Friday, June 25, 2010

Well, it has been a bit.

I know, normally I'm posting a few times a week. I've been avoiding this blog of late. The whole thing with the ex left a sour taste in my mouth, combined with PD reading this thing (though he hasn't touched recent entries out of respect of letting me write freely, knowing that it's likely he'll eventually catch up to the "now" of things is a bit of a stopper for me and I need to work through it).

It has also been busy. I'm with PD almost every night, with C on the one night a week I'm not at PD's place. We spend most of the waking hours of the evening together, then I sleep and he goes back to work in his office.

And... I like it. I like this.

I've been processing a lot lately, trying this pieces out, trying to reflect and see what goes together, what doesn't go together, what theories fit, what can be applied, and what was nonsense.

It's hard to sort out the fantasies from the realities, sometimes.

I still am not sure if GV8 was the man I thought him to be, or if I just idolized him so much that I failed to see his flaws.

If he was who I thought he was, then he changed dramatically in the end.

If I idolized him so strongly, then it was only at the end that I started acknowledging behaviors of his as poor, and that was only enabled because I was away from him for long enough during that last split to get my head back together to a degree, and because I started dating PD, which reminded me of what a "normal" relationship was like.

You know, where partners are equals.

Where disagreements end in discussions, not decrees.

Experiencing that was like shedding off a too-heavy cloak.

An "Ooh, yeah, I forgot this."

And then it came back.

The knowledge, the experience, the things that I said I would never let myself do or never let someone do to me because it was unhealthy and unequal.

I keep thinking back to the party he took me to that Saturday, our first Saturday back together, the Saturday we split up. The people. Gods, the people. The sex in the pool, on the hill, the man pissing into the girls mouth until she fell into the planter, the drunk couple playing drowning games in the pool, her face bright red, make-up slogging down her cheeks like a strung-out whore, the rolls of fat hanging over rope-corsets, the people barely sober enough to walk up a short flight of stairs, the man shoving some girl's face down on another's cock, the blonde Vienna sausage- so stupid, so arrogant, so compensating, the trust-fund baby with the bitch-tits, the Playboy/Penthouse/Hustler/Whatever photographer with the skeezy ponytail, the roaming eyes when GV8 introduced me, the though flashing across faces of knowledge that he swings, so they'll be fucking me soon enough, the girl bent over in front of the bar, getting punched in the back, her grunting screams like some wild beast dying.

This was not for me.

That life was not for me.

I stood there, looking around, feeling trapped, feeling so anxious, my fiance apathetic to my distress, later telling me that if I couldn't accept his party lifestyle, I shouldn't have said yes. Later telling me that he would fuck when he wanted, who he wanted, all I had to do was be at the same party.

I stood there, looking around, and realized that as little as I think of myself so often, I am a thoroughbred compared to the majority of the crowd he was exposing me to, and I would be ruining myself if stayed and allowed the trash at that party access to my life, my body.

I sat across from him at the diner, looking at him, feeling my sadness and rage growing as he laid down his law again. Realizing that nothing had changed. Realizing that I was second class. Realizing that it was no longer love he felt for me, no longer chasing me to be with me, wanting me to be happy.

No. He was missing his favorite chew toy. The squeaky ball. And the only way to get it back was to dangle a deep desire in front of it, one that would keep it there without chance of ever leaving again.

It stopped being "us", it started being "him", more than it had been before.

I want to hate him for ruining it. This whole thing spills over onto good memories like a bottle of ink. I would have happily spent the rest of my life looking back on him, wishing things could have worked out, daydreaming about how things could have worked out, still thinking of him as the most amazing man I'd ever dated, letting the "what if"s run about my head.

Instead I'm at this foggy place where I'm trying to be understanding, trying not to be mad, trying to recognize that he is simply human with a lot of experience in managing people, but not a lot of experience in maintaining a relationship. He doesn't get certain things. Maybe he's not wired that way, maybe he just doesn't have the experience, maybe he simply doesn't care.

It doesn't matter much, though. I've been told by both PD and Roman in their own ways that the intentions, the feelings, don't matter, it's only the outcome. To stop trying to analyzing him and our relationship, stop trying to puzzle it out, and just accept how he handled things (poorly) as an end result and work forward from there.

