Touch....

This is a blog that I wrote at the beginning of last year, and as I read it, it really reminded me of who I am and what I need to become.  It has also become abundantly clear that I need to tell HIM just exactly how I feel.  That chance may come tonight.  We'll just have to see, but a lot has happened in the last year and maybe I'm finally ready to open myself up to rejection, but also to the possibility of love.

Touch.

One of the 5 senses, the one that most people probably overlook, but given the right circumstances, it can be quite strong, even completely overwhelming.

For the last several years, I have been, well rather celibate, and while I was lonely, especially late at night, I was coping.  Not exactly the best of situations, but I rationalized that between kids, school and work, there really wasn’t a lot of time to go out with anyone.  Besides, I had my unrequited love and was using him for an excuse to not go out, because I could say that I hadn’t met anyone who lived up to my ideal.  It was easier than taking down the walls that I built to protect myself from letting someone inside.  They were built to keep out many things: pain, fear, rejection. 

Especially rejection.

Over the years I had done a number of really stupid things including have sex with numerous people because I was lonely and it was a way for me to feel love.  I used them as much as they used me.  It was a temporary fix of course that always left me empty inside, but I felt I didn’t deserve anything more.

Then, I got married.  Things were okay at first, but after a while, I didn’t feel like a spouse as much as an object who was only around for cleaning the house and sex.  Frankly, I was miserable and it took a long time before I was able to get up enough courage to say, “I’m done.”  My divorce sucked, but they always do, so I was just like the rest of the statistics. 

For many years, I had thought that I just didn’t like sex anymore, but the truth was; I just didn’t like the person I was having sex with anymore.  And, I didn’t like myself anymore.  As much as I would like to blame my ex, there were just as many things that I did in the marriage that I’m not proud of.  But once I realized that I still liked sex, I also realized that I didn’t have to make the same mistakes that I had made in the past and I didn’t need to sleep with everyone just too feel loved. 

What a concept, to actually learn from one’s mistakes.

Needing space, I moved to Florida, and for the first year, I dreamed about dating, but still too damaged from the divorce, I never let things go very far.  Then my kids were gone for a whole year and I allowed myself to at least think of the possibility of dating.

I met the “copy guy” and there were sparks immediately.  It had been years since anything like that had ever happened.  Unfortunately, I was so desperate for the attention and to be touched that I pushed him away.  I had a few other flings here and there, but nothing of substance. 

Then of course, I met HIM.  He had all of the right qualities that I was looking for, but because I was so gun shy about rejection, I have never been able to tell him how I felt.  Again came the rationalizations, I wasn’t worthy, was too old and too fat.  I was a single mom with two kids who could barely support herself, so why would he even consider being with someone like me.

So to counter that, I started talking to someone online, a friend I had met before moving and things started getting interesting.  While I was back in Utah getting the kids and all of my stuff, we hooked up.  He told me he was falling in love with me and would come out and see me as soon as he could.  I ate it up.  I wanted to believe that someone could fall in love with me again, that I wasn’t worthless.  That dream was shattered before I even got back to Florida. 

That was also the last time that I had sex.  I couldn’t bring myself to open up to anyone.  I did make out with a couple of guys, ones from previous hookups, but nothing more.  At least I had gotten it through my head that I wasn’t going to have sex with anyone anymore unless I was in a committed relationship. 

So far so good.

Then I moved back home to Utah.  Could things have gotten any worse? Here I was living back at home, unemployed, suffering from the worst case of depression I had ever felt in my entire life and closer to the guy I was in love with.  One would think that would be a good thing.  But there was still no way for me to ever be able to tell him how I felt. 

I knew that I needed to get my head screwed on straight, so I got on some anti-depressants and was finally able to get a job.  Things started looking up.  I had money coming in, was able to start paying off my bills and feel like I was an actual adult, other than someone who was a complete loser who couldn’t take care of anything by herself.

Slowly but surely, I started dreaming about having a relationship, I mean, other than the one with Nathan Fillion that was strictly in my head.  That one was easy, he didn’t even know that I existed.  I still spoke with the guy I was in love with, but once every couple of months so it wouldn’t come across as needy.  I had been able to fool myself into thinking that there might be, at some point in the distant future, he would finally see more than just a friend and perhaps there might be something that could develop. Unfortunately, the last couple of times I tried contacting him, he hasn’t called me back.   This was the first time that had ever happened.  

So once again, I’ve been suffering from rejection, wondering why the hell I would want to put myself through the pain of opening myself up. I hung around my married friends, trying to put on a smile that everything was okay.  I’d make comments like, “well if you know any single guys, why don’t you just hook us up.”  I know that I would complain about being alone, but underneath I think there was a bit of relief.  I didn’t have to worry about breaking my heart.  I was happy for my friend who finally met someone online, someone that actually deserved her.

I was happy for her, but inside I kept wondering what was wrong with me.  Was I such a horrible person that I was completely unlovable?  It was easier to keep that wall up because then I could rationalize that no one in their right mind would want to be with someone like me.

Then I got a message from someone on one of the dating sites that I haunt every now and then.  It was a different message than the ones that I usually get, which were things like, “Can I suck your toes, I bet they would taste great,” and “My wife won’t have sex with me anymore, so I’m looking for someone to have sex with on a regular basis.”  I answered and for a short time, we emailed back and forth, then he asked for my number.  For whatever reason, I actually gave it to him.  It was that deep hope that maybe I could meet someone. But since he wasn’t like any other guy who ever asked me out, he was young, cute and a bit of a jock, I wasn’t very hopeful.

