What makes us fall in love with someone? I guess that’s like the $64 million question.
S…was aloof, trying hard not to love me. He wanted to keep his distance, keep himself to himself. He slowly let me into his life, but he didn’t want to have to take care of me. In the sense of our physical connection. Emotionally, he didn’t want to feel obligated to me, to behave in any way just because of me. He didn’t like to kiss. He didn’t like to hold hands, or any other PDA’s. He made me cry, he would tell me that he didn’t want a relationship though he was in one, that he wanted to date lots of women, though he wasn’t. He is a bad boy. Sounds like an asshole right?
But when he was sweet, he was so sweet. He would take me on Sunday afternoon excursions, and on those drives, he would let me into his life. He would tell me stories, he was such a good story teller. He would take me to some pretty special, beautiful places on the water. He loved the ocean, as I did. He spent many years as an offshore fisherman.
When he wanted me, he wanted me bad. But those were the few and far between times. The times I craved, the times I stored into my memory. The times I built into a story that someday he’d love me and want me like that all the time.
It was a lie I told myself. I loved this guy. I wanted so badly to be wanted by him. He didn’t lie to me, I lied to myself. Still, I didn’t expect him to fuck the prison whore. He broke my heart in a thousand pieces, but still…he still tugs at my heartstrings.
But I won’t see him, or talk to him, for many reasons.
1. He fucked the prison whore. 2. He’ll make me cry. 3. I don’t feel like battling my own emotions.
Most importantly… because I told A, my new guy, I would not.
A, the new guy, is a good guy. He wants me with him as much as possible. He goes out of his way for me. He makes things special for me. He tells me I’m beautiful, he loves me. He tells me the men in my life who didn’t appreciate me were idiots. He holds my hand, he hugs me, he caresses my neck, puts his arm around me, whenever the mood hits, in public or private. He kisses me, all the time. He tells me his secrets, his heartache, his joys. He still loves his wife, who he lost to cancer 8 months ago, but somehow that is a good thing. It doesn’t seem to hinder his emotions now in any way.
I am trying to love him. I mean, I do…in many ways. I want to love him the way I loved S. He makes me happy…He makes me feel so special. Like I am the best thing that ever happened to him. I want to love this man. And it’s early in this relationship, early. We have time, lots of time.
The only drawback to A is that when he sells his house, he will be moving. Across country, eventually to Santa Fe. I could never follow him there. I could never live in the desert. He and I know this. I have known since day one that eventually he will be gone. But I just don’t care, right now. Because right now in this moment, he is teaching me what it is like to have someone really and truly care for me.
I wish I could get S out of my head, and my heart. Despite what he did, and what he doesn’t do, he sits there, tugging. I think I still see that lost little boy, who is just trying to make his way in the world without the unconditional love that a child so craves, and needs. S is still believing that because those people were defective and couldn’t feel love, that he doesn’t deserve it. He still doesn’t believe that’s what he is at his center, no matter who did or didn’t love him in his life.
I guess I just need time, for both things. To put S in the past. And to fully embrace A in the present. So…I’ll not contact S. I will be there with A.