So I Can Die Now...
Y'all are gonna start getting tired of reading my long ramblings.
As crazy as I was about Justin when this started, I didn't expect to fall in love with him.
These past couple of months have been crazy. Horrible. Whatever I can think to call them. I've found that I have to move out of my apartment. My job is soul-sucking. My band has fallen apart. The only thing I have that's been remotely good has been Justin.
And then, last month, he pulled away from me. Alot. It was tough for me. I would keep thinking about how badly I wanted to see him, but I would then remember how I'd promised to give him his space when he needed it, and I'd sit on my hands and fight every impulse I had to bother him about it. He would at the very least text me each and every day, but I had to bite through my tongue numerous times not to ask for more.
It was surprisingly lonely, having to try to get along without him. I had one day where I couldn't even go to work because I was busy crying too hard to see. I didn't drag him into it, though. Dragged my friends into it, because I couldn't make it go away on my own, but I didn't pull Justin into it at all.
To be fair, Justin never told me he didn't want to be involved, but I gleaned it from the amazing amount of distance he put between us, both physically and emotionally. I saw him twice the entire month of April, so I'd figured he was cutting off. I wasn't sure what to do about that, really. He'd told me numerous times about how he didn't want to be in a relationship and how he wanted to be single, and how he wanted ME to be single for awhile. So I tried to process it on my own.
Part of this process led me into downtown Austin, where I was trying to force myself to be open to meeting new people. And, surprise to me, I meet this guy, Shane. He's gorgeous --young DiCaprio with a beard--funny, fun to be around, and interested in me. He's younger than me by three years, but he acts for the most part like enough of an adult that I don't even notice. He's affectionate --puts his arm around my waist, hugs me in public---but he never tries to overstep his bounds with me. I realize that I like the attention, and that I'm having a blast with him. A piece of me is aware that I'm only enjoying it so much because I can't get it from Justin, but I try not to think about it, because I find that it makes me angry and causes me to feel a small pinpoint of hurt that I can't seem to ignore once I notice it.
Eventually, Shane asks me the "your place or mine" question, and I'm struck with a dilemma. I know that Justin told me to "be single." I know he's made it clear that he wants no obligations to me. Fuck, the guy hasn't even made an effort to see me in weeks, and there hasn't been any mention of him missing me or wanting to see me...but I still feel like I'm cheating on him. I wrestle with this for awhile, but I eventually decide to answer Shane with "your place."
We had sex that night, and, were it not for the fact that I've only had sex with 3 guys (Shane being #3), I'd have deemed it forgettable. He fucks like someone who understands the mechanics of sex, but hasn't played with them much. Twice, I get the feeling he isn't sure where everything even is. As soon as it's over, the thought "I miss Justin" hits me, and I immediately feel wrong. I stay, but I leave the moment I wake the following morning.
Over the next few weeks, Justin and I see each other only once, but I'm dying to tell him. I remember, though, how he told me once that he didn't want to know if I hooked up with or dated anyone besides him, so I say nothing. It's killing me not to, almost like it's pushing against my teeth and standing on my tongue, but I say nothing.
I try to console myself by telling myself that at least it was a one-time thing; Shane and I had agreed from day one that neither of us was looking for a relationship, and that staying friends was a good idea, but nothing beyond that made sense. I was fine with it.
Then, I'm searching the back of my car one day and find his hat. He's a NY Jets fan, so keeping it is out of the question. Not because I'm particularly in love with any NFL team in particular, but because I don't want Justin stopping by my apartment one day and asking about it. I think to burn it or throw it away, but I also feel like that might be sort of vitriolic, considering we don't dislike each other. So I text Shane and ask him if he wants it back. He tells me yes. This makes me a little nervous.
I talk to a couple friends about it and tell them that I really didn't want to see Shane again, that I'm conflicted about him because of Justin and I don't want to feel like I'm betraying the guy any further than I already have. My friends give me the whole "have fun! He said be single!" talk, but I still ultimately decide that I'd rather give him his shit, maybe hang out for a little, and then leave.
I dropped his stuff off on Friday. I liked that he didn't tell me to just go when I gave him his hat. He perched it on his head, asked me if I'd like pizza because he was ordering one, and then he asked me if I wanted some wine. I shrugged, figured it couldn't hurt, and said yes. I watched him pour the drinks, like a good girl, and then took my wine.
