Alright, let's get a little personal, shall we? I'm going to warn you now, this might be a little TMI for some of you as parts of it will be sexually explicit...but it's a real issue and I need to get it out. Here's what happened: my ex came up to Sacramento yesterday for the Super Bowl party I was telling you about (see last post). A few days before the game he tried to get me to engage in a little sexting...which as I understand it, is like phone sex executed via text messaging. I refused to participate because A). we're not together anymore and B). what good would it do? He was at work and we live an hour apart so it's not like the sexting would have or could have materialized into more. I told him that he needed to find someone he could have casual, meaningless, no strings attached sex with - but that that person wasn't me. It's not casual and meaningless to me...not when it comes to him...or when it comes to "us." I think that's a fundamental difference between men and women. So I turned him down even though it was extremely difficult. And I think he was surprised that I suggested he go search for ass elsewhere.
Then there was Saturday night...not long after I wrote the last post on here. We started texting back and forth to confirm times for Sunday and in a moment of temporary insanity...a complete lapse in judgment and common sense...I said that he could come up that night, after he got off work, and could stay the night. This was approximately 9:30 pm (around the time he was supposed to be leaving work...he's also a bartender on top of the modelling thing). He said had been thinking about coming up early but that the bar was still busy and he didn't think he'd be able to leave until more in the 10:30-11:00...then you'd have to add in an hour's worth of drive time...so we agreed that he should just come up Sunday morning before the game, but really he's the one who said no. Part of me felt rejected because I was the one who had thrown the offer out there and if he had wanted to come badly enough, he would have driven up no matter how late it was. I wasn't expecting him to say no but when he did, I figured it was a blessing in disguise because I knew (deep down) that it would have been a bad idea. I knew that one night of physical intimacy would have reversed some of the healing I've done since we split up a year ago. So I let it go and concluded that the window of opportunity had closed...the moment of temporary insanity had passed...and whether I felt slightly rejected or not, it was for the best.
Anyways, yesterday at the Super Bowl party it was just like old times. We were legitimately enjoying each other's company. I introduced him to my new co-workers...he held my hand and the more he drank, the more touchy feely he got. I was still a little bruised from being turned down Saturday night so I was determined to stand my ground on the "no hooking-up" rule, more than anything, just out of sheer spite. Plus, I didn't want to ruin the day we had just had...it was nothing short of perfect. We hadn't been able to hang out like that in a looooooong time. I felt like we made progress - real progress - towards building a friendship in the wake of our traumatic break-up.
When the game was over, we had both been drinking and as we were walking to our cars, he kissed me in the parking lot. Isn't it sad that that's all it took? He asked me if he could follow me back to my house to "make sure I got back alright" and of course, I said yes. It's almost painful for me to think about what happened after we left Center Court. It's something I'd rather just forget about at this point but I guess I might as well finish the story.
We got to my house and started watching Old School. By that point, we both knew what was going to happen next...
Next thing you know, we were upstairs going at it. He had had way more to drink than I had and even though I could taste the alcohol on his breath, he didn't seem out-of-control drunk. After about 30 minutes he lost all momentum...went totally limp...there, I said it. I felt like it was my fault. He kept saying that it was because he had been drinking but we have had sex in the past when he was way more intoxiacted than he was last night and that had never happened before...so it was weird. I couldn't help but think about the sexting conversation a couple of days prior that had failed to take-off and the night before the game when he had turned down my invitation to come to Sacramento and then, of course, the awkwardness of yesterday...it was messing with my head. He, on the other hand, was determined to keep it going so while I had completely checked out he was trying desperately to continue...which just made it even more frustrating. Finally I told him to stop. It wasn't working. We used to have such great sexual chemistry, we used to be so in-sync with one another...I kept wondering, had we lost all of that?
And just as we had arrived at a pivotal point in our day together, he did the worst thing I think he could possibly do...he just left. He didn't lay there and try to make conversation, he didn't try to console me or reassure me that it wasn't my fault. I can't say I blame him...I probably would have wanted to leave too. So now it's Monday morning and I haven't heard from him since he left last night. I guess, more than anything, I've realized that it's time to let go...I mean, really let go. Because I can't move on with my life while I'm still partially invested in the past and clearly the past has changed. We're not the same couple that used to be on fire for eachother. There's disconnect and awkwardness and rejection and once the system has been thrown out of balance, there isn't much than can be done realign everything. The sex was the one thing I knew we still had, the one good thing we could always come back to...which is a very unhealthy thing to cling to in a dying relationship...but it was something.
So I'm sitting at work this morning and I'm upset. I'm angry at myself for giving into the urge when I knew it was a bad idea and I promised myself I wasn't going to go there. I'm also sad that the last little spark from our flame has (seemingly) burned out. I know that if I'm going to let go, I have to let go 100% and not a single percent less. I owe it to myself to finally put the past three and a half years to rest so that I can focus all of my energy and attention on the future. But it's hard...just as hard right now as the day he left.
In life, sometimes we're the chasers and the clingers and the ones who will go down with the sinking ship rather than jump off to save ourselves. Other times we're the ones being chased. But whichever role we play, we have to know when it's time for the final curtain. And in all seriuosness, I know that that time has come for us...for the sake of my sanity and the sake of my happiness...for the sake of my future and for the sake of preserving the good memories I have from our time together.
And it also doesn't help that it's a Monday...bleh.
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