My Love Life -or- Why I Can’t Talk to Josh and Smoke

I miss my friend Josh desperately. But talking to him makes me think. It’s worse when we’re together, and impossible to prevent when we’re watching horror movies. Apparently over FB chat it’s just enough to prevent me from sleep. Add some indica to try and pass out, and now my mind keeps forming patterns and lessons I’d write to Celetisa.

There are two men that I’ve been with that I would have married, despite what my best friend thought. There are several men I considered for the long haul, but only two that had they asked, I would have said yes, right then and there, damned be the consequences.

Why? Why those men? What about those men made them different?

They were confident, nearly rounding on arrogant. But confident is more accurate, because both had reason to be proud of their lives. They both opened doors to me sexually…they were huge landmarks in my sexual healing. They also both wounded me horribly. In very different ways, but I was hurt and feared I’d be unable to recover in both cases. They both challenged me mentally, and taught me new things. They both spurred my therapy healing, and supported me in ways I’d been previously unsupported…

I think it’s because I thought I’d “arrived” in terms of men at those points. I was happy, even if I was slightly blind to logic or complete health. When Preston Wilson called me his girlfriend, I felt proud and honored, like I was finally worthy and that label was the proof. When Steven Fanara kissed the back of my neck after fastening my collar, I felt complete, accepted, and beautiful; so very loved. Things weren’t perfect, in either case. But I was happy. Happy enough to quit chasing the dream of being ok, and to settle in and just breathe a bit.

I have felt for years like I’m racing, running behind everyone else, gasping and feeling my knees start to buckle under my momentum. I was always telling people how tired I was, because I felt tired. I felt exhausted, constantly. Pushed to the edge of my limits. But not now-not lately. I am drained sometimes, emotionally so. But I feel strong. I feel safer. I feel like I can impact how the race is run, and I’ve got time to go at a steady pace.

Why? Is it the new job with fewer hours, this time not paired with college or running a non-profit? Is it the state of my mind, the melded consciousness that has become the norm? Maybe my poly lifestyle, that is equal and consistent for the first time since I tried it with Nathan. Maybe I’m just old enough now to be calmer? Or that I am the least suicidal I’ve been since I was twelve years old…it could be anything. Everything. There’s too many factors to sort out the defining feature.

It doesn’t matter, really, why. It’s just nice that it is.

I can breathe up here. Maybe it’s the mountain air.

I am in the midst of a relationship with a man that has set new standards for me. The main one being timing. I am going slow, for the first time ever. The problem I’ve had with slow, I think, is that I feel it either defines everything about the relationship or it traps me into unfun situations. Matt and I do a lot of crazy shit-like, a lot. But in other ways we go insanely slow. Because it’s ok that we go fast here and slow there. No one is judging us. No one watches us. No one cares. It’s insanely freeing.

Something truly marvelous that I got from dating Steve was the idea that my happiness matters as much as my partner’s. I think that Steve taught me the same lesson that Rose learns in The Joy Luck Club. At the end she talks about how she’d forgotten how much her love was worth. Steve taught me that my love was worth having. His family and his friends made me feel that. Even over the last year-fuck, even more so over the last year.

That’s probably a big reason why we’re still friends. He loves me, and thinks that my loving him is worth having in his life. Even if we love each other differently now.

Giving my love to Matt, sharing my happiness and contributing his happiness, it’s something I think I struggled with when dating Steve. And I did better with Steve than I had previously. Now I feel like I might be kinda good at it.

Maybe it’s trust. Like any woman in our society, and like any abused-as-a-kid-adult, I have trust issues. I’ve made great strides though, and do pretty well, all things considered. I trust a lot.

It’s that I’m learning to trust myself.

Well, it is about damn time, I guess.

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