“Wherever you are honey, I’ll Pray For You”

Breakup-Day 2. Once the hurt starts to subside, you start to see things more realistically.  I’ve found all the little things I missed.  On our last date, he disappeared a lot. It’s obvious now that he was texting someone else.  (I may have called him out on this in a codeine haze last night.) This was the same thing CS did with me.  Yet, still proceeded to fuck me on the hood of his car and tell me how we were going to spend the night together the next week. And sing the line from his favorite song in my ear “I can’t let you go.”

Seeing things in hindsight eases me missing him by almost 100 percent. Sometimes anger is the stage to be in.  As a female, we want closure, and answers we are never going to get.  I’ll never get the apology I want, he will never see fault. I’ll never get the answer of why he kept the ruse going.  Worst of all, I won’t know why he chose to come to my bar for our last date, knowing he was ending things. It’s just cruel.

So back on Tinder. Sure I’m on the rebound and it’s probably not a good idea to jump right back in, but there’d be no blog or broken heart if I made good choices. So far the most promising is a cop.  My heart isn’t in it because I’m scared of everything currently, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been listening to this song all day. I’d never wish major harm on CS but a flower pot falling on his head is fun to imagine.

“You put on quite a show, really had me going…… but it’s over now, go ahead and take a bow”

You’re relaxing in the bath trying to ease the body aches that has come from running a high fever and wracking coughs from spending your entire Christmas holiday from a bad bout of pneumonia. The phone rings and you see your guy’s name pop up  and you smile. You answer, because that voice, is the one that got you every time. Then you hear the words ” I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” And he gives you the bullshit excuses, which may have a little validity but in reality, you see through it. Fast forward until the next morning and you have to ask the fateful question “Is there someone else?”, and you get the reply that you knew was coming but it hits you like a dagger “there is.” So you do a vodka shot at 10 AM. And then another.

Did we fight? Yes, too much.  I thought I could fall. In reality, I fell for the words. The fact that he wanted to wait to have sex so I couldn’t say it was just another Tinder hookup.  The fact that he asked me to be his girl on our second date. The fact that he wanted to see pictures of the kids and meet my friends. The fact that I opened up more than I ever had anyone.  He reached me.  Hit me at an area of vulnerability from being used so much.  When it’s too good to be true, it often is.

I think he thought it was real for a time. Until the newness wore off. We were together a short time but the amount of intimacy between us made it a lot longer. Now I’m not necessarily broken hearted but feeling used and rejected while he’s not thinking about me due to upgrading to Ellie 2.0.  And I wonder how long I’ve been a fool, waiting for a text back when he’s been with her.

CS told me he wanted a break because he wasn’t sure he never wanted to see me again. Which puts me at the mercy of him. Yet again. Because what is broken in me that he sees that he thinks I can be on a break with him, waiting around to decide if he likes this other girl better? Luckily, I can look at the narcissistic traits now. How he bragged to my friends about his great credit score and money. Or most recently what a big dick he has. He likes the attention. And he had me to give it to him. And I fell for it.   Because my self-esteem was that damaged.

Now it’s moving on to not waiting for the every morning phone call.  To not waiting on the pics saying “you’re my girl.”  To accepting that the huge hug you liked being wrapped up in came from the guy who was the coldest one yet. Being used emotionally is so much worse than physically.  And he got off on that. I wish I could take back what I’ve shared. Because with all previous Tinder hookups, I’ve gotten good stories and never actually had true regrets.

CS would see this post and say “I was right, she was in too deep.”, when really that’s not what it is. You don’t have to be in deep with someone for rejection to hurt.   So no CS, I can cry not because I was in love with you (fuck, I don’t even know you), but because the happiness you gave me in the moment is gone. And for a brief time, I thought someone looked at me as someone they’d never get upgrade-itis for. I felt special.  And you proved that I wasn’t.   So as Rihanna said, I’d say to you CS “the award for the best lines go to you.”

So here it is, Ellie’s first heartbreak post.

