This is Not A Fucking Aspiration

I woke up in the arms of Ginger Chris and as he opened his eyes we began speaking of intimacy. By the end of the day he’ll end things because he just wants to fuck around. The whole tryst lasted maybe 26 hours if you include the “breakup” sex, because more often than not, lust negates reason.

If you poke around on the internet long enough you will find things you don’t want to see. In this morning’s round of creeping I found out that my ex has been dating someone, and started the weekend we broke up. I call my friend Ian to tell him this.

“Well darlin,of course there is. He wouldn’t have left you unless there was someone else waiting. But it’s not about you.”

I’ve been dumped A LOT lately. That’s a hard pill to swallow. The times I haven’t, it was because I wasn’t feeling it for whatever reason and I would rather be alone than tied to another human being I’m not going in for. Maybe that makes me different than other people.

I don’t wish I was his new girlfriend. In fact, I am over him as a person but there is still this little bastard of a heartache hanging out and it’s incredibly annoying. I wish I was in the mindset that I could see him on the street and not clam up and run as fast as possible in the opposite direction. I’m not there yet though.
“So how do I stop feeling shitty?” I asked.

“You fill the space and time with YOU.”

There’s the kicker though. If he were to see me and we were too catch up, even if I were to talk about a promotion, or buying a motorcycle, or getting published in the New Yorker, it would wouldn’t constitute as success until I mention someone I’m dating. I’m realizing how messed up that is. The goal is still a relationship. It’s to wake up in someone’s arms and want to talk about intimacy, which is not something I feel like we are fully capable of understanding. The goal overall is still the house in the burbs and a legion of toddlers running at your ankles. That’s not my path, but it’s still a system of rating that as a 20 something year old woman I am still judged against.

Even when my dad talks to me and asks how I’m doing, his primary concern is that I have no one to take care of me.

I do have people taking care of me; just not in the romantic sense. I have my best friend who has literally taken the role of mom since my mom died, helping guide me through the crazy. I have Ian who effortlessly compartmentalizes my crazy and grounds me. I have the team at work empowering me who have more or less become my Chicago family, as well as countless other between the coasts. You know that village that raised me as a kid? A new one is raising me as an adult. Just because I’m lacking a boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m starved for love.

There I was a moment in time where I made the choice between the loving romantic relationship, and learning to find out who I was. I haven’t been in a relationship since, but I know who I am. This is my ship now. I don’t believe I’m unlovable, but even if I am not loved RIGHT NOW, at least I owe myself the decency of being happy.

And I don’t want to talk to anyone who doesn’t think that counts for success more than being in a relationship.

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