DAY 13: Zack Morris Time-Out

All I want to do right now is throw shit, chuck this computer across the room, pull my hair out, yell.

In my inebriated state the best I could muster was the poor man's version of that: when I got home earlier, I threw my keys in frustration and they fell behind my couch. Then I stress-ate a seaweed salad.

Because tonight, let's face it: I failed. For 10-15 seconds, give or take, I failed.

I knew what was happening, I knew what I was doing, and I failed. I can't blame the alcohol, the holiday cheer, the staff christmas party I was at. I can only blame myself, I suppose. I'm at a loss. I'm disappointed in myself, and I feel like I not only let myself down, but everyone that's been reading and supporting me. I've fully validated all of my doubters, haters, nay-sayers, everyone who was placing bets against me from the get-go. FUCK. I have this weird nauseated sensation every time I think back to what I allowed to happen inside my vagina mere hours ago. I feel like I want to piss it out (yeah yeah I know, different hole, DUH.)

So, now what?

I just want to stop time and crumble into the silence of the clock's halted hands. I can't believe it. 13 days? Really? Is that really my (literal) fucking limit? I was initially afraid to even admit it or write about this slip-up, to be honest. But I couldn't lie. I couldn't act like it "didn't count", simply because I stopped it two thrusts in. I instantly hated on myself after it happened; I was so mad, for being so stupid and weak.

It's weird though. I'm trying to identify this feeling, and I can't. I've never actually stopped sex before, unless the condom was making me sore or something. I've never stopped out of my own volition, even when I wasn't into it, or even if I wasn't into the dude. This is the first time I've ever stopped sex with someone who I not only like very much, but gets the job done; doner than done.

I wholeheartedly wish I didn't do it. I know you men out there are reading this going, "Heh heh heh, I knew she couldn't resist the power of the peen, no woman can, heh heh heh, my dick could conquer nations!" Of course you would think that. Of course the weakness I'm talking about here has everything to do with dick and balls, and nothing to do with the work I've done so far. Of course you would see me as, "Ohhh she is such a poor lost little lamb who needs to get rammed, otherwise she is useless." Of course you would think your cock could sway me to any direction you point it in. This weakness, this regret, that I'm talking about, actually has very little to do with the actual act of sex that went down. It has to do with the two weeks of work I've put in that I now feel I've effectively flushed down the toilet (which, coincidentally, was the location of said sex encounter.)

I regretted it right away, and stopped it 15-seconds into it, but... it happened. I couldn't, and can't, undo it. I had time, sort of, to prevent it before it went down (in.) The sex, however short it may have lasted, didn't happen because I was horny or drunk. It didn't happen because I was starving for dick, doing it out of a humping habit, nor because I just felt like facing and grabbing a sink ledge, with my butt in the air, for the hell of it. It happened because I dragged Night Before Guy into the bathroom with me, and looked at him. I don't know why I pulled him in there. I had no pre-meditated intentions of doing anything physical with him. Part of me wanted to yell at him for all his shameless flirting with everyone else, in front of my face. For grinding on and making out with some random chick the previous night at work, in front of my face. For telling me how great a couple he and a mutual friend/coworker would make, minutes after telling me he doesn't want to be with me because he doesn't want to be with anyone.

Despite my feeling pissed, I never should've brought him into an enclosed, locked space with me, let alone paid him the slightest bit of attention at all tonight. But I wanted to tell him how I