As I lay in the dark, scanning the vast barrenness of my bed I run my hand over the empty landscape where he would sleep. Who is he? I don’t know. Last night as I dreamt he was a celebrity I had seen in an interview earlier that day. That wasn’t really who it was of course. Really he was just one of the muddy puddles in my memory, a puddle that used to be an ocean of love, joy and ultimately sorrow. He was the puddle I still occasionally dip my finger in, swirling it furiously trying to create a storm, a wave, something. Of course it never yields the desired results and as the puddle slowly dries up I lose interest.
I am filled with sadness and disappointment as I permit this dream man to lie in my bed and hold me. This is not what I want and I know it, even deep in slumber I know he isn’t the one who can change the landscape of my bed. As my eyes flutter open and my mind drifts back into conscious awareness, I am relieved and disappointed to find that the empty space in my bed has not been occupied.
When I can’t bear thinking about it anymore I roll to my other side and stare at the other silhouettes in the dark room. The furniture is just a collection of shapes in the quiet, lightless room. This room feels foreign even in the light. It isn’t really my room. I haven’t built my room, my bed, not yet. I assemble my room and space in my head. I begin my plan to rebuild. Things are falling back into place. Everything is nearly reassembled.
I am ready to begin again, out on my own. I become excited at the prospect of having opportunities to date, socialize and entertain. I smile in the dark. I drift back to sleep full of hope and optimism. I am ready. I am excited.
Posted by trjensen on February 28, 2013
Here’s a funny story. Instead of getting rid of the kitty I have (and yes I have seriously considered giving her away) in an attempt to cat the odds of me becoming a cat lady, I have actually acquired another cat. Where oh where did I get my new kitty you may be asking yourself. The story is pretty fucking funny.
A few weeks ago the guy I used to date, who I love but doesn’t want a relationship with me, moved into a new apartment with a new roommate who is allergic to cats. He has had his kitty, Whiskers, for a very long time. His cat has a great disposition and we got to know each other over the three months the “Guy with the Smile” and I dated. When he learned his new roomie couldn’t live with his kitty GwtS asked me if I would take him. Me being the sucker that I am, and not wanting him to just give his kitty away to some stranger, agreed to adopt his beloved thirteen year old cat.
I actually like Whiskers and my cat doesn’t really have an issue with him being here but after a lot of thought I realized that my ex may be contributing to my inevitable future as some sort of cat hoarder. In fact, it is as though he is encouraging me to embrace that outcome. I am one step closer to my cat lady fate. I didn’t realize it at the time. When he asked I just figured that if I had his kitty he could still see his cat from time to time and that his cat would have a loving home.
Now I have kinda’ convinced myself that GwtS is just trying to get me to accept my fate. I love the cat. I am keeping the cat but I resent GwtS for giving me the cat. (Totally rational, I know!) I have been duped, bamboozled, hoodwinked. I may not get you but I’ll always have your cat. ROFL!
Maybe I should just have every man I date buy me a cat. It can be my consolation prize for failed relationships. At least the cats will have sentimental value.
I was going to live a life where my major relationship was with a bottle of wine and I’d finally die fat and alone and be found three weeks later, half-eaten by
wild dogs cats. - Bridget Jones The Narcissist
Posted by trjensen on April 4, 2012
I have written about this topic before, The Magic Number. I am neither proud nor ashamed of the number of men I have slept with. It does however bother me that anyone would ask me just how many men that is, outside my close circle of friends.* I figure that if you are in a relationship or starting one with someone that that is what is important, you and your partner. Let’s live in the now, shall we?
I don’t care how many women a man has slept with or even why he did, I care that he was safe and clean, but the actual number is unimportant. I have had men ask me my number and I always answer the question truthfully because I pride myself on how open I am. I also love the, often, surprised look on their faces when I answer the question. I love watching them take my answer in and their shock at the readiness with which I respond. In most instances I feel that if they are going to base the longevity of our relationship on my past then we might as well get it out of the way early on and if they cannot deal then it is best I find out sooner rather than later.
But really, why do men even want to know? If you are concerned about who is more experienced, being intimate will likely answer any questions you might have. I find that in most instances it is more about ego. I don’t care about ego. If I want to be with a man then I want to be with him. I have even found in situations where the sex was lacking, I could still have a pretty solid relationship. There is always the potential for improvement. Sex is the best when you care about each other’s needs and are willing to take the time explore what appeals to both parties. Truly fulfilling sex takes time and a willingness to learn what your partner needs. No amount of partners is going to teach what an individual wants.
Numbers don’t mean much to me. I hate being asked. How is my past relevant to my present? I am in a place in my life where I just want one. I want one for a good long time but sometimes things don’t work out the way we want and I may just increase my number. It doesn’t bother me. I am looking for someone to share my life with and that means a few more notches in my bedpost. If that means I have more experience then any sane guy should appreciate that as much as a woman appreciates a man who is fantastic in bed.
I always liken inquiring about one’s number to slut shaming. Like my number of partners says something terrible about me rather than what it means to me. My number means that I have been looking for someone amazing for a while, who could be amazing in many aspects of my life and I just haven’t found him yet. That is what my number means. It doesn’t make me feel like I am a slut or that I am too promiscuous. What it means is that I am still looking and trying to find the right man for me.
And I do like sex. I especially like sex with when I see the potential for something more and if I see it then the last thing you should be doing is asking me how many partners I have had. You should be making sure I don’t kill bunnies or I don’t hate babies. You should be inquiring about my plans for the future; you most certainly shouldn’t be worrying about who I was sleeping with before I found you.
*One of my friends asks me about my number based on the idea that once you have had twenty partners you will never get married a la the movie “What’s Your Number?” She always asks me,”How many guys until you are never getting married?” I think it is hilarious!
Posted by trjensen on January 26, 2012
It is amazing, even to me, how fragile my ego is. I am sad. I am sad because of a guy… again. For the first time since the fiasco late last year I genuinely wanted to like someone. Turns out wanting to like someone and wanting someone to like you hurt just about equally but at least it has me writing. I’ll be okay. I always am even when I don’t feel like I am going to be. I think sometimes I just want to stay in this state of hurt and shattered ego so I am okay with being alone.
I guess my biggest issue is I really don’t understand what I am doing wrong. I know that I am mis-stepping somewhere. I am just not sure where or when that is happening. I am not afraid to ask what it is that has changed. It isn’t because I hate myself or because I want to feel sorry for myself. I really want to understand what is happening. I am still making it difficult for men to see a future with me and I want to understand why that is.
I ask and get no answers. And I am then left replaying what has transpired and trying to figure out what still needs to change in my behavior. I want to be able to function in a relationship and not feel like I need to second guess myself. I really felt like I had reached that place but apparently I haven’t, the place where I can relax and just enjoy someone’s company. I guess it is acceptance that I am struggling with. But that is something I guess I have always had trouble with.
Rejection is hard regardless of gender or the stage you are getting to know someone. Wanting to connect with someone is amazing and rare in my experience. I still need to work on some things I guess. It would be easier if I understood what they were.
Posted by trjensen on September 24, 2011