Too Many Feelings

I’ll be spending a few days at my ex’s, Clay’s, apartment this week. My friend from out of state is flying in, and she’s allergic to cats and here at my parents, we have three. Plus, he’d like some time with his baby girl. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I want to see him.

Ever since I had my baby girl, I’ve wanted to fix us so strongly. I know I don’t love him; I know we simply cannot work out while he’s drinking; I know that I don’t even want to be in a committed relationship with him. But for some strange reason, I really, really just want to be with him.

Even if he quit drinking, I wouldn’t be happy in a committed relationship with him at this point in my life. Maybe it makes me slutty, but I still want to have sex with other people. I want to experience a threesome. I want to explore sex so much more. And honestly, he doesn’t.

I had to bug him for weeks to go to a sex shop with me. I have to demand we try a different position.

He’s comfortable with himself sexually, he’s open to talking and watching porn and masturbating with me. But, for some reason when it comes to actually trying different things, he just doesn’t. Which is super frustrating, because at the beginning of us, he told me that by the time he’s done with me, I’ll be super experienced (because he’s been with a lot of women, I’ve seen his list, and knows like alll the positions).

Ok, great. Soo…when are you going to teach me these new positions??

As for a threesome…He says only if it’s with another girl. I said sure, but on the condition we later do it with another guy. Maybe porn has glamorized it, but I like the idea of two guys and me…He flat out refused, saying he couldn’t watch another guy fuck me.

So I asked, at a different time, if we could do an open relationship. Where we’d get one free pass a month to fuck someone else. He liked it for himself, but said no because it meant agreeing for me as well. Although he did say I was the only person he cared to sleep with.

I don’t want to go whoring around, but I do want to sleep with others. I want sex to be exciting, and more than just a release. I mean, I can get a release all on my own.

I want sex to be thrilling. Like the night with John Doe, when he said he’s going to strap me down and I laughed, not knowing he was serious. Feeling him pin my body down as I struggled beneath him, his arm stretching for the under the mattress strap. Being pinned down, followed by straps around my wrists was beyond hot.

And it only happened once.

Sex should be more than a release. No, every single time won’t be hot and exciting; it’ll be quick and fulfilling. But when nothing changes in over a year…well, yeah. I reached the point, I only had sex with Clay just because he wanted to. I literally had no desire for it anymore- at least sex with him.

So these feelings of wanting to be with him- they’ll pass. Probably within the first day at his apartment.

And He’s Married

It’s been a tough few days. Thursday it finally happened, the thing I knew was coming but dreading. I honestly was not expecting it to hit me as hard as it did.

John Doe got married.

I actually almost cried. If I hadn’t been at work upon learning of his marriage that day, I probably would have cried a little, before getting a grip. Instead, I just laughed at everything. I was so upset, and to try and not cry, laughing was the only other thing.

I fucking knew he would marry this girl- the girl he left me for. When they had their first baby boy in 2013, I was upset- they got pregnant within six months of him “leaving” me.

They had their second baby boy almost two months ago now. I didn’t know they were pregnant again, until like a month before she was due. I wasn’t really upset this time, just surprised. Their first boy had only just turned a year old, and now, a newborn.

It wasn’t like I was holding onto hope of us ever getting back together. I’ve known it was over since I saw the first picture of them together a month after the last time I saw him.

But he’s married now.

It seems so much more…final. I don’t know.

I felt like an idiot. I still do, because when I think about it, it still hurts. I still feel so sad, heartbroken.

I blame my emotional reaction on my pregnancy hormones. And on the fact I’ve been depressed the past couple of weeks. I go through bouts of depression fairly often it seems, and considering this month is the month my brother would have turned 8, but also the same month he died 8 years ago, it’s been rough.

That paragraph could probably use a rewrite, but screw it.

He’s finally married. And I’m still trying to convince myself that no matter what I did or said would have kept him. We just weren’t meant to be.

Will I ever find someone who makes me feel like he did, or is the feeling of first love never copied again?

Sometimes I’m in my Feelings

I try to push all thoughts of John Doe from my mind. I wish I could burn his memory as quickly I could the pages his name enters the pages of my personal journals. Not that I’m going to rip up and burn my journals- I’d die if anyone read them, but I like being able to go back and read what was in my head.

I haven’t checked his Facebook page in over a year. I even spent a few months not even getting on Facebook just to avoid anything his girlfriend tagged him in. He isn’t really a poster, and when he does post it’s like once every five months. But she tags him a lot-ish. And sometimes it cuts right through me, seeing a picture of them together, a picture of their son they got pregnant with within 6 months of his ditching me, her exclaiming her feelings of love, tagging him in a picture of her/their 6-now-7-year-old- yeah, you get it.