“was gettin’ some head head Gettin’, gettin’ some head I was wit the kinda girl that make ya toes pop Super head what’s good? Super head what’s good? Super head”

The first fight is almost as important as the first kiss.  Where the first kiss sets the tone on if there will be a future relationship, the first fight will either send you down the yellow brick road for swiping (because along the online dating track you for sure will end up seeing munchkins, a cowardly lion, a tin man with no heart, and plenty of scarecrows with no brain) or make you stronger (but if I’m making Wizard of Oz references, wasn’t it SHOES that got Dorothy what she wanted? Glinda the Good Witch didn’t wave a wand to get a man to appear.) CS and I had our first major fight that dragged on for three days.  The fight began because of something he said after the first time I gave him a good finisher.   He’s one of the smartest guys I’ve ever met, so him to say something like he did without thinking made me wonder: do we, as women, have superpowers that turn a man’s brain to mush as soon as we drain them? Turns out, we kinda do.

I found an article regarding how a man’s brain changes after orgasm. A group of scientists scanned men’s brains both before and during orgasm and found that his cerebral cortex (the actual thinking area above their shoulders) shuts down during and about fifteen minutes after orgasm due to chemical release (Daily mail reporter, 2012). Which also makes me wonder could this be a reasoning behind the expression of fucking someones brains out. Also in today’s biology research, I learned that when men are dehydrated, their jizz is thicker.  Meaning, we give ourselves huge pats on the back thinking “Wow, I could really teach a class in this shit. I’m going to enter the porno Olympics and win a gold in blow jobs!”, but it has nothing at all to do with our performance.

So I guess we should cut them some slack. I guess that blood truly does rush to the dick….

 

 

Daily Mail Reporter. 2012. Too Tired For Pillow Talk: The Reason Men Don’t Talk After Sex. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2177158/Sorry-darling-I-just-help-How-scientists-real-reason-men-fall-asleep-sex.html 

“This is a modern fairy tale, no happy ending… no wind in our sails…But I cant imagine a life without breathless moments…”

As we know, I center my blog around music. I scroll through YouTube and listen to lyrics to find the perfect fit for how I’m feeling as I write. I’ve now discovered that when it comes to heartbreak, unrequited love, or complicated relationships, there’s a whole litany of choices.  But I found THE perfect one. So proud of myself. Never has a song described anything so perfectly.  (And here I was thinking Ed Sheerhan or Adele would do it.) So thanks Selena Gomez.

CS and I are in a complicated situation. We’re not really friends, or friends with benefits (we’ve had sex a total of once in almost three months) and can’t be in a traditional relationship. I guess this is the new term situationship.  And it’s hard. No way, no how do you EVER fall in love with someone you’re in a situationship with.  But I could. And even worse, I told him.  (Well, I told him I WOULD fall in love with him before the situationship was over ) To steal from Michael Scott (the Office) who stole from Wayne Gretzky (I know he was a great hockey player but I’m a southern girl so that’s really all I can say about that), “You miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take.”   Don’t apply that in a situationship. Miss the shot. On purpose. Because if not, you’re going to wind up feeling like that puck full on hit you on the face.

CS mentioned to me today that in the beginning, I was fine with things. He’s right. I was. I’m still fine knowing that our situationship is a day to day thing and as he says “we’re not going to ride off in the sunset together”.  But even though no future is desired or expected, I did want things a little more relationship-y than a situationship could ever have. The good morning text. The good night text.  The ten minutes to talk when I feel like my life is falling apart.   But we do talk on the phone almost every weekday. And share things that a situationship wouldn’t normally.  He says I’m his girl. That he’s my guy.  I didn’t think I’d ever connect with someone again on this level both mentally and physically.  And I’m in a panic mode. Because I took the shot.  And in my head, I let us get relationship like. And I was shown that in his head it is situationship instead. He kept it where it always has been. Where it is going to stay. Now I’m embarrassed, and running.

That’s the thing about whirlwind romances. It’s exciting. It’s intoxicating. It’s a high. It’s a quick connection. And then you fall. Without having the time to catch your breath to see if you can handle it. Then you start to argue because you haven’t gotten used to how things are going to be. And the more you argue, the more the passion seems to be your norm. Until you realize you’re not having the fun that the situationship was set out to be. Is simply living like there’s no tomorrow going to work? When the thought of never kissing that person again makes your heart break.  When there’s no future, how do you determine if it’s worth saving? Because the heart truly does want what it wants, and I want nothing more to see this through until it’s natural end. I just don’t know how.

