There are things in life that haunt us. The human mind has the incredible ability to seemingly forget all of the wonderful things we have accomplished and the good memories and instead torture us with every single mistake we have ever made. It’s easy to dwell on the little “I should have”‘s or the “I didn’t”‘s.
I shouldn’t have slept with that guy.
Sleeping with a total stranger was something totally against my personality and totally out of character for me. I barely knew him but there was fire and there was a raw carnal need that I simply didn’t wish to deny. I do not, for a second, regret any moment spent with him. I regret nothing that I did. However, I do regret perhaps pushing the situation. He asked me on dates a couple of times, but they never came to pass. Even though he swore it wasn’t, it was just sex. I didn’t want to get attached and he was a basket case. There was one night where we were trying to keep quiet because my roommate was home. Trying to keep quiet changed things. The sex was different. It was much more sensual and much slower. Looking at him in the moonlight, my heart was stirred. I think that he felt something too because I only saw him one other time after that. He acted strangely when he dropped me off at my house, kissing me but not trying to come upstairs. After the traditional phone call on his drive home, I never heard from him again.
For a while I tortured myself over what I could have done differently and what I probably said to make him vanish like that. I mean, when a guy you’re having sex with just up and disappears, it must have been something I did, right? Wrong. He was a mess. He had commitment issues and personality issues and depression issues – I was very serious when I said “basket case”. I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t my fault and that I felt slighted and cheap because I’d made myself available to a man I barely knew. Yes, he threw me aside, but I put myself in the position to be tossed out in the first place. I’ll accept some of the guilt here, but I miss it every day. He was handsome and wonderful to be around. He had everything going for him, but he was “50 shades of fucked up”.
So tonight, I was alone at an early screening of 50 Shades of Grey. It has been two and a half months since this guy vanished and then in he walks with a girl. First thought: “Oh fuck. Of all the places.” Second thought: “He moved on,” (even though it’s been almost three months and I assumed he had another girl within a week). Third thought: “I’m way hotter than her.” While the third thought was very conceited and totally unlike me, it was the pep talk I needed to recover from the slap in the face. What made her better than me? Then it occurred to me that she might just be his next victim and that they could have just met. He didn’t do the relationship thing so it’s likely he has gone through a handful of women between our time together and her.
He didn’t see me as far as I know, and they took a seat near the front of the theater. Now here is the secret…He reminded me of Christian Grey. He was rough and it was like a whole different person took over his body when it came to sex. He didn’t take his shirt off the first few times we had sex and he was pretty secretive about most of his life. So here I am, sitting in a theater, thinking about a man that is sitting less than twenty feet from me. Of course.
The movie was very well done and they perfectly portrayed the heartache and the raw passion that was there. I left the theater feeling all of their heart break as well as mine. Tonight I feel like I am the only person on this Earth.
I want passion and fire. I want someone to look at me the way that he looked at her. I want someone to want me so badly that he just takes me then and there. I want crazy, hot sex. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I’ve always wanted the love that is so intense that it threatens to consume you and results in steamy, sleepless nights full of kisses and desire. Tonight I had to come to terms with the fact that I don’t think that Alan is that kind of guy. I can’t see him throwing me on the couch and having his way with me. I was watching this movie and thinking of an old fuckbuddy instead of the love of my life.
Alan and I have only spent one night together. It was steamy and full of desire and longing. I was still a virgin so we didn’t have sex. Perhaps that is why I can’t see him that way. I am hoping that’s why, because I don’t want to imagine a world without either one of the things that I have grown to want most out of life.
And on a night when I’m haunted by ghosts and bad endings and I feel like the only person alive, I can’t have the only thing that would comfort me and soothe my fears. I can’t have him here.