We sat. We watched basketball. Knicks at the Celtics. We cheered together and I gave him shit over his favorite team and he pretended to blame me for his team's loss. I accidentally chugged what was left of my glass of wine, misjudging what was left, and Shane laughed.
This is where things get fuzzy. I remember the room starting to spin almost immediately. I remember suddenly feeling like I needed to lie down. Walking to the bathroom became more and more difficult. I became silly, giggly. I even asked if I could have his wine, to which he gladly obliged...
It's like a movie with parts cut out of it...I remember telling Shane my stomach hurt. He got me a pillow to lie down on, and I remember thinking that was a really sweet thing to do. He kissed me, I kissed back. But then he told me he had no condoms. I never asked him if he did. I think I said "you fucking suck" but I can't remember. I remember needing him to help me to the bathroom. I remember being unable to sit or stand up on my own. I remember sex, remember thinking in the back of my mind "he's not wearing a condom. This isn't okay," but I couldn't seem to say anything about it. I remember lying on my back in the middle of his bed, wearing nothing but my bra and panties and asking, my voice slurred and the ceiling spinning, "how did my clothes get off?" To which he replied, "I took them off." Just like that. Like it was nothing.
I was back in the living room, but I don't remember how I got there, don't remember if I walked or was carried or what. But we sat on his couch while he watched TV and online videos and smoked weed. I remember that part. I remember that I couldn't even sit up on my own, that I had to lean on Shane to be able to stay up. I remember feeling nauseous a couple times but never throwing up. And then...there was a second time, but that part is even darker than the last. I only remember him pulling out when he finished and then getting something for me to wipe off with. I remember falling asleep and mumbling something about him being fun or a good guy. And then darkness.
For two days after that, I tried to piece that night together. I figured I just got really fucking drunk and it would all come back to me at one point. I talked to Justin the next day like nothing happened. But it wouldn't stop bothering me, the fact that I couldn't remember everything. The fact that the big parts --where I took off my clothes, how I got into his room, how the sex even started--is all gone. Even now, I'm trying to pick it all out and put it down and I'm still only recovering little bits.
Monday was when I finally had to admit that something wasn't right. I panicked when I realized that, according to the tracker I keep, I may have been ovulating during that time, too. I brought it up to a friend at work, and the moment she heard I'd only drank two glasses of wine, she asked me if I was drugged. I told her I didn't think so, but my stomach dropped. I looked up the symptoms and they all fit. In a panic, I called a hotline and asked the sweet lady on the other line, Elva, to tell me whether or not what I had was a big deal. Elva listened patiently and asked few questions. When she heard that I'd only drank two glasses of wine she actually stopped me and told me "that doesn't make any sense. You were assaulted."
And the ridiculous thing? The first thing I thought was that Elva was wrong. I wanted to tell her that I was sure I was fine and was just blowing it out of proportion, that I must have just suffered from all that confusion because I guzzled the last of my first glass. And then Elva said, "you're going to want to look into emergency contraception and getting tested for STD's" and I immediately started to cry.
I cried on and off throughout the day, mostly out of outrage and surprise. Stupid as it is, the first thought I had was that I was going to have to tell Justin and I didn't want him to hate me. I was sure he'd hear and leave or judge me and leave, or call me a slut and leave. And I knew that if he did that, I wouldn't want to be with someone like that, but with all that was going through my mind at that point, I didn't think I could take that.
I told Justin during my lunch break. It's, to this day, the only time I've been able to use the "r" word. And I stuttered through it really badly. As soon as I told him that part, his first words were, "I feel like I should have warned you somehow." And then he asked me how I knew Shane. I couldn't lie to him. I told him.
In hindsight, I don't know if I should have told him right then. I'm thinking I should have lied at that point and told him later or something. But I didn't, and it was too much for him at once. His rage over what Shane had done was now mixed with rage and hurt directed at me, and he was struggling--and ultimately failing--to separate the two. I learned then how much Justin really cares about me. I had no idea. He alternately attacked me and threatened Shane. He cried a little. He told me that he'd always seen the sex between us as special and he hadn't done anything since meeting me. Then he turned around and asked me how I didn't expect that Shane was going to pull something when I went over to his place and told me that he was surprised that I'd put myself in such a stupid position.