I was pleasantly surprised though when he would text or call me so this went on for a few weeks, but I wasn’t really going to pursue him.  He asked me out, but because I was with my kids, I turned him down, but said later in the week.  So finally the stars aligned, and last Monday, we met.  I couldn’t believe how attracted I was too him.  We met at Sonic and just talked in his car for a little while.  I was rather proud of myself because I was able to carry on a pretty decent conversation about sports with him.  Then rather abruptly, he said he needed to go, he had an early morning meeting, so I hopped out of his car, got into mine and drove off.

At first I felt okay, but then the doubts started creeping in.  In the morning, I texted him, saying that I enjoyed meeting him and wished him luck on his meeting.  He texted back a quick thanks and that was it.  So last Wednesday, in an effort to try and return to some state of equilibrium, I went and auditioned for a play.  It was fun, and even if I didn’t get the part, I was still excited with the results.  Having the director say, “When did you get so good?” is a great ego booster.

So much in fact that I called the guy I’m in love with.  You know, the one who had blown me off a couple of times now.  I don’t know what I was expecting, but I just wanted to talk because even if I couldn’t ever tell him how I felt, I still really liked being his friend and I loved our conversations because they would often last for hours and we could talk about anything.

Feeling completely lost, I went to bed a complete wreck.  Here I was letting other people’s action dictate my own happiness.  I had been on a complete high after my audition and I let it come crumbling down around me.

So the next day, in an effort to prove that I really was unlovable, I texted the guy that I met just a few days earlier, inviting him out for a hot chocolate and fully expecting to never hear from him again.  Needless to say, I was completely stunned when he called me back and asked if meeting up in about an hour would be okay. 

Once again, I was flying.

We met up at the restaurant and talked for a couple of hours.  Finally it was time to go, and I figured when he looked at his watch, he would say he needed to go, he had to get up early in the morning or something.  I was pleasantly surprised when he invited me over to his house to watch a movie.  I really wasn’t expecting anything, but sitting next to him, our bodies touching, made me realize how much I had missed being next to someone.  He asked if I liked to cuddle, and at this point I was almost desperate for him to wrap his arms around me. 

He caressed my arm and then slowly worked his way up until he was playing with my hair and touching my face.  My insides were shaking so much, I really didn’t know what to do, but then I didn’t have to worry, because he kissed me.  For the next little while, we made out on his couch and then in his bed.  We didn’t have sex, which I was really glad of, and for a while, we just cuddled in his bed.  I could have fallen asleep just like that.  But then came the abruptness I had experienced before.  He needed me to leave so he could get some sleep.  He took me back to my car.  I kissed him goodbye then watched him drive away.

I was high as a kite and then the doubts started. 

This time I wasn’t going to contact him, I would wait for him to contact me.  I was shocked (trying to come up with different ways to say surprised is a bit challenging at 5am) when he texted me later in the afternoon.  He asked how I was and wanted to make sure I got home okay.  That brief contact made me feel good, and then the doubts came… again.  So I texted him on Saturday, afraid he wouldn’t text me and even more afraid that he would.  Several hours later, he texted back, but by this point, it seemed I had read just about every article ever written about men, relationships and “the chase” that I was basket case.

Once again, I let someone else control how I felt, so much so that yesterday and last night, I could barely function, reading the rest of the articles that I had missed the first time.  I went to sleep, daydreaming about him touching the back of my neck, gently running his fingers up and down my spine.  I had forgotten just how much I missed being touched.

As I type this, I’m trying really hard not to cry.  Way down deep, buried under many layers of concrete, there is that tiny part of me that wants to be loved, but at the same time, I’ve been so desperate for that attention that I found myself clinging to the first person who paid attention to me in a long time.  Obviously, that isn’t very healthy.  It’s like I lose who I am when someone pays attention to me which is really rather ridiculous.  I have goals and dreams and am working towards them, even if it might be at a snail’s pace.

My Mom wonders why I would want to put myself into the position of being in another relationship after being hurt so much by my marriage and divorce.  She’s been divorced for almost 30 years and at least from my opinion, she has never really gotten over it.  She is quite content to be alone and do her own thing.  I have to admit, there is something appealing about that, because there is no way for me to ever get hurt, but at the same time, I don’t really want to be alone for the rest of my life.  I like to say that I’m happily divorced, but sometimes that is a complete lie that I tell myself so that I don’t have to cry myself to sleep.

I know that I’m a hopeless romantic, which is at complete odds with the person who has so many walls up, that it’s going to take more than just dynamite to knock them down.  It’s like, if I can’t have it all and have it be absolutely perfect then I don’t want to bother.  Of course, that it is absolutely the most ridiculous idea.  No one and nothing is perfect.  I was married for almost 10 years; I know how much work goes into a relationship, even one you’re miserable in. 

Which leads me to now, at 4 in the morning, writing a blog for the first time in several years.  The words were locked inside me, because I was afraid to let them out.  I’ve started a few blog entries now and then but I’ve been afraid to admit my feelings to myself because then they would become real and honestly, who wants to deal with reality when the fantasies seem so much better because the chance of getting hurt is zilch. 

It’s time for me to get over myself and grow up.  I’ve got responsibilities, to my kids, to my family, my job, my dreams and even myself.  I don’t need to let anyone else’s actions dictate how I feel because I am the only one who can control how I respond to any given situation.  As much as I would like to have a boyfriend, someone to hang out with and kiss now and again, I’m not going to let this one guy be the end all be all.  Eventually, I’ll find someone.  If it’s him, great, if not, hopefully I’ll be in a better place when I do meet him. 

For now, having the words finally unlocked feels pretty darn good.  Now I’m afraid they’ll just come pouring out like they did tonight, but maybe that’s a good thing.  If I can just allow myself to feel everything then maybe I can start to move forward and do all the other things that I’ve been afraid of because I didn’t want to get hurt. 

It’s time for me to stop shying away from touch, whether physical, mental or emotional because when push comes to shove, maybe touch is the most important sense there is.