I’m scared of being whole with someone, being my own everything in front of an audience. I tell myself that rejection isn’t actually rejection, it’s just a selection process. We’re a bad match; I am not being turned away.
But it never feels like that. It feels worse than being picked last: it’s not being chosen at all. It’s exactly why dating is so brutal. Every date, every attempt is a layer of skin gone.
In therapy yesterday we ruminated on a new attitude I seem to have about men and dating, this odd, detached air where sometimes I completely forget the existence of whole men for days on days until some random thing jars my memory. Oh riiight. He exists!
And then when he renters my radar I become nervous that he’s forgotten me too. Is it a sign? If it is it can’t be a good one. Who forgets about someone??
I try to let it go, but it unnerves me, this forgetting, because when I remember I also remember how much I long for a person who’d never be able to forget me. Sometimes I think there are glimmers in the men I’m exploring (this time a batch of Steves) but then I’m afraid to even hope such a thing.
I feel twisted and blindfolded, utterly stagnant and vibrating with inertia to move, but move where??
Maybe I should masturbate and let the stars behind my lids whisper the Universe’s secrets about love and connection. Maybe I should just be brave and let the crush happen.