By the end of that phone call I was crying so hard everything hurt. I kept saying "I can't do this anymore. I can't do it." over and over again, and I think it shook Justin back to his senses. He tried to tell me he wasn't going anywhere and that he wouldn't just quit talking to me or turn his back on me, but at that point I was drained and I felt betrayed. I told him he was obviously angry at me and that he needed to get over that and then talk to me later. I told him I understood it was alot to be dumped on him, but that he was focusing on all the wrong things, and that I couldn't take losing him. Justin got mad at me again and told me that I seemed more worried about how he was holding up rather than how I was holding up. I shrugged and told him to just work it out however. I hung up barely able to move.
Throughout that entire conversation, I'd come so close to telling him I loved him. I kept promising him that Shane was supposed to have been a one-time thing, that he'd made me realize I didn't want anyone else, but it hadn't seemed like Justin had listened. The moment we hung up, I got a text from him, telling me he loved me. It was extremely roundabout and wordy, but I got the gist. I was still hurt and tired, though, so I responded with "ok" and somehow finished my day.
I bought Plan B and took it last night, and wound up arguing with Justin for another two hours, telling him I loved him without saying the words. He apologized to me for coming off cold and insensitive, and he told me he felt wretched for making me feel worse when something so horrendous had happened. But then he told me about how crazy it drove him imagining me doing things with someone else. I got tired of going round and round and asked to see him. To my surprise, he said yes.
I wound up going by his place and realizing it was exactly what I needed. He was normal, as if no arguments had occurred between us. He kissed me, hugged me, made me laugh. We wound up having sex, because we have no self control. I was immediately sorry, because I need to get tested for STI's still. I don't think I have any, but I couldn't forgive myself if I gave any to him. That was the only time he showed any sort of displeasure, when I mentioned that we shouldn't have done what we did. But a slight hiss was all I got.
I told him I loved him. I knew he wasn't comfortable enough to tell me the same, and I told him I wasn't looking to say it just to hear it said back. I said it because I felt it, and whether he said it or not, I knew he loved me, too. He didn't say the words back to me, but the way he kissed me directly afterwards was enough. He told me he wasn't leaving me, and that if I needed to talk about what happened to me, he would listen, that he would eventually get over the fact that Shane and I slept together initially, that he wasn't going anywhere. All of that was as good as saying the words. I needed it.
We've talked all day today and it's been normal. It's occurred to me to mention things a couple times, but I've realized I need to have that normalcy. I need to feel him love me and joke with me. I don't need to talk to him about it, because the most relaxed and normal I feel is when I'm with him. So I haven't talked to him about it. I've just been acting like nothing happened, because it's what I need, but I do know that if I need to talk to him about the rest of it, I can.
I honestly can't tell what's going on with me. I alternately feel nothing and something tickling at the back of my brain that I can't name. I keep questioning my conclusions--was I drugged? Maybe I just got drunk. Maybe I took my own clothes off. Maybe it wasn't so bad and I'm making this guy out to be bad. What if I'm talking shit about him that isn't true--and then I keep hearing my rational side reminding me that I can't remember things, that I blacked out a few times, that one glass of white wine, that TWO glasses of white wine don't do that to someone. And if I'm 100% honest, I'm terrified to ever see Shane again because I'm afraid he'd tell me something or mention something that would suddenly remind me and I'd realize I was wrong. Though I know the chances of that are slim. Too many things don't add up. I started seeing his face out of nowhere at work today. Not from that night, just in general. I started remembering the one time I consensually fucked him and I started feeling embarrassed and ashamed. When I went to Planned Parenthood today and was told that it's too early for me to be testing for anything right now, when I realized I wouldn't get that peace of mind for another week, I almost started to cry.
But then...I can talk about it. I can still have sex. I even thought of telling my parents. Shouldn't I be huddled in a corner somewhere? Am I in denial or insane or...was I just wrong about this whole thing?
I dunno...fucking 9 million words and nothing resolved. I don't know what I did to deserve all of the truly horrible things going on for me right now, but I apologize. I'm ready for it all to be good. I'm ready for the great shit to start. I'm ready to be ecstatic over life for once. I feel like I've been dealing with the build up to it for years with no payoff. I'm getting tired of waiting and I don't want to wait anymore.
