A 20 something, wanderer, just along for the ride. If you need more than that, ask away.Ask me anything
Nine days ago I met him. Talked for hours, exchanged numbers, and kissed. A perfect meeting. I spent two days with him on the edge of my consciousness, threatening to overtake my mind. Day three we had our date.
It was perfect. He cooked, we watched crappy movies and laughed and talked for hours. Cuddled and kissed and the perfect night came to an end. I was on cloud nine like never before. All worries, past, present and future, were of no concern.
Then two more days came and went. I couldn’t have extracted him from my mind even if I had had seven lobotomies. And I was scared. He didn’t feel the same. I did something wrong.
I went from being strong, single, I don’t need no man Meghan, to a panic stricken wreck if horrible emotions and self doubts. Then came his birthday, day 7.
I spent three hours deciding what to say. Do I text him at all, should I call? Should I ask about the date or just leave it be? Finally, I decided a simple Happy Birthday, would leave me with most of what little dignity I had left. His response? “Aww, thanks :)”
I was crushed. I knew it was the final nail in the coffin. These things happen. I should shake it off and move on. But no, I replayed every word, gesture, laugh and movement, over and over in my mind, looking for clues of where I had gone wrong.
Day 8 and I decide that it’s a good idea to text him again. Stupid and not so much at the same time. I flat out said, “I know I’m not supposed to ask this, but i’m curious, where did it go wrong?”
Hours go by, and I’m slowly descending into my own madness. I go to bar and drown out the memories and feelings with liquid libations. He responds and my hearts lifts out of the abyss and into the heavens.
He admits it was immature to not say anything, but he didn’t feel any chemistry, and wanted to be friends. Surprisingly, I was ok with this. Not the answer I wanted, but an answer all the same. So we chatted and exchanged jokes and jabs and were to the innocent bystander, the oldest of friends.
He invites me over for brownies and bad movies. I couldn’t have said no even if I wanted to. I go over and it’s the same as our date. Perfect. A comfort that I don’t even have with my own family. We cuddle up, eat and watch.
Now, here’s the problem. Everyone tells me that I’m stupid. That I’m overreacting, attaching meaning where there is none. I realize how ridiculous I am being. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be so damn angry at myself about it.
Nine days and I am completely done for. I don’t love him, that takes time and trust and depth. But I do know that I never want to spend a second away from him if I don’t have to. I have never in my life felt so confident, secure and safe as I have when I was with him. And when I’m away, my mind is a jumbled mess of feelings I can’t explain and thoughts I can’t silence. I am insecure, self conscious and overanalyzing every thing.
I am the most pessimistic person you could meet, so I know how sappy and meek and superfluous this all sounds. I need help. I’m a fucking mess, all over less than ten hours of interaction over nine days.
Every night I struggle to fall asleep. Not because I’m not tired, not because I dread the next day. I can’t fall asleep because I fear my subconscious. I hate my dreams. They show me everything I want and can’t have. Everything I’ve forgotten and ignored and hidden from myself. I dream every night visions of the life I want, the place I want to see and I wake up to a reality empty and barren compared to what I had just experienced.
WHAT THE HOLY FUCK SHONDA!!!
Nine years. Nine years and you continue to rip my heart out and stomp on it, shit on it, scrape it up and burn it.