Now... now I'm here. Nerd Control Tower. Sitting on a comfy futon, cats around me, cat hair on my face, on PD's laptop. I'm with a man who really likes me. Maybe even adores me, in his own way. He treats me incredibly well, we have a wonderful dynamic and, yeah, there are issues. Some of them we may or may not get through. But he never tells me that it's his way and if I don't like it, then I should leave. Or if I don't change my behavior, I'm not worthy of dating.

It's unexpected.

Meeting someone so soon.

And I think that part of me knows that if this doesn't work out, and doesn't work out in such a way that causes me a good deal of pain, I'm going to withdraw for a bit, hermit up in my shell.

I've gotten commitment-phobic. Relationship-phobic.

It was fine, pre-proposal, but now that that is all over, I'm terrified of being in a relationship again and each time some little thing happens with PD, my first instinct is to bolt. Fuck this, fuck relationships, fuck trying to work things out, I can't handle this, I'm so gone. And each time I have to sit myself down and remind myself that I'm being irrational, getting spooked too easily, that PD is not GV8, that he's never going to treat me like GV8 did.

And that makes it sound so bad. Like GV8 was abusing me or something.

He wasn't. He was caring and supportive, nearly always willing to lend a hand. He was good to me, good in ways that I needed.

But, ultimately, it turned into something not good. And there was always that undercurrent of imbalance that was maintained, that undercurrent that let me be constantly aware that I better be good enough for him, or I'm gone. And I better let him do what he wants, or he's gone. Which really pushes home the idea that I'm not equal in value to him. I'm of lower value. Inconsequential, really.

Nothing more than something that makes him feel good.

The erratic behaviors, the ups and downs, the constant testing, the lack of communication, the sink holes, it was a constant battlefield of me trying to keep my head up, me trying to be what he desired.

I don't know, I'm too tired to explain this right now. It's going to keep coming out incoherent messness.

He loved me, in his own way.

And I hurt him. In his eyes, I'm sure I utterly betrayed him. I told him I would marry him, marry him on July 1st, and then I bailed. I went against what I promised to do, went against my word.

And he'll never understand why.


  1. needy,greedy, winey, immature, insecure victim!!!!!

  2. I think you did the right thing poetry. Despite what anon says, it is all about you. This applies to us allThe most significant thing for any of us is what happens to us directly. I don't know gv8 so, to be honest, i couldnt care less about his motivations. You do know him and it is clearly a key part in your life. I could tell you about my troubled relationshi with The Stalker and while it may pass a few minutes, it isn't that important to you because you don't know her. This whole BDSM scene is something I never really understood, even after going to a few clubs in london and Bangkok. What I don't understand is how it is exciting if you can stop it at any time with a safe word. I have been in several situations where my life was in serious threat and there was no safe word. I'll admit the adrenalin rush was high but how can it be so when you can stop it all with just a word?

    My opinion, for what its worth, is that your conclusion that you were being treated as less than a person and more as the favourite squaky toy is absolutely correct. Don't worry if you feel commitmentphobia - we all get that.

  3. Well I say BRAVO! To you. This is not winey to me. This is brave. This is reality. I am proud of you for realizing that it wasnt going to work. That after all, he was a swinger before you met him, a swinger while you knew him, and he will probably be a swinger for the rest of his life. He is true to himself and doesnt deny that. If you had chosen to marry him you would bhave been agreeing to marry into his life style, and those people you described, that is reality, that is what you would have been married to.

    I took note of something you said in this post, about being with PD every day and then with C on the other night.

    Filling up every day with other people keeps you from being alone. I just broke up with my guy 2 days ago for the 4th time. I finnally realized that for the past 10 years I havent been alone. Every since I left My ex-husband 10 years ago, excluding the first 4 months, I have been in a reltaionship.

