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To be as wise as you are dishonest,

Is entirely rare.  I think that’s why we worked as friends, because of the basics of being private people of respect and dignity, love for the acoustic guitar, a fear of God, and existences made up of contradictions.  

And yes he knew me well, and with the bouts of wisdom that came from his existence and his lessons learned, he knew things that I didn’t.

My boyfriend might not want to read this part.  I’m talking to myself.

So he was right when he told me that I didn’t know what real intimacy was.  You don’t find intimacy from the boys at the parties, in the backs of friend’s cars, at schools, at shows, in bands, with guitars, with drugs, with alcohol, with cigarettes and nice words and sad stares.  You don’t find intimacy in a relationship spanning longer than you’ve stayed at most schools just because his appearance keeps you from focusing on the external.  Just because he’s ugly doesn’t mean that will help you get closer to him as a person.  It will earn leverage and control, resentment, wandering eyes, a desire to feign like everything is perfect, and an unreasonable amount of sex because no matter what I could not once get the feeling that I mattered to last longer than 5 minutes a week.  I was a liar in love with the fact that I had my claws in someone who would never dream of leaving me.  I was in love with the pedestal I was placed on and the plans that I would be taken care of by a boy who knew I was out of his league and we stepped lightly in each other’s presence.  I realize now that you do not tip-toe around the person you date.  It’s dishonest.  Its not a relationship if you’re on eggshells, its a game.  I was in a prolonged situation of every male encounter I’ve had since the age of fourteen.  Find a boy who looks hungry.  Be disinterested.  Get too drunk and let him make his move.  Or just let him make his move, and once the door is open I won’t care who it is so much anymore.  

There is the attention I hunted for, the feeling within myself that he wanted me and I didn’t want him so I was in power and it was good because when he moved on to the next because of my belt buckle, I would know that he is beneath me in his hungry search for sex, and I am above in my hidden fears, self respect, and inside voices.  

I’ve heard the question “What do you see in him?” with every guy I’ve dated until now.  
I like to believe that I’m growing out of my pattern.  

I’m confused still to this day about the Musician.  I don’t know what I was doing there.  I don’t know if it was in pattern or if not.  An exception to my “I don’t date friends” rule.  Our friendship and relationship had this underlying resentment on both ends.  The only difference is that he was on eggshells with me and I was not with him.  There was nothing I hid and everything he did.  I guess that set the stage for what happened with my ex.  

Was “Adelaide” really necessary?
Really?

My boyfriend can start reading again.

You walk on your toes for two years you’re going to be exhausted.  So when you meet the sad eyed boy with silly hair and gorgeous bone structure you won’t put on the act.  You won’t be loud, you won’t laugh obnoxiously, you won’t touch people you don’t know and you won’t look at him the right way.
Okay maybe just a little you’ll do the last part because he’s super cute and he’s flirted with you over the internet for the last three years, and the blatant look at your chest shows he’d be fair game. 
So yeah I caught myself doing it.  He looked as hungry as I didn’t know how to be.  When you don’t eat your metabolism slows down and you forget that you have an appetite.  
Until you taste.
And I still remember how he claimed me so beautiful he was having a hard time composing himself.  I actually wonder sometimes if that was true.


I tried to explain to Nathan that I would go back there because I crave intimacy and until now my idea of intimacy was the hunger and intensity that came from boys trying to get into my pants.  I never actually told him that Ryan had made the attack on my face in ways I hadn’t experienced.  I’d been handled by attractive boys before, but they were too shallow or too mind numbing or too untouchable in the wrong way.  
Here was a cute smile on top of the balls to come onto me along with a history of conversations I looked forward too.  A few things in common, similar demeanor. 

What am I speaking of again?
Intimacy.  What I’ve learned.  
I’ve been writing for an hour.  Kind of lost my train of thought.  Ah.
It’s been a struggle to let the arms down.  He makes me a fierce kind of nervous.  I still shake when he touches me sometimes.  I don’t know how to say certain things or let him help.  I lash out when I’m drunk because the liquor lets the demons out and glass castles break easy.  I really wish he hadn’t told me about the best sex he’d ever had.  But we were only friends and I was insistent that we wouldn’t ever sleep together.  Insecurities aren’t attractive and I’ve got more than I’d like, but unfortunately I’m not Athena.
For the record, I’m not threatened by his ex, I was however threatened by the risk of his feelings for her returning.  That’s an issue past.  But I never iterated on what upset me, which I should have, but the Antagonist had her fingernails in my trachea.  
I felt our relationship shift with that conversation.  I didn’t like her being existent, and he didn’t like hearing about my ex.  So when we pushed past our pasts and put them away I felt I was really relevant.  Our endeavor began in the pain caused by our pasts.  It was what we talked about, how we related, pain we shared and pain we helped each other move past.  To see that what we have built is more than that, feels really good.
Its heavy.  Concrete.  Its crushing and painful because of the pride I sacrifice in not putting my heart in a safe, but its not the shredding, splitting feeling.  I love the pressure, not the pulling.

But I’m not on eggshells.  I came into his presence so cold and uncaring about whether or not he liked me that I never bothered to put on the extra act.  There’s the wall I come with, but people can get on the other side of walls.  I talk to him about as much as I know how to talk to someone else about.  And then I figure out how to tell him more.  I do what I want, say what I want, love him as best I can and try to figure out how to do it better, listen to the music I like in my car, do what I want with my appearance and comfortably, I wait for him to call me.  I don’t fear his disapproval, I’m not paralyzed distant by the fear that he’ll get bored and not call.  I believe he knows me and I him to a degree of appropriate considering the time we’ve known each other.  I feel like I’m in the right place doing the right thing because I feel like I can be myself around him because he’s seen me at my worst.  I’ve cried in front of him but not because of him.  Its a lot of self discovery in the growing fundamentals of my relationship with this boy that has the kind of story you only read or watch in a really indie movie.  

I have sex with Ryan out of physical selfishness, not the search for emotional fulfillment.
I give him affection in public because I just feel like it, not because it’ll be a problem if I don’t.
I swear, scream, spit, sing well and badly, let the demons out, and speak my mind in front of him because I know if he loves me, he will love me regardless.
I hold onto him in the middle of the night because he calms the storms down so I can sleep.
I have faith in our relationship because it lasted longer than the 500 Days of Summer.
From May 22 to August, it really did feel like 500 days.  
I don’t play games to spark his interest or jealousy or anger because I genuinely appreciate who he is.
I believe he deserves me.
This is why I don’t believe I am in pattern.
Because I recognize the gravity of the baby steps I’ve been able to take in learning how to let a boy in regardless of my relationship with my father.
Maybe its because of all the therapy I experienced in the months leading up to and in the beginning of Ryan, or maybe its the right boy, or maybe its the age.

I find it easier to talk more about others than to talk about myself due to my intimacy issues.  I’m learning.
By recounting the past I find ways to speak to myself about what I’ve learned.  Someday I’ll figure out a way not to have to go through all the jargon in order to talk to myself about my issues and how I’m growing up.

Submitted by AshleyinTransit