Memoirs on a Sunday: Confessions

Ok, maybe not a lot of sex, but definitely some confessions. 
Friday was my usual night hanging out with Friend. Last week things got a little, familiar. I’d asked him to rub my neck, which he did, along with my back, lower back, butt, thighs and calves. Basically a full body massage, but then just relaxing back at the end of it, he sat close, much closer. The way he touched me bordered on, inappropriate, but not quite. The hint and promise was there. The voice in the back of my mind, laughing at his reactions to me was there too. She’s a vindictive little brat sometimes, but she’s strong and she likes to stay in control. Which she did. Watching him squirm as he pressed himself next to me. She laughed. I knew…. This wasn’t going to go anywhere. I knew.
I’m playing a game here. Except I can’t play this game. Part of me still wants him. A lot of me definitely wants him to want me. Which he can’t have but he does want. It amuses me to give him a glimpse of what he can no longer have. I want to drive him just a little bit crazy, teasing, except I can’t stop myself from going a little crazy too. Therapist thinks this is part of the reason I spun down so hard earlier this week. This is making it very difficult for me to move on. Very difficult to maintain my boundaries, my sanity, when the messages I’m given are so crossed and confused I can’t settle into my own skin, just want to crawl out of it.
This is beyond unwise, not to mention unhealthy. Who needs mental health? Oh, wait. I am also starting to get the twinges of guilt. Lady Friend and I are progressing nicely, we’ve passed that first time together so I feel more comfortable in our pace. We’re not ‘official’ or whatever the kids are calling it these days, but I foresee it in the not so distant future. I’m trying to hold off until after I go on vacation to formalize anything. Why? Honestly? Because I plan on being as uninhibited as I please and I want the freedom to do it. Unfortunately my conscience seems to have other plans for me.  I’m starting to feel those tendrils of attachment reaching into the lighter areas of my brain that tell me I have a good thing and not to fuck this up. That’s the challenge now isn’t it. Not fucking it up. 
Yesterday was another testament to my inability to not fuck with myself. Myself? Maybe I should consider those around me while I’m at it. I mean to. I swear it, but it happened anyways. 
Yesterday after getting no sleep and having incredibly violent mood swings I calmed down enough to make food for Club Boi’s Baconpalooza party. It’s a thing, just go with it. Yes, I’m strict vegetarian, but I cook meat for friends. No, I can’t try any of the dishes I made. 
Backstory: Club Boi and I have known each other for almost a year. We met on vacation last year. He was very obviously crushing on me (though he was with his current live in girlfriend unbeknownst to me) and one night after a rowdy night of partying he kissed me. That’s it, just kissed me, though he made it obvious that he wanted there to be more time spent. I latched onto Friend for ‘rescuing’ and found myself disentangled, reentengaled, otherwise entangled? Frying pan. Fire. Jump. All in the past. Club Boi and I from then on are only friends and one I keep at arm’s length-ish. We’ve been chatting more as our paths cross lately, and I’d hoped he’d gotten over his crush in almost a year so I didn’t think it was much of an issue. So there’s the background. 
Back to the party. I was, um, colorful ::grins:: the entire time. As soon as I got there I cracked my bottle of wine, put my dancing shoes on, and found my groove. I had all kinds of anxiety about the size the party was supposed to be (too many people are not good for me), the fact that my moods were mode shifting like mad… but it was fine. I drank, and drank, and had a nice continuous mellow buzz the entire time. No sloppy drunk, but definitely loosened up and relaxed. Almost happy. Dancing. People watch me dance, I’m hard to miss. Even if I’m just swaying to a beat, my motions are so fluid and I have hips that are hard to miss. I’ve mentioned before I was a stripper for a time, but even without that kind of dancing I seem to attract the attention various men and women in the area. No one else was dancing, not really. I didn’t care. I was in my own little world. Where that world was I have no idea. I felt like I was watching someone else pilot my body. I dissociated hard, but not in a way that was unpleasant, if that makes any sense. Alcohol doesn’t help. It exacerbates the problem if anything but anywhere is better than being stuck in my own head in the middle of a crowded party when my mood was boarding on Hulk Smash earlier in the day. And it was nice. Nice, mellow, free, floating, and somewhere outside of my Self.  