    I have prevented myself from being alone. Now, I admit that it is my fear, to be alone, to not have someone to love and spend my days with, an intimate companion. So I am dealing with it, finnally. Because of my fear of being alone, I have "fallin" into relationships with the worst kind of men. Ones that werent right for me. I can do so much better I am a thorough bread, top drawer, but because of my underlying fear of being alone, I was like a vacume sucking up the dirty crumbs.

    Now, I am dealing with my lonliness for the first time, at 50 years old. It is tuff, but it is making me happy, that finally, I am not settling any more. If I cant have the man that I really need, one that I am worthy of, I would rather be alone. I can make myself happy. I will find a way. I wont let myself down. Once I have accomplished that, I will be more attractive to the kind of person that is right for me. One that will compliment who I am, and I wont have to change, He will love me the right way.

    You are the lucky one. You have your whole life ahead of you. I wish for you that you will learn from everything that has happened, and every thing your fellow bloggers say, that you are worth so much more and you should take as much time as you need to make your choices. Dont be down on yourself for being indecisive. Just make sure that whatever you commit to, is something you are really willing to stick with. so you dont end up looking back on your life and thinking, I just wasted 10 years of my life and I am still alone, the one thing I feared the most. Take care, Thanks for the post, Suzie Q

  4. I'm so glad you found someone who treats you like you deserve. Just try to relax and enjoy it... I know much easier said than done. I can relate to the feeling of wanting to bail at the first sign of uncertainty. I know it all too well. If you did, you'd always look back and wonder. Take what he's offering and know that you're worthy of being treated like the queen that you are.

  5. to you, miz v, i say "good processing". but mostly i laugh heartily at anonymous: dude, it's her blog. of course it's all about her. want it to be about you? get your own fucking blog. be all sanctimonious about it over there.

  6. I am a bit surprised at how you're demonizing GV8 and taking on a bit of the victim mentality about all of this. He is what he is and what he's been for most of his life: a man very used to getting his own way in all things. You, of all people, know his type. You've described him to a "T" in blog posts here and in elaborating over time about what attracts you about men you want to date.

  7. Toni,

    You know, that's exactly right. It is passing the time, sharing stories and experiences with our partners who others have never met, or only briefly. It's hard to even attempt to really understand the dynamic.

    As for the BDSM clubs/parties/scene, eh, it is more psychological than actually being focused on the adrenaline rush. I've played at one or two of these get togethers, and it's fun, but I'd rather one-on-one it.


    I don't worry about loneliness so much, I don't really get lonely that often. But it is hard to keep myself away from PD. I know that if it wasn't for C couchsurfing with me once a week, I'd likely never see my apartment.

    Don't consider it that you've wasted ten years of your life. You've grown, done, and learned things in that time, important things that make you who you are today. Don't discard that so easily. :)


    After having read your blog for awhile, I'm not at all surprised that you're even more skittish than I am. What happened to you was awful. If I had gone through that, I'd likely have chopped off my ringfinger and installed a chastity belt as soon as I could.


    I keep thinking that as well, about that comment. That and, really, when the person who is supposed to care and love for you so much stops thinking of your happiness, stops thinking of your needs, and places his own above the needs of the relationship, then... you have to make it all about you, just to survive.


    I don't feel like I'm demonizing him, exactly. And, really, I would be significantly less aggressive about it if he had just drifted away, as opposed to the anonymous comments he keeps leaving (like the first one in this post). It's really hard to have him change so much, so quickly. He's gone from being my protector, my lover, my ideal to an angry man quite happily digging at me in order to cause pain. It makes me stop and re-evaluate, which is a bit distressing because we did have so many good times together and such a great connection, but when viewed through the filter of his current behavior, everything takes on this shadow of what his actual motivation was, what he behaviors meant, and how I interpreted them at the time based on my rose-colored glasses. I don't feel like I victim, I don't mean to come across as one, it's just me trying to puzzle it out. I made my own choices, knew what I was getting into (to some degree) and kept taking him back, knowing that it would put me through the wringer each time. It was my responsibility to handle myself and the situation as best I saw fit, and I did.

  8. My ring finger will stay only because I need it to type, but it will not have anything on it... maybe forever I don't know.

    A chastity belt.. well that would be difficult. I like sex too much. I'm just a whore at heart.