So, I basically quit Facebook. It didn’t help push out the random almost daily thoughts of him. I don’t dwell on them. I don’t sit there and daydream about him. It’s been two fucking years since we last talked via text, even longer since I last saw him. Why do I still think of him all the fucking time?

People say if you really love someone, try to get them back. I can’t do that. Even if I truly love him. I can’t try to get him back. I don’t even know how. I’m okay with accepting I may always love him. But can I please stop thinking of him??

Today was his birthday. I almost posted “happy birthday” on his Facebook wall…thought of it, thought of sending it as a message. But I couldn’t bring myself to it. Because the idea of him not liking my silly birthday wish on his wall would hurt (he was liking everyone’s comment), and the idea of seeing he read my message, and didn’t respond with a stupid “thanks” would also hurt.

So I said nothing. Just fucking thought of him all damn day. And that’s probably best. I know my friends would say that.

His girlfriend wrote this fucking cheesy message on his wall. Something about “happy birthday future gorgeous husband! I am so happy for today and being able to grow older with you” blah blah, ending with a bunch of hearts and an “I love you.”

Yes, he is gorgeous. But future husband? Damn it, bitch. Or maybe you’re not a bitch. But damn it. Why her?

I feel like such a selfish person. She deserves to be happy and have what she wants. I mean, she was single mom for a long time, and that’s not easy.

But why did she have to find her happiness with him?

Why couldn’t he find his happiness with me?

And why does it still fucking bother me? Is it pregnancy making me more emotional?

Why do I still care? And where do I go from here?

My Online Dating Story

I’ve honestly only met one person from an online site. It was through MeetMe, and he was actually pretty cool- at first. I’m reserved initially, but we hit it off, and soon we were bantering back and forth through text.

He also lived near my parents (where I grew up) and we met up in my hometown. My mom asked me who I was going to go see, and I felt some embarrassment about telling her how I met him. I don’t know about others, but for me, it felt desperate going online to meet guys.

It still isn’t me, and despite the fact it seems every guy I run into, knows each other, I can’t seem to go back to it. Not that I’m currently looking for a new relationship being pregnant, though.

Okay, back to the story.

We went to a pool hall, and had a few drinks, and played a few games. It was a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed his company. Unfortunately, I felt no spark. He was really fun, and made me feel comfortable, but there just wasn’t any attraction.

We hung out a few more times, and one night we go back to his place to watch movies. Mind you, I was still innocent (not virgin innocent, I guess inexperienced is the right word). I hadn’t yet learned when a guy invites you to his house for a movie, it’s actually ‘let’s go back to my place and have sex’.

So we’re watching a movie, and one thing went to another, and we’re kissing. He was the first guy I kissed after John Doe, and seriously, all I could hear was John telling me I don’t want to be a slut.

He rolled on top of me, trying to take things further.

I felt pinned. I sorta freaked out. I stopped kissing him and told him to stop.

And he did.

He apologized. Said he respected me.

We hung out a few more times.

He told my sister’s boyfriend I came onto him. I found that out later, and I was irate. By that point, we had lost contact. And I’m glad.

I’ve talked to many guys on dating sites. I just never met anymore. I was suppose to meet up with this one guy, but he kept cancelling, and I always wondered why. Like, he’d cancel, but still hit me up. I get cancelling, and losing contact, but he didn’t. It was weird. Whatever.

Third One Night Stand

I’ve actually mentioned it before.

My third one night stand was with the guy who had a fat dick and called me a virgin.

It was March, 2013, only a few long months since John Doe left me (why does everything go back to him? Fuck.). I was at the bar I was going to every weekend- and that makes me realize all three guys I hooked up with were from meeting them at that bar. And to think I still go there… Thankfully, only one randomly still goes.

Anyways. I was sitting at the bar, drinking whatever it was I drank back then, and he kept making eye contact with me. When he left, he slid me his name and number, and I was drunk-ish, and when the bar closed I really didn’t feel like going home. So against my better judgment, I texted him. And went over.

He met me outside, and I must have been drunker than I realized because I legit do not remember where the fuck I went. We go inside, and sit awkwardly on the couch, just kinda talking. And that’s when I knew it was mistake.

I wasn’t drunk enough. At all.

His voice was annoying, he laughed way too much for a guy (I guess that sounds rude, but for real, he laughed at everything! If I said it, he laughed, if he said it, he laughed.). He took off his hat and he was just…ugly.

I went ahead and went with the kissing.

Again, I wasn’t nearly drunk enough.

His kisses were wet, slobbery. He was eating my face.

Somehow I still stayed. I let myself be taken to the bedroom. He pushed me down, and pushed my legs up, and he went down on me. And okay, I won’t lie. He was fucking awesome. The best oral sex I’ve ever had. Granted, my experience with it from John Doe left me feeling pretty amazing too, but I was so damn shy that it left me feeling awkward, too, and I didn’t enjoy it as much as I could have.