“Another version of me..is she perverted like me, would she go down on you in a theater”……. Oops, time for a station change….”U got it, U got it bad. When you miss a day without your friend, your whole life’s off track”

I laid in bed last night coming up with the whole new blog entry in my head. Except, today I’m writing something different than I envisioned.  Alanis Morrissette was going to be my theme song today.    Because the little demon in my head was trying her (my demon is a chick that I picture as Elizabeth Hurley in the movie Bedazzled) best to convince me that CS was out getting fucked by someone else. (He wasn’t). I got in my own head and came up with a whole post about getting played emotionally this time and how much worse it was than being used for sex.  And then I was wrong. So I had to blog about what’s in me that causes my vivid imagination to make up the worst case scenarios instead of just laying back and using a toy while thinking about the way it felt when he kissed me that afternoon.

I haven’t mentioned much about CS yet, I think for fear of jinxing it.  And this post isn’t really about him, but about me. But here’s the background: He’s 6’3, hot, and has a big dick. He is great at foreplay and keeps my mind blown and head spinning at the multiple orgasms.  We talk almost everyday, which is where Usher comes in, (actually on the phone, heller 1994!), connect like hell mentally too, and is the first guy that seems to be as crazy about me as I am about him. He’s my guy, I’m his girl. (We mostly forego the boyfriend/girlfriend label as we are at the age where we are getting asked to leave bars for getting fingered rather than the homecoming dance.) He drove to my “Cheers”, met my friends. On a side note, we are waiting to have sex. Which is terrifying. and exciting. I keep having this whole Baby from Dirty Dancing moment in my head. Because I think that’s how I might feel afterwards.

So what’s the problem? Me. I have Post Traumatic Swiping Disorder. (There’s a whole market you haven’t tapped for DSM-IV diagnoses American Psychological Association).  On the outside, I’m fairly confident. I’m pretty hot for my age. I’m fairly smart. I’ve got my shit together. But such bad dating experiences has my inner, insecure needy bitch surfacing as soon as I stepped into some feelings.   CS has had such extreme patience and understanding but I know it can be frustrating for him sometimes. Because for the first time I didn’t hear from him for hours, I’d already envisioned me on the couch crying with chocolate ice cream and watching a girly movie, instead of taking him at face value when he said he was truly busy.  How do you overcome such bad experiences and not take it out on the next?  I think the antidote is just time.  And trying to vent to my girlfriends when crazy, inside, demon bitch tries to take over.

“Just going to stand there and watch me burn. That’s alright because I like the way it hurts.”

The one guy I’ve never written about.  The only one who was not a fleeting hookup. The one that has been in my life for over a year and a half, if not exclusively, at least consistently.  He turned me into “that girl”.   He is a narcissist who literally pouts when he can’t get what he wants.  And he had me so turned around, that he made me hate me at times. Ours was the quintessential toxic “non” relationship.  Here is the story of NP (no where even near his real initials-more on that in second).

My coworker decided to swipe for me on an app I hadn’t tried yet.  I match with the hottest guy ever.  He’s tall, perfect body. From the text conversations, intelligent.  I meet him at his house and while it wasn’t the instant chemistry I now know exists , it was fun, and all I could think of is that this super hot guy was interested in MEEEEEE!  We hung out, messed around (blow job) and it was great.

We continued to talk/text and see each other once or twice a week. He was (is) super convenient, lives three miles from where I live and my office.  It was always the same thing. We’d be buddies. Mess around. Blow job.  I decided to do some research after this was going on for a couple of months. He’s a retired NFL player with a local presence. And for that little bit every week, he was mine. It was fun. Until it wasn’t.

I went for a few months without letting on that I knew who he was.   The truth came out after he threw a sock at me while getting dressed and I accused him of throwing like a girl. Apparently retired football players don’t think that’s a very funny joke.  Everything changed that day. He had a TV appearance he was filming that night for sports commentary.  He told me to watch closely when it aired, he was going to give me a nod and a smile and I was the only one in the world who’d know what it was for.

