Or: Possibly The Most Dehumanizing Experience Of My Life
So in the midst of my attempted recovery from the mess that ended over a month ago, I have gone out with this new guy a few times. Kind of a "get back on the horse" kind of maneuver. Trying to replace what I lost, feel the feelings I used to feel. So I've been attempting normal dates. Drinks, a movie, you know. He's a nice guy. There's plenty of stuff about him that bugs me, but hey, why not give it a shot, right? I mean, he's always a gentleman, at least. He's walked me home every night we've spent time together. Okay, so maybe the making out in front of my doorman was less than gentlemanly. And I'm not a PDA kind of person, so that's really not my thing. And I guess that's part of the reason why I invited him up the last time I saw him. (I say last because, well, you don't get another chance after how things worked out.)
He had been drinking more than he usually did when we spent time together. This should have set off some sort of warning signal in my head, and encouraged me to send him home rather than invite him inside. But no, I decided inviting him in was a good idea. He didn't seem too intoxicated, and I wasn't worried. When we reached my apartment, he was immediately all over me. I wasn't really into it, but I went along with it for a while. After all, I was the one who invited him inside, and this is what happens when you invite a guy inside. I had thought this was what I had wanted, but I was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. As things escalated, however, my mind wandered, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Memories of what I'd lost raced through my mind and I stared at the ceiling as hands groped their way around my body.
I felt like a rag doll in his arms. As he tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled my head where he wanted it to be, as he ran his hands over my body, as he placed my arms around his waist, it was like everything inside of me shut off. It was like there wasn't a person there anymore, there was just a body, and I wasn't in it. Everything that knew how to feel was gone. I felt empty.
Ironic, as it was the emptiness in the wake of my mess that I was trying to fight.
I don't know how people can have one night stands. I don't know how people can hook up with no emotional attachment. I don't know why I thought that replacing the physical aspect of the relationship that I lost would ever in a million years make up for everything else that was there. I got to a point where I literally could not take it anymore, pulled his hands off me, stood up, righted my disheveled clothing, and simply began to cry. I didn't know what else to do. The poor guy was justifiably confused, not knowing that he'd accompanied an emotional nutcase upstairs, and probably thinking he had a good chance of getting laid. After apologizing profusely many times, I sent him home.
I'm not sure what I hoped to accomplish by sharing this story. I feel like it should serve as some sort of warning, but I'm not sure what I'm trying to warn against. This guy is a good guy, all things considered, and the situation was entirely my fault. While things didn't turn out too poorly for me, they could have gone south in a hurry. The mistake was a stupid one that I shouldn't have to warn people against. What am I trying to say? Don't invite in a guy who has been drinking? Be careful or you'll get in over your head? Don't attempt more than you can handle? Don't push yourself to heal faster than you are capable of? Don't try to solve emotional problems and fill emotional voids with physical intimacy? Don't be me?
Maybe I'm just trying to say that you shouldn't jump off a cliff trying to feel the wind in your face, because you're going to hit bottom more often than you're going to fly.
Have you ever made a decision that seemed good at the time but wasn't? Have you ever made a bad choice fully knowing that it was a bad choice? Why did you do it? What were the consequences? Have you ever tried to solve a problem or make yourself feel better and had it backfire?