And then besides my boyfriend now, I haven’t had much experience with a guy going down on me.

After I got off, he asked if I’d suck his dick. I declined. I felt like maybe I shouldn’t, but on the other hand, I so didn’t want to be pressured either, and do what I didn’t want. Last time I sucked a random guy’s penis, I felt horrible. I felt like such the slut. I made a promise to myself I wouldn’t do that again, and so I refused even when he begged.

I then told him he needed a condom. He all pretended he knew that, and was going to use one. But even as he put it on, he’s complaining about how it doesn’t feel as good, and he won’t get off, blah blah.

Then he went in, and his dick was just so fat. So short. It hurt, and he saw me flinch, so he’s like “omg, you’re a virgin!”

That pissed me off, although I’m not sure why. “No, I’m not.”

That’s when he started laughing, all proud of his fat, stubby penis. “I guess the past guy must have been really small.”

Excuse me? The past “guy”? I had been with more than one (again, not sure why I cared…), and secondly, I had loved John’s penis. It was perfect.

I was done. I got up, and started dressing. He asked if I’d wanna do it again, and I’m just like, yeah…I don’t think so.

For months, he’d keep texting me, asking me to hook up. I told him I had a boyfriend (I met him a month later). He still asked. He’d see me at bars, and just fucking stare.

Finally, he’s stopped. And I haven’t seen him in awhile. But damn.

Celebrity Crushes

Don’t we all got one?

Post about three celebrity crushes.

So, I don’t actually get into celebrities. Like I don’t follow their lives in check-out lanes magazines. I don’t get obsessed. But I guess there are a few who I like just a little more than the rest…

I will actually do more than three…but since I failed at the “30 facts about me” I will allow myself to go over three.

Jennifer Lawrence

This woman is gorgeous. And, no matter her hair style- she is still so fucking hot. I admit, if she’s in a movie, I will watch it. Just for her. I don’t even care what the movie is about. As for those nude pictures? Who cares. I didn’t go searching for them, but I find it stupid how people say she deserved it or some shit.

Jensen Ackles

Just look at him. Omg. I love him. I got into Supernatural because of him, although now I watch it because it’s just fucking awesome. But he is super hot. And I even enjoyed his character in Smallville.

Justin Hartley

Oh, Oliver…I’ve only seen him in Smallville but by golly, I loved him. Look at that face…Yes, he is hot. And sexy. And would it be creepy or weird or wrong or nothing negative if I said I would totally agree to a threesome with him and Jensen? Because I would.

Channing Tatum

Ok, so I’ll admit I did watch Magic Mike just for him. He is pretty damn hot. And I loved him in Step Up.

And, as a bonus, but doesn’t really count because he died. But before that, he was my number 1.

Paul Walker

I absolutely loved his role in the Fast and Furious movies. I loved him in any movie I seen him in. And even though I had John Doe always telling me he’s a horrible actor, I didn’t even care. He didn’t even want to watch a movie if Paul Walker was in it, but I demanded we do anyway.

Ashton Kutcher is pretty hot…and I always had a girl crush on Allison Mack (she was Chloe in Smallville). And there ya have it…my celebrity crushes.

First Love

So many feelings.

Discuss your first love.

I feel like I’ve done this before. But there’s always a different angle to take on this, right? Instead of pondering on how my first love was fucked up, I can discuss it in a different light.

Like how he made me feel sexy. Made me feel desirable. How he simultaneously built up my self-esteem, self-confidence, and torn it down. Is that possible? I guess so. Because that’s what he did to me.

I was head over feet. I was wrapped around his finger.

There’s nothing like a first love. Your heart has never been broken, so you give yourself away freely. No holding back, no second-guessing. Well, yeah, there’s second-guessing, but it’s the not same second-guessing as it is once your heart has been broken.

It’s more of a second-guessing of, well, I don’t know. That might vary for person to person. For me, it was second-guessing on if I was ready to go. But then I had no choice, I was already gone.

I was so gone. I would do anything for him.

I realize now how fucked up my first love was. How one-sided it was. Actually even back then, I knew it was one-sided, but I swear that man had some sort of spell over me.

But it was fun. And heart-breaking. I was in love, and he wasn’t. But those little texts he’d send, “I can’t sleep, I miss you” melted my heart.

My first love taught me a lot. My first love opened my eyes to a lot. My first love torn off my rose-shaded glasses. And I’m torn trying to decide if that’s a good or bad thing. Yeah, one can’t live in a fantasy world forever, but I’m not sure it’s healthy to have everything completely ripped from you at once. It leaves you reeling, spinning- questioning everything, your own sanity.

Or maybe I was just never as strong as I thought.

First love. Oh the feelings. Ain’t nothing like it. And that first heartbreak? Nothing like it either.

They Say Confession is Good for the Soul

Why is that anyway?

