Like a bad bladder infection, you instantly recognize the tingle.
The security, the little bubbles in your stomach, the feeling that there is no way you’ll ever not feel this.
Last time, it all went away.
I want to explain why it went away, why I chose to send it away. There are so many little reasons and I know it was the right decision, but the guilt and the feeling that I should have tried harder, that I should have found a way to swallow everything that was wrong and crush the impulsive rebellions because that’s what you do when you make a commitment like that, that feeling is still there.
I can’t change anything, or the fact that I knew it wasn’t right from the beginning. I spent six years searching for a question that would make it the right answer. Now, I just want to neatly sort everything out. The hows and the whys. Put them into their nice little boxes and write a few paragraphs on what I did wrong and promise I’ll never let it happen again.
If it were that easy I wouldn’t have this gnawing fear in my stomach that I am going to let it all happen again.
I rebounded in spectacularly dramatic fashion, reinforcing that I’m just an emotional adrenaline junkie. The hurt is so exquisitely delicious when it’s not really real.
I slogged through that mire to learn that I didn’t want to expend the emotion if it wasn’t real. So, I thought I’d keep my boy interaction limited to text flirting and the occasional drunken dalliance. Dig a moat around myself and those pesky feelings and wave gleefully across the water, keeping the bridge up.
Then, cliche of cliches, he gets me. And I feel like myself. And I start to realize he’s not someone I want to keep on the other side.
It’s great, it’s fuzzy, it’s fulfilling. He feels the same way. We spend hours just goofing around. The sappy things we say don’t make me want to barf. It’s genuine and real.
But I’m still scared. Terrified, in fact.
And that’s okay because I have so much to figure out before I go all in. The questions and the answers have to do with me, not him.
This mix of fear and fuzzy is intoxicating. It’s got me thinking all these crazy thoughts about the future, knowing I need to focus on myself in the present to get there.
It’s giving me the tiniest bit of hope that I can get this right.