn’t won’t.