NP started traveling for his side gig after that. It was supposed to be understood that I was available for him and him only (which you can see by the former blog posts, that wasn’t going to work for me).  When he was coming back in from out of town, I was to drop everything I was doing, and be there waiting for him as soon as he got home.  If I wasn’t, he would ignore me for days, he’d send me Snapchats of songs that were meant to put me in my place. (Chris Brown-This Ain’t-for example) or pics of him at a famous R&B singers wedding to remind me who he was.  The more he did this, the more I’d resist him, just to prove to him that, to quote Pretty Woman,  I was “nobody’s beck and call girl.”  But I used him too. Anytime I had a bad dating experience, I’d call him up. To remind myself that this unattainable guy had a slight addiction to me. Major self-esteem booster.

One night I was out and refused to be waiting for him at his house (I knew the codes) when he got home.  The next day, he skull fucked me so hard I was bruised around my mouth.  As fucked up as this sounds, that moment made any future blow job for any other man fantastic. I’ve always been talented in that area but NP taught me the ways of deep throating.  It was kind of necessary as I really thought “This is the way it ends. Choking on a dick. How appropriate. And because of WHO he is, it will be all over the news too. Sorry Mom and Dad.”   But this was the night that put forth the toxic cycle him and I had.  Another time to “punish” me for not being there when I was told, he picked up his phone to text during a bad moment. All to show me I could be replaced.

It’s embarrassing to admit that this cycle went on for another nine months.  Over the summer I moved and started working an additional job. I didn’t have much time for him. He ghosted me. Blocked me on every phone number and social media account. This was a guy that I’d been seeing for over a year.  Now, I broke up with a three year actual relationship and didn’t cry. With NP I cried for two days.  He’d never cut me out of his life completely.   ANNNNNDDDDD….. then he came back.

I had grown accustomed to the fact that he was never wrong,. that everything was going to be my fault.  And I admit I went right over when he sent the “we need to talk message.”   He pretty much acknowledged that we were like a drug to each other.  We made the decision that until one of us (him) got married (engaged or relationship didn’t even count) that it would be him and me. That this would keep going on.

Fast forward about three weeks later, I’m sitting in a booth across from a guy that terrifies me emotionally. He gets me.  There’s so much chemistry around us that we almost got kicked out of a bar a few days later (more on that later).  He refuses to have sex with me because he doesn’t want to screw things up. And he wants me to be his girl. And I agree to be his girl.  The next day I get a NP message. “You busy?”  I stare at my phone for a few seconds , press down on his name, and hit “Block User”.

So, NP. The end of our game. The fourth quarter is over. The stadium lights have dimmed. I’ve walked off the field.

” He was no more than a baby then,Well he seemed broken hearted,Something within him, But the moment that I first laid Eyes on him all alone, On the edge of seventeen”

Yeah, I thought about the ultimate Cougar anthem, Mrs. Robinson, but could truly not find anything to do with, well, being an actual Cougar…. Welcome to the blog post about fucking someone you could’ve given birth to….

CB was a right swipe and a match, that was also 19 years younger. We chatted and decided to meet up. He was a frat boy home to visit and do an internship for the summer. I was super surprised that he met all criteria and seemed quite mature for his age.

The first night was fun. We drank and ended up having okay sex.  To prepare for the second time, homeboy must have ended up taking notes after a pornhub premium subscription. He still did not know exactly what to do but came much closer, and then did the exact thing most men won’t do in bed, he LISTENED……….. and much to our suprise………..SPLOOOOSSHHH…. Niagara Falls. There’s nothing that turns a man on more than a squirter.  Imagine being a 22-year-old and realizing you can make a woman do that. So, you’re welcome CB. I have officially changed your game and your sex life for the rest of your life. (On a side note, I may get to find out. On our third and final time, he mentioned that we should do this every five years or so).

The final time of this fling was in early August right after he went back to school. He came home one weekend JUST to see me. I’m talking four or five-hour drive here.  The text I received said “I’m home, lemme know if you tryna hang tonight.” To which I replied, “English please, I don’t speak millennial.”  The sex was pretty great that last time, but I could tell he’d definitely been around the frat house. We could not hold a conversation. I kissed him bye before I left and told him it would be the last time, but this is one hookup I’m sure will be imprinted in each of our minds forever. Cheers to discovering new firsts in your forties.

On another note, when I started this entry earlier, I sent a Snapchat since I was just curious how he was doing.  His senior year is going great, he’s still being a fuckboi, and wonders what I’m doing over Thanksgiving week……………………………