(Disclaimer: This is about as personal as it gets.)
I am concerned with my addiction. Yes, I know that addictions are always something to be concerned about. But I’m really good at blocking things out, especially when I’m worried about them. Like the gang bang. And the hot-tub-partner-swap. And the summer of 2005.
I am more concerned now, though, than ever. I assumed it was a crush. Okay, a crush with great sex. Okay, okay, a crush with great sex and great conversation. But after reading Jamie’s post on crushes, and actually thinking about this delicate anatomy, I am concerned that my crush is much more than that, and it totally freaks me out. Of course I hold my breath after texting him, counting the minutes before he texts me back. Of course I fantasize about what I would do to him if we were left alone locked away in a dark room. Of course I worry about any other girls crushing on him and figure out ways to make myself the best option he could possibly have. These are normal crushing behaviors that every girl has. These are the things that make crushing fun, and also obnoxious.
But then there are the other things. The things that may not be normal. The middle-of-the-nights when I wake up before the sun, roll over seeking his arm to hold or cheek to kiss, and am surprised when he’s not there next to me. The days when I’m at the grocery store and I buy things that aren’t on my list because I know he likes them. The times when I find myself thinking for two, not just about where I want to go or what I want to do or who I want to be in ten years, but about what he might want too.
And then I bang my head against the wall for being so completely unselfish in the time of my life where I am actually allowed to and should be the most selfish ever. And I think about the real reason for these unselfish tendencies. Am I simply being unselfish because I am an unselfish person? Hell no. I am one of the most selfish people I know. Am I being unselfish because I am in love? Because I know exactly how he takes his coffee? Because even after an entire night of sitting at the same bar talking not to each other, but to other members of the opposite sex, we still end up entangled in each other’s arms at the end of the night? Because he’s the one person that knows how hold me and how to keep me asleep for an entire night and how to handle my crazy? Because I can’t live without him?
Holy effing balls. I hope not.
As much as my heart tells me I want all that, my head tells me over and over that I’m not ready for that. Usually, my solution is to just not think about it. Block it all out and let whatever happens happen. Days and weeks and months go by. We spend hours on top of hours together. Things are great. I stop worrying. But then it happens. He stops answering my texts and calls. I convince myself that I’ve failed. I cry. I send him an email asking what happened and what did I do and why are you treating me like this?? And he says because he can’t do it anymore. Because he’s becoming too attached. Because it’s too good and why did we have to meet so young?
And so my only logical solution to this is to keep busy. Think for only one, not two. Make time for other people. Don’t fall into the whirlwind of lips and hips and fingertips. Pray that I’ll find someone else to fill my thoughts and fantasies. Hope that person isn’t as crazy as I am and knows how to handle temptation and make decisions with the head, not with the heart (or genitals…). Don’t question whether or not that person exists. He does. And he’s praying for me (and you), too.