And here is what I mean by that.
Let's call this (29-yr-old) boy Tiburon. The Spanish word for shark, which is what they call him out there, as he is known for his womanizing ways. I chose to hang out with T deliberately for these reasons. I didn't want a relationship or anything serious. In the beginning of last year I had attempted to have one of those and failed miserably, for I was simply still grieving over J, who I lost in 2013.
T was perfect. He was honest, funny, and charming. And he danced with a special kick in his step.
In the summer, I took a break from him, because I noticed that I began to get emotionally involved despite the fact that we were in a completely open arrangement. I'm one of those people who runs away when they feel vulnerable (i.e. develop feelings for someone).
T stayed away but kept reaching out for months asking to get together. I finally gave in on my birthday. I was alone and thought, foolishly, that I could keep it at coffee and would be able to resist him otherwise. From that day on (back in October), he came over almost every single day. It was beautiful. We never fought - because we weren't in a relationship and made no claims over one another. It was nothing but positivity and carefree evenings together, followed by nights in each other's embrace.
There were a few strange elements - for example, Mr. Player who used to come over for nothing but sex in the beginning suddenly didn't want to have any at all for long stretches of time. He also used to kiss much more than he then did when we saw each other daily. But, somehow, our intimacy still grew stronger despite this lack of physical action.
By the end of the year - around Christmas - he had an emotional breakdown. And, I don't mean that in the traditional sense of the word. I mean, this boy, who never let me in emotionally (i.e. we never talked about us ... and especially not about what he was feeling), suddenly opened up to me big time. It could all have been the liquor talking. Or the smoke or whatever. But, what he said, he told me while holding both my hands with tears streaming down his face. He said that I was perfect, that he didn't deserve me, that he can't give me what I want (he may have come to the conclusion that I want a baby - my fault), but that he can't even go with other girls anymore because he feels guilty. Now, if that isn't honesty then I don't understand this world. But, the things he did say to me were later identified as three red flags in identifying a man who is about to run. (I have learned this because I spent weeks watching dating advice videos after we split - trying to [a] understand what just happened and [b] get the F over this pain I felt over the loss of a relationship that wasn't even officially a relationship!
Anyway, so - naturally, the baring of his innermost thoughts suddenly created feelings on my end. Or, should we say, revealed them, for I was not aware that I felt this way, at all. Two days later, my jealousy had become so intense that I told him this isn't working and cut myself out of the equation. Because, here I was, falling for a total player. Danger! Danger! So, I ran because I was afraid of getting hurt down the road. What I did instead, of course, was hurt myself (and maybe him?) prematurely and I totally didn't anticipate how badly it would affect me. How could I be this emotionally touched by someone who barely wanted to sleep with me?
T obeyed my wishes without a fight. A fight, I wish maybe he would have taken up. But, I guess, the lack thereof should be a testament on its own about the true depth of his feelings for me. Maybe he was just not that into me and whatever he said, he said because he wasn't sober.
But - whatever it may be - the separation was an agonizing struggle for me. To make matters worse, he had another chick in like a minute, something he didn't feel the need to be discreet about as he posted picture after picture of her on his social media feeds, which brings me to the conclusion that this may be more than just one of his many alternatingly used girls. I still see them together. Looks like he may actually like this one more than anyone else. Or, maybe he saw what a nice relationship could be when we were together and finally opened himself up to the real thing again. That thought feels better on the ego, so I'll go with that. Alas, it doesn't make the sadness any less intense.
What did take away some of my melancholy and obsession about this (or maybe not, since I am now writing about it) was a nearly spiritual experience I had last Friday. And this is why I am actually here. To document this strange revelation.
So ... this whole past week had been a struggle. More so than usual did I obsess about T, and then, simultaneously, spent time upset with myself that I was still m-f-in' thinking about him. It made NO sense! Why? He clearly had moved on. He clearly was never into me. We clearly had no future (for I have no interest in being with a self-involved player and yet another man who doesn't know he has a substance abuse problem.)
By Friday, after working until 1 a.m., until I literally couldn't look at the computer anymore, I stood there in my office room frustrated that I went right back from work focus to being sad about T. I ordered myself to stop thinking and decided to just relax, listen to music, and smoke (by myself, which is something I never really do but I didn't want to talk any of my friends' ear off about T for yet another evening). As I sat there, the music's beat synchronizing to my heart, looking out the window, I noticed from the corner of my eye that a picture of my kids had fallen over on the shelf over my desk. I decided to get up and fix it and when I did, I noticed, that it had revealed my copy of the Qu'ran standing on the shelf. It was a copy that my ex-husband had brought into the house more than a decade ago and I had never actually opened it. I was raised Muslim, but I'm just not a religious person anymore. I believe in God (in an abstract way) and even in guardian angels (and that is a whole other story), but I don't really want to have anything to do with organized religion anymore. I believe it has its benefits but, I feel, mostly, it divides people when it should bring everyone together. ... Anyway ... this experience, even though it was religious .. ironically .. did bring all my friends of different beliefs together.. but let me not jump ahead of myself.
So - there it was ... this old, heavy translation of the Qu'ran. "This seems like a message", I thought to myself as I looked at all the other propped pictures on the shelf standing right were they were before. I dismissed it and returned to my futon to sit down. "Yea, but I don't want to read any heavy religious texts right now. ... I don't want to run into anything sexist that's gonna upset me .. I just don't want to ruin my high here." ... S! You listen when you're being spoken to. ... "Yea, but, I have my period anyway, and I'm not supposed to touch the Qu'ran on my period." (Something that I had learned when I was a kid and that kind of stuck. Like the not eating pork thing. Not religious anymore, just ingrained behavior.) ... -- Lame excuse. .. But, anyway, ... in case you haven't noticed ... you may be on your period - BUT - you have not bled ONE drop today all day. ... so, what is your excuse now?
I decided to end my inner soliloquy, for I began to feel guilty, and got back up to retrieve the book from the shelf. I sat down and opened it to a random page, starting to read in the middle of the page, and - I kid you not - this is what it said:
A direct response to my agony over how this didn't make sense but then again, maybe I had really fallen for him?! I was about to completely lose my way when this kinda set me straight.
T is not real love. It is all about self-indulgence. It is all about me, not him.
T managed to bring light into my life and make me forget, for just a moment, that there is a giant void left by J's death. T brought light-heartedness and hope back to me. He wasn't meant to stay and me now finding myself convinced that I must love him because I can't get over him, is a false conclusion.
I shared this passage with a few girlfriends and each one of them was able to relate to it in a different way as it applied to their situation, which made me think about how beautiful (but also dangerous then) it is what one can do with religious texts. Beautiful because it can be so versatile in its interpretation as to fit many different situations in life; dangerous because we all know what people throughout history have done with religious texts (interpreting them to their advantage). Let me not get started on this, because just the thought of this makes me upset. Extremist groups in the Middle East being some of the worst examples for this abuse of a guidance book that is meant to help people live better lives. And all in order to serve their own selfish desires. Ok, must stop now before I start an unrelated rant.
