Sunday, November 06, 2005

The Uncomfortability of Something New

I have been dating a boy for a week.

We met months ago, but it took him months to finally make his move. Friday night my friends and I ran into him, yet again. But this time, he called me before my head hit the pillow and talked me to sleep. The next day he called me and asked me out to dinner. By Sunday he was texting me ten times a day with funny thoughts. By the time I slid onto his lap on Halloween night, my fighter pilot suit was wet with the thought of the steamy make-out session we would have later. The texts continued into Wednesday afternoon. “When can I see you?” they repeated.

Then we slept together.

The next day he called to tell me his schedule was going to be insane for the next two weeks and he wasn’t sure when he was going to get to see me.

“Are you sick of me already?”

“Don’t be silly.”

By Saturday, the texts sloughed off, the phone calls lessened. The earnest “When can I see you?” changed to “Well, do you still want to get together?”

Did I let him down in some way, or was his interest purely sexual; and once satisfied, died out? As much as I want to hate him, has he really done anything wrong? Have I?

Maybe I should not have had sex with him. But wouldn’t that have just prolonged the inevitable? Or is this just what we tell ourselves to rationalize our behavior?

Did I really like him – or was I just attracted to his aggressiveness? I do like to be wanted. Sometimes, I like to be wanted more than I actually like the guy.

Was I imagining the spark of something real? What if I've only projected this pure and romantic ideal onto him and he's just trying to get laid? Just because I want something to be pure and romantic, doesn't make it happen.

I'm at that moment, in the start of a relationship, when you want answers but you can't have them. I thought I had them all figured out.
Boys, that is.

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