Lady Friend showed up eventually which helped get some of the men to back off. Some. Can someone please explain to me why guys continue to hit on a woman who is clearly with another woman? Doesn’t that just seem futile? Maybe I should have been a bitch, but in general I’m just not. Not unless I have to be, and I certainly had no need then. So Lady Friend and I cutes-ified it up all night. Me dancing, watching Friend watch me as he sat next to his lump of a wife. No, he’s not subtle. I was amused. And distracted. I haven’t quite hit familiarity with Lady Friend yet. It’s so disconcerting to look into the eyes of someone you’re sleeping with and recognize them but feel no connection to them. I see these liquid blue eyes staring back at me, but on some level I don’t recognize them, haven’t internalized them. There’s no ‘mine’ there, yet. She’s still very separate from me and I don’t know how to make the switch in a relationship that’s healthy. Not that I’ve had much opportunity to try. I really want to try this time. I’m worried about what it will take though. What will be the thing that jolts me into bridging the gap between our collective presences. ::sigh:: Therapist says I need to stop worrying about the future and just enjoy the time we spend together. It will happen when it happens and that’s going to be in its own time. If I fret about the ‘when’ then I will forget to enjoy the now. Which will only make it harder for that potential ‘when’ to arrive. ::double sigh:: Why can’t I predict the future already?!? Grumble. 
Finally after we’d gone out for real food I drove Lady Friend home. I had every intention of going home myself but realized that I was still a little too, um, well drunk, to drive. So I went back to the party to try and sober up. Bravo to me I say. There was a time not too long ago that I would have seen that 0.12 on my purse breathalyzer and said ‘screw it’ it’s only a 45 minute drive. That louder girl in the back of my brain reminded me that in fact, No, I did not want to potentially spend another night in jail due to drunk driving. I learned that lesson. We’ll let that be a story for a different day but know that lesson was most certainly learned. So here’s to learning from my mistakes. Cheers. I went back. 
In my mind I had this perfect idea of kicking off my clothes (I was wearing a bathing suit) jumping in the channel and floating in the water, smoking a cigarette, chatting with Club Boi. I got my wish, exactly. The party had quieted down. The water was serene and gentle. The only light from lanterns reflected on the water. Just me and Club Boi chatting in the water by the glow of my Turkish cigarettes. For just a moment, when I wasn’t floundering to stay afloat, I felt connected. It’s those small, tiny, moments that I look for. Those moments that bring me down to earth and ground me as I braced my feet on the side of the dock. We were reminiscing about last vacation and a private view that I’d shared with him, and the potential for this upcoming vacation (yes, me and all of my friends take one giant vacation together. It’s really pretty amazing). The wind had picked up to bring just a bit of a chill. As we huddled closer and closer together I should have seen the kiss coming. I hadn’t been expecting it, not really, not with his girlfriend right in the house. But there it was. And again. And again. I don’t know why I didn’t stop him right away. I honestly don’t. I’m not attracted to him in that way…. But I like that he’s attracted to me.  In those tiny little moments, I’m in those moments. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but for someone that dissociates as hard and as constantly as I do, I cling to them. The attention is nice too. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think so. How stupid can I be? I only feel mildly guilty about Lady Friend. Slightly more guilty about his girlfriend, whom I like a lot. More concerned about the amount of trouble I’m potentially setting myself up for. I have no idea how I’m going to get myself out of this when the time comes that we are actually alone on vacation together. 
I feel better when someone is touching me. It’s harder to lose my hold on reality when someone is helping to hold me here. Maybe that’s why I don’t care. Or don’t care enough to not do what I do. It’s disconcerting. He’s just using me.  Or trying to. I know that. What I don’t know, is why I allow it. I know I shouldn’t be so permissive, but I can’t seem to help it. Don’t want to help it, while at the same time….
I asked to get out of the water, feigning cold and chill easily enough. We dried off and I went to crash on their couch for the night. He actually came in to sort of tuck me in. It was touching really. If touching me hadn’t been his goal. He gave me a quick kiss goodnight before I passed out completely.
I wish I had a better explanation than “I’m being slutty”. I don’t often have the opportunity because I’m relatively anti-social. I don’t know. I don’t really think that’s it. I’m just, a mess of a human being. And yes, I do need attention. I need to not be alone. Surprise. 
I do what I do and I don’t always know why.
I wish I did.
And that was most of my weekend. ::sigh::

3 comments on “Memoirs on a Sunday: Confessions

  1. I keep trying to think of ways to joke about and make light of the BPD rape complaint frequency but, well… moving on. ::shudders:: The horror, haha. You'd think after working at a strip club I'd get used to that 'accident' but not so much. It's also very different when the target is familiar and don't have the accepted boundaries of the club environment. I've found that on average, strangers have a higher frequency of wanting to push the issue, familiar people have a higher frequency of actually pushing the issue. My problem, is that I have a very difficult time saying no and putting a stop to it, regardless of what I want. Meh. No wonder we get the promiscuous repuation.

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