I’m conflicted between desiring the intimate touch of someone and wanting to keep as far as possible from anyone and everything.
After he left…after what happened, I made a mistake. I went out that next weekend, got VERY drunk, and made out with someone. “Harmless”. But not for me. He pushed himself so close and his hands kept roaming and grabbing all over my body. At one point during this groping he said “God, I love your ass” and even in my drunken state, this saddened me so much. My immediate thought as he said this had been, “You sound like him…great.” The following thought was, “That really is all they care about…this really is all they want from me, isn’t it?” I was so sad by this…
Tonight I went to the movies with a guy I haven’t seen in years. He was coincidentally the first guy (on my very short list of guys) that I had ever made out with. It was completely random, but I went nonetheless and actually had fun. It was all innocent until I went to hug him outside my car. He ended up grabbing me and kissing me. One hand tightly on my waist and the other on my ass. He was a good kisser so I allowed this for a moment. It went from me laughing in disbelief as I drove away to slowly growing quiet and, once again, sad, because there had been a hidden agenda there the whole time. There had the first time he’d kissed me three years ago, and the drunken mistake after my breakup had also been plotted about a week in advance.
I crave physical contact but at the same time, when it’s happening, I pretty much just end up feeling shitty about myself. Instead of it being a self esteem booster like “Yeah, these people want to be all over me” or “Yes, I’m getting the physical stuff I’ve been wanting!!”, all I can keep thinking is “this is all I am”.
I know I’m so much more…I just can’t seem to accept it again just yet. I know this mentality is part of the scar he left….I’m still trying to figure out how to not love him. How to not miss sleeping in his bed at night or think of all the plans we’d been making…The hurt of knowing in the end, that all I was to him was essentially a piece of ass, that his view of me changed one day from me being amazing and him caring about my well-being, to matching those of random guys that mean nothing to me…nothing is more degrading.
So for the moment, physical activity is ruined for me. He ruined it. Because now my view is that my worth is centered around my body. Not my intelligence, my creativity, kindness, ambition, my passion for my future…because nobody seems to care about any of that. This is the third time in a month my body has been the basis of my worth. I’m tired of feeling like they’re right even though, deep down, I know it’s not true.
I’m tired of writing long-ass Tumblr posts at 2:45 in the morning while eating half a pizza because the memories of him keep me up at night. I’m tired of not being able to focus on my studies, the most important thing to me, because everything seems so much more dull without him here. I’m tired of not even realizing I’m listening to sad music because my subconscious apparently wants something present to parallel how I feel.
I’m so damn tired…