Maybe because I found him on Tinder.
But I’ll discuss this later.
My reasoning for not dating or having a boyfriend, or even someone I spend time with, is because I never let myself get to those points. The closest I got to a relationship was with someone who lived two hours away, and told me after six months that he would still get with another girl if he had the opportunity. It wasn’t his fault though. He told me from the start that he didn’t want anything serious. Note to all women out there: they aren’t lying when they say this, and 90% of the time they cannot be changed. Move quickly and efficiently to the next.
After that, I didn’t dare put myself out there. I let my body take over. I let my sexual drive override my emotions for someone. This started a journey of ten sexual partners in about a year. Almost half were one-night stands. This whole idea of sex is another article that I will hopefully be published soon (stay tuned).
And then my life turned around. I finally got the right medication for my depression and anxiety, I became sober, and I was starting a full-time job with benefits soon. Most importantly, I was myself again. And Tinder was just for bored nights, when my insomnia kicked in (that still wasn’t under control, and I don’t think it will ever be. I accepted it. Some nights.)
And then I met him. He goes, “hey what’s up! I think you’re the only aspiring novelist on tinder”, which was in my bio. I didn’t roll my eyes for some reason, even though a lot of people asked about my novelist aspiration and what my next novel will be about. Aspiring was a key word they seemed to forget. But with him for some reason I started off with a witty comment back (something about mixing up Linkedin with Tinder). It didn’t just work, it started a conversation worth another one the next day, and some the week after, and then he asked if I wanted to meet him.
Meeting someone on Tinder, what a fucking joke right? That’s what I thought and cancelled the day of our supposed date. But he texted me a week later and I asked him. I wanted to meet him, I really did. And so it happened. We went to Starbucks, where I am right now writing this article that seems way too personal (but that’s what PassionHub is all about isn’t it?). Then we went to his apartment. And had sex. And talked. And had sex again. And then watched a movie and ordered Chinese. And then had sex again. And it just felt right. I felt comfortable. I didn’t want to leave right after he finished like in most cases. I looked at him more than I did any other. Most importantly, our talking wasn’t just what do you do, why that job. It was questions like have you ever thought maybe what you see as blue, I see as a different shade.
______________________________
He wrapped his arms around
me, his leg over mine,
my head in his chest.
And we just laid there in
silence for a few minutes
______________________________And then we went on our second date. We got sushi, went bowling and then went to his apartment. We had sex three times again, even better than the first three. We talked about our similar issues, something I never admitted to a guy before because I knew they wouldn’t understand. I kept playing in my mind that I really liked him. And I blurted it out. I finally admitted it to someone. Of course, I’ve liked a couple of guys but never told them. Never wanted to be the first one to say it. But I didn’t care this time. I didn’t care about rejection or the outcome of my sudden outburst. And he said it back. I admitted to him that I don’t normally do that. And he told me he was glad I did.
And then he did something no one has ever done with me. He knew what I just said was a big deal. He understood. He wrapped his arms around me, his leg over mine, my head in his chest. And we just laid there in silence for a few minutes. I felt his heartbeat, calm. I closed my eyes. They weren’t fluttering. I wasn’t faking it like I would usually just to pretend I was calm like I did with all of the others. For the first time in my life, I felt protected by a guy. I felt better than okay. And I wouldn’t have minded staying in that position for the whole night.
As I write this, I want to cry. I feel a lump in my throat. I don’t know why really. Maybe because all of my life (I know I’m only twenty-two), I’ve thought I wasn’t worth that. I wasn’t worth having someone hold me and want to hold me. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t even worth living.
I want this feeling so badly. I don’t want this feeling at all. I want to be loved. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to keep going.
IT’S BEEN TWO FUCKING DAYS TOGETHER. Why am I like this?
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