I'm so tired I can barely see. Goodnight.
A
As crazy as I was about Justin when this started, I didn't expect to fall in love with him.
These past couple of months have been crazy. Horrible. Whatever I can think to call them. I've found that I have to move out of my apartment. My job is soul-sucking. My band has fallen apart. The only thing I have that's been remotely good has been Justin.
And then, last month, he pulled away from me. Alot. It was tough for me. I would keep thinking about how badly I wanted to see him, but I would then remember how I'd promised to give him his space when he needed it, and I'd sit on my hands and fight every impulse I had to bother him about it. He would at the very least text me each and every day, but I had to bite through my tongue numerous times not to ask for more.
It was surprisingly lonely, having to try to get along without him. I had one day where I couldn't even go to work because I was busy crying too hard to see. I didn't drag him into it, though. Dragged my friends into it, because I couldn't make it go away on my own, but I didn't pull Justin into it at all.
To be fair, Justin never told me he didn't want to be involved, but I gleaned it from the amazing amount of distance he put between us, both physically and emotionally. I saw him twice the entire month of April, so I'd figured he was cutting off. I wasn't sure what to do about that, really. He'd told me numerous times about how he didn't want to be in a relationship and how he wanted to be single, and how he wanted ME to be single for awhile. So I tried to process it on my own.
Part of this process led me into downtown Austin, where I was trying to force myself to be open to meeting new people. And, surprise to me, I meet this guy, Shane. He's gorgeous --young DiCaprio with a beard--funny, fun to be around, and interested in me. He's younger than me by three years, but he acts for the most part like enough of an adult that I don't even notice. He's affectionate --puts his arm around my waist, hugs me in public---but he never tries to overstep his bounds with me. I realize that I like the attention, and that I'm having a blast with him. A piece of me is aware that I'm only enjoying it so much because I can't get it from Justin, but I try not to think about it, because I find that it makes me angry and causes me to feel a small pinpoint of hurt that I can't seem to ignore once I notice it.
Eventually, Shane asks me the "your place or mine" question, and I'm struck with a dilemma. I know that Justin told me to "be single." I know he's made it clear that he wants no obligations to me. Fuck, the guy hasn't even made an effort to see me in weeks, and there hasn't been any mention of him missing me or wanting to see me...but I still feel like I'm cheating on him. I wrestle with this for awhile, but I eventually decide to answer Shane with "your place."
We had sex that night, and, were it not for the fact that I've only had sex with 3 guys (Shane being #3), I'd have deemed it forgettable. He fucks like someone who understands the mechanics of sex, but hasn't played with them much. Twice, I get the feeling he isn't sure where everything even is. As soon as it's over, the thought "I miss Justin" hits me, and I immediately feel wrong. I stay, but I leave the moment I wake the following morning.
Over the next few weeks, Justin and I see each other only once, but I'm dying to tell him. I remember, though, how he told me once that he didn't want to know if I hooked up with or dated anyone besides him, so I say nothing. It's killing me not to, almost like it's pushing against my teeth and standing on my tongue, but I say nothing.
I try to console myself by telling myself that at least it was a one-time thing; Shane and I had agreed from day one that neither of us was looking for a relationship, and that staying friends was a good idea, but nothing beyond that made sense. I was fine with it.
Then, I'm searching the back of my car one day and find his hat. He's a NY Jets fan, so keeping it is out of the question. Not because I'm particularly in love with any NFL team in particular, but because I don't want Justin stopping by my apartment one day and asking about it. I think to burn it or throw it away, but I also feel like that might be sort of vitriolic, considering we don't dislike each other. So I text Shane and ask him if he wants it back. He tells me yes. This makes me a little nervous.
I talk to a couple friends about it and tell them that I really didn't want to see Shane again, that I'm conflicted about him because of Justin and I don't want to feel like I'm betraying the guy any further than I already have. My friends give me the whole "have fun! He said be single!" talk, but I still ultimately decide that I'd rather give him his shit, maybe hang out for a little, and then leave.
I dropped his stuff off on Friday. I liked that he didn't tell me to just go when I gave him his hat. He perched it on his head, asked me if I'd like pizza because he was ordering one, and then he asked me if I wanted some wine. I shrugged, figured it couldn't hurt, and said yes. I watched him pour the drinks, like a good girl, and then took my wine.
We sat. We watched basketball. Knicks at the Celtics. We cheered together and I gave him shit over his favorite team and he pretended to blame me for his team's loss. I accidentally chugged what was left of my glass of wine, misjudging what was left, and Shane laughed.
This is where things get fuzzy. I remember the room starting to spin almost immediately. I remember suddenly feeling like I needed to lie down. Walking to the bathroom became more and more difficult. I became silly, giggly. I even asked if I could have his wine, to which he gladly obliged...
It's like a movie with parts cut out of it...I remember telling Shane my stomach hurt. He got me a pillow to lie down on, and I remember thinking that was a really sweet thing to do. He kissed me, I kissed back. But then he told me he had no condoms. I never asked him if he did. I think I said "you fucking suck" but I can't remember. I remember needing him to help me to the bathroom. I remember being unable to sit or stand up on my own. I remember sex, remember thinking in the back of my mind "he's not wearing a condom. This isn't okay," but I couldn't seem to say anything about it. I remember lying on my back in the middle of his bed, wearing nothing but my bra and panties and asking, my voice slurred and the ceiling spinning, "how did my clothes get off?" To which he replied, "I took them off." Just like that. Like it was nothing.
I was back in the living room, but I don't remember how I got there, don't remember if I walked or was carried or what. But we sat on his couch while he watched TV and online videos and smoked weed. I remember that part. I remember that I couldn't even sit up on my own, that I had to lean on Shane to be able to stay up. I remember feeling nauseous a couple times but never throwing up. And then...there was a second time, but that part is even darker than the last. I only remember him pulling out when he finished and then getting something for me to wipe off with. I remember falling asleep and mumbling something about him being fun or a good guy. And then darkness.
For two days after that, I tried to piece that night together. I figured I just got really fucking drunk and it would all come back to me at one point. I talked to Justin the next day like nothing happened. But it wouldn't stop bothering me, the fact that I couldn't remember everything. The fact that the big parts --where I took off my clothes, how I got into his room, how the sex even started--is all gone. Even now, I'm trying to pick it all out and put it down and I'm still only recovering little bits.
Monday was when I finally had to admit that something wasn't right. I panicked when I realized that, according to the tracker I keep, I may have been ovulating during that time, too. I brought it up to a friend at work, and the moment she heard I'd only drank two glasses of wine, she asked me if I was drugged. I told her I didn't think so, but my stomach dropped. I looked up the symptoms and they all fit. In a panic, I called a hotline and asked the sweet lady on the other line, Elva, to tell me whether or not what I had was a big deal. Elva listened patiently and asked few questions. When she heard that I'd only drank two glasses of wine she actually stopped me and told me "that doesn't make any sense. You were assaulted."
And the ridiculous thing? The first thing I thought was that Elva was wrong. I wanted to tell her that I was sure I was fine and was just blowing it out of proportion, that I must have just suffered from all that confusion because I guzzled the last of my first glass. And then Elva said, "you're going to want to look into emergency contraception and getting tested for STD's" and I immediately started to cry.
I cried on and off throughout the day, mostly out of outrage and surprise. Stupid as it is, the first thought I had was that I was going to have to tell Justin and I didn't want him to hate me. I was sure he'd hear and leave or judge me and leave, or call me a slut and leave. And I knew that if he did that, I wouldn't want to be with someone like that, but with all that was going through my mind at that point, I didn't think I could take that.
I told Justin during my lunch break. It's, to this day, the only time I've been able to use the "r" word. And I stuttered through it really badly. As soon as I told him that part, his first words were, "I feel like I should have warned you somehow." And then he asked me how I knew Shane. I couldn't lie to him. I told him.
In hindsight, I don't know if I should have told him right then. I'm thinking I should have lied at that point and told him later or something. But I didn't, and it was too much for him at once. His rage over what Shane had done was now mixed with rage and hurt directed at me, and he was struggling--and ultimately failing--to separate the two. I learned then how much Justin really cares about me. I had no idea. He alternately attacked me and threatened Shane. He cried a little. He told me that he'd always seen the sex between us as special and he hadn't done anything since meeting me. Then he turned around and asked me how I didn't expect that Shane was going to pull something when I went over to his place and told me that he was surprised that I'd put myself in such a stupid position.
By the end of that phone call I was crying so hard everything hurt. I kept saying "I can't do this anymore. I can't do it." over and over again, and I think it shook Justin back to his senses. He tried to tell me he wasn't going anywhere and that he wouldn't just quit talking to me or turn his back on me, but at that point I was drained and I felt betrayed. I told him he was obviously angry at me and that he needed to get over that and then talk to me later. I told him I understood it was alot to be dumped on him, but that he was focusing on all the wrong things, and that I couldn't take losing him. Justin got mad at me again and told me that I seemed more worried about how he was holding up rather than how I was holding up. I shrugged and told him to just work it out however. I hung up barely able to move.
Throughout that entire conversation, I'd come so close to telling him I loved him. I kept promising him that Shane was supposed to have been a one-time thing, that he'd made me realize I didn't want anyone else, but it hadn't seemed like Justin had listened. The moment we hung up, I got a text from him, telling me he loved me. It was extremely roundabout and wordy, but I got the gist. I was still hurt and tired, though, so I responded with "ok" and somehow finished my day.
I bought Plan B and took it last night, and wound up arguing with Justin for another two hours, telling him I loved him without saying the words. He apologized to me for coming off cold and insensitive, and he told me he felt wretched for making me feel worse when something so horrendous had happened. But then he told me about how crazy it drove him imagining me doing things with someone else. I got tired of going round and round and asked to see him. To my surprise, he said yes.
I wound up going by his place and realizing it was exactly what I needed. He was normal, as if no arguments had occurred between us. He kissed me, hugged me, made me laugh. We wound up having sex, because we have no self control. I was immediately sorry, because I need to get tested for STI's still. I don't think I have any, but I couldn't forgive myself if I gave any to him. That was the only time he showed any sort of displeasure, when I mentioned that we shouldn't have done what we did. But a slight hiss was all I got.
I told him I loved him. I knew he wasn't comfortable enough to tell me the same, and I told him I wasn't looking to say it just to hear it said back. I said it because I felt it, and whether he said it or not, I knew he loved me, too. He didn't say the words back to me, but the way he kissed me directly afterwards was enough. He told me he wasn't leaving me, and that if I needed to talk about what happened to me, he would listen, that he would eventually get over the fact that Shane and I slept together initially, that he wasn't going anywhere. All of that was as good as saying the words. I needed it.
We've talked all day today and it's been normal. It's occurred to me to mention things a couple times, but I've realized I need to have that normalcy. I need to feel him love me and joke with me. I don't need to talk to him about it, because the most relaxed and normal I feel is when I'm with him. So I haven't talked to him about it. I've just been acting like nothing happened, because it's what I need, but I do know that if I need to talk to him about the rest of it, I can.
I honestly can't tell what's going on with me. I alternately feel nothing and something tickling at the back of my brain that I can't name. I keep questioning my conclusions--was I drugged? Maybe I just got drunk. Maybe I took my own clothes off. Maybe it wasn't so bad and I'm making this guy out to be bad. What if I'm talking shit about him that isn't true--and then I keep hearing my rational side reminding me that I can't remember things, that I blacked out a few times, that one glass of white wine, that TWO glasses of white wine don't do that to someone. And if I'm 100% honest, I'm terrified to ever see Shane again because I'm afraid he'd tell me something or mention something that would suddenly remind me and I'd realize I was wrong. Though I know the chances of that are slim. Too many things don't add up. I started seeing his face out of nowhere at work today. Not from that night, just in general. I started remembering the one time I consensually fucked him and I started feeling embarrassed and ashamed. When I went to Planned Parenthood today and was told that it's too early for me to be testing for anything right now, when I realized I wouldn't get that peace of mind for another week, I almost started to cry.
But then...I can talk about it. I can still have sex. I even thought of telling my parents. Shouldn't I be huddled in a corner somewhere? Am I in denial or insane or...was I just wrong about this whole thing?
I dunno...fucking 9 million words and nothing resolved. I don't know what I did to deserve all of the truly horrible things going on for me right now, but I apologize. I'm ready for it all to be good. I'm ready for the great shit to start. I'm ready to be ecstatic over life for once. I feel like I've been dealing with the build up to it for years with no payoff. I'm getting tired of waiting and I don't want to wait anymore.
I'm so tired I can barely see. Goodnight.
A