One of the habits that I’m trying to do away with is having these strings of casual relationships. I know I must sound like a broken record by now. I seem to be attracted to emotionally or romantically unavailable men and they’re somehow drawn to me.
I initially ended my sexual relationship with Text a couple of weeks ago. He told me that he wanted to make me smile and that I shouldn’t push him away. That tugged at my feeble heartstrings. He came over the next week and we had sex just minutes after he arrived. I told myself—yet again—that this would be the last time. But it wasn’t. He became my latest addiction and I wasn’t going to let it go. We were in contact more frequently and he always seemed to know the most decadent of words to say to make me pull him in closer. He made me feel so good. Nothing felt better than feeding off him.
He came over again a few days ago and I greeted him naked at the door in carnal desperation. I needed his hands and mouth to invade me. And you know the rest of the story—I also needed him to bury himself deep inside of me. Afterwards, we cuddled on the couch and he opened up to me about parts of his life that I never dare to ask. He told me about his troubled relationship with his live-in girlfriend. Yes, he has a girlfriend. I know what you all are thinking. He seemed so crushed and confused about how things changed once they moved in with each other. All I could do was listen, offer some sympathy, and rub his bare inner thigh as he spoke.
During the second round, something out of the ordinary happened. He told me to tell him that I loved him as he vigorously thrust against my quivering body. I uttered the phrase in sequences as if I were in a trance. It was such an intense moment. Tears streamed down my face. I wept. Perhaps I somehow wanted him to tell me that he loved me too but that never happened. Why would he make such an unusual request? Was he aching for his girlfriend to say, “I love you” instead? Was he imagining his girlfriend saying it instead? Were we using each other’s body to bury our unhappiness?
I talked one of my good friends about him and the incident. She in turn asked me a series of questions that hit me like a ton of bricks. I guess these questions were meant to bring me back to reality. She asked me about his intentions. She asked me if he ever said that he wanted to be in a romantic relationship with me. My response wasn’t sufficed to her or me. She asked what did I want from him. I told her that I did like him but wasn’t expecting a relationship. I also told her that I was so accustomed to being wanted sexually instead of romantically anyway. Those words broke my heart. Tears welled in my eyes. She suggested that I should stay away from him. And that I should be in a real relationship—even if it fails—because at least I would know that the person would attempt to love and care for me.
All of this has me wondering. Do I have a love addiction? Sex addiction? Is it a bit of both? All of these strings of casual relationships always leave me disappointed. I go from one to the next hoping for something different. Sometimes I feel that maybe these men will see how great I am and decide to love me instead. Other times I feel these types of relationships offer temporary relief from all the empty space that occupies and pains me. Sigh.
I’m going to quit him cold turkey. I’m going to distance myself and pretend that he doesn’t exist anymore. I’m going to be a bitch. I can’t see him anymore. If he’s having problems on the house front, he should deal with those problems instead of burying them deep inside of me with his penis. And I should stop using my vagina as a getaway. My va jay jay is not a resort! Pray for me. Send positive vibes. Sigh.