“Why does my body ignore what my mind says?
I try to keep it intact, but I’m here in this bed.”
I was doing well at this no sex thing but it was cold and lonely. I missed the contact. I missed being taken to a different place. I missed the heat of it all. It was my ultimate distraction. My ultimate drug.
I avoided men. I rejected men that approached me. Heavens knows I do not make the brightest choices when it comes to men and it felt redundant to introduce new jerks into my life when I could always easily refer back to my spares.
The One Who Soothed Me started to have problems with his girlfriend this past summer. I slightly reveled in the
unfortunate news. Horrible…I know. But I felt that this was must needed egg on his face! A part of me resented how he completely tossed me to the side after he found the White woman of his dreams. He even told me that she was The One. Who was I? Sally Fucking Fleming?
We began to talk more and hang out again. Shortly thereafter, she broke up with him. Asides from her fear of commitment (due to some baggage), she also felt that he lacked drive and that he solely depended on their relationship for his happiness.
After the break up, things seemed to pick off right where they left off. We talked every single day and saw each other just as much. It was like old times—cozying up on the couch for hours on end and releasing our inhibitions throughout the night. It was a great distraction for me—perhaps for the both of us. We seem to thrive in unhappiness and uncertainty. It felt nice to have his undivided attention again.
A part of my attraction to him have a lot to do with our similarities. We are always in a state of constant wander, have the same insecurities and require a series of distractions to cope with our dramas. He admitted that he was getting addicted to me. He was quickly becoming my drug again too. We were getting high in different ways. It was only a matter of time before we both wanted more. He wanted to push my limits sexually. I wanted to push our limits in a
romantic different direction…
It seems like forever since I have blogged. I had plenty to say but just didn’t know how to say it. Foolishly, I kept in contact with Lawyer but didn’t see him in person. The last straw (and I really mean it this time) came nearly 2 weeks ago when he told me that Black women were only good for sex and that he would never consider dating them. A Black man had a nerve to tell me this. This hurts in a way that you could never imagine—especially when it came from someone of my own race. I would have rather been called the n-word and dangled from the highest tree by a non-Black person.
Shortly after my last post, things were ok—not perfect, but ok. I purchased a couple of self-help books on personal growth. I made a decision to go on a fast from men. I began to exercise a little more. Everything was under control. The past week or so didn’t go as planned. My mood was going up and down and I became entrapped with the hypersexuality associated with bipolar disorder. There was no way I could ever let Lawyer touch me again so I slept with Soothed and Lied instead. After the high wore off from these liaisons, I felt awful but I felt like I could not control myself. These incidences made me realize that it was time to reach out to psychiatrist and set up an appointment. I have not taken any medication since February and it was starting to show. Even my mother noticed how withdrawn, irritated and/or depressed I would be at times.
As I slowly came out of this bipolar induced slumber, I learned the power of saying no. Intrigue contacted me yesterday and told me that he wanted to start dating me again. It did not work out with the other chick or so he said. I told him that his proposal made me feel like a rebound chick. After not hearing from him for nearly a month, I’m suddenly on his radar? Please! He expressed that wasn’t the case and that maybe this was our way of rediscovering one another. After thinking about it, I felt it was not a good idea. I told him that I was not interested in dating anyone at the moment. Saying no felt like a victory to me. For once, I did not feel the need to be a people pleaser or feel bad about my decision.
Things are slowly looking up and I have to keep pressing on.