Like how does confessing make you feel better? I mean, yeah, when I get shit out in the open I do feel some sense of relief. Are we like hardwired to just automatically feel better once we confess?

Whatever. I have two things to say here, and omg, I just want to do something!

First one!

About a month ago, I was simply searching on Plenty of Fish. I wanted to see if any hot guys existed on said site, make joining up worth it. There I am, scrolling through guy after guy after guy, when boom there is John’s fucking handsome face! I just stopped and stared.

What the fuck?! my mind screamed. Why is on here? And omg, why is he saying “wants to date but nothing serious”? Ok, no I get that, but heavens look, “relationship: single.” Facebook still says you’re in a relationship with the bitch you left me for.

I could understand if it was an old account, but it said “last active in the last 30 days.” Which means, he is lying. And he’s trying to find hot bitches to fuck. And that, most likely, he is cheating on his girlfriend.

Which also means…that bitch has nothing on me!

I always wondered what she had that I didn’t that made him ditch me. That made him stay with her. That made him have a baby with her. I mean, within 6 months of ditching me, this woman was pregnant! Did she just trick him, or what? Because in the six months we fucked, I didn’t get knocked up.

So yeah. I have a lot of mixed emotions. Like, I thought he stopped cheating. But it clearly don’t look like it.

Second thing.

I just discovered this not even two weeks ago. The family friend in Florida? He and his girlfriend broke up. I looked up flights down there, too expensive though. And I haven’t even talked to him in months.

But, what the fuck. Do I keep wondering what if, or do I reach out to him?

Ugh. Ugh. Fuck.

What if…

Something I always think “what if” about.

Day number 11- damn, this is certainly taking longer than it should. I guess it’s not exactly a “30 day challenge”…Oh well. Let’s just go with it. It’s a challenge nonetheless since it gives me a topic to write on.

So. Moving onto the topic.

I’m going to admit something rather personal…something I really don’t like admitting.

Summer 2012, when I was involved with John Doe, a family friend returned home. I was twelve when he moved away, so 8 years later, I’m not so little anymore.

My sisters kept teasing me, saying we’d make a cute couple, that he really likes me, blah blah. You know, all that teasing a sibling (or friend, if you’re an only child…) does. And I’ll admit, he was-is-cute, funny, such a gentleman- and military. And honest, outdoorsy…Actually, he was, no is, one of the best good guys I’ve ever met.

I told my sisters he didn’t like me that way, we’re just hanging out. Just friends, as friends, and nothing more. John Doe was jealous, pissy any time I was with him.

He never did make a move on me…although one night we’re cuddling on the couch watching a movie, and out of nowhere he says, “I like your pink underwear.”

Um. What the fuck? I probably blushed and said “thanks, me too” but I was too focused on how the fuck did he see them?? I was wearing a dress sure, but I never felt him lift it up and look, and it was definitely long enough to cover my ass when I bent over.

I had so much fun with him. He’s the only guy I ever felt like I could truly be myself around.

But then his mom died, and he buried her, and went back to his other home, in another state. And I never could afford a flight down. And when I could…well, he had a girlfriend.

And I’ve kicked myself, hated myself…what if I had quit seeing John Doe? Would things be different? And what was I so afraid of?

I tell my sister that if only this friend had returned home even a couple weeks earlier, it would have been different…but he hadn’t, and I had already given my virginity away to John. And that’s what kept me from possibly ditching him.

I don’t know. I just know a part of me cares deeply for him. And I’ll probably always wonder “what if”.

What if… I never fucked around with John Doe.

What if… I pulled myself together and went on a trip to see him.

What if… I didn’t ignore the signs of his interest.

What if…

Words Not Forgotten

And probably never will be.

Okay, so technically I wrote my previous post yesterday, and just got to the library today. So I’m doing day two of this writing challenge. It goes as follows: Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot.

It was two summers ago, and I was seeing John Doe. We went out to eat at a Mexican restaurant a few miles down from his house, and I was telling him about my dreams, wanting to be an RN in the NICU. I confessed to him how my own older sister told me it’s too hard, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

He looked dead at me, stared into my eyes, and said, “Fuck that. If it’s what you want to do, do it. I know you can.”

And just having his support back then, made me stronger. Here was someone who had known me for only a few months, and yet he saw the strength in me to be able to handle something so emotionally breaking as working with babies who may or may not live; who fight for their life alongside dozens of other babies.

I’ve since had a few others, my nurses where I work now, tell me I can handle it. Because “you’ve got a strong heart, and you care.”

I wish my own sister could see the strength these others see in me. Or maybe she’s right, and they’re wrong. Either me, I know the only way to find out is to reach my dream.

And no matter what damage John Doe did to my heart, his support and encouragement truly touched me. And maybe it’s because they came from him I’ll never forgot them. Regardless, he believed in me. And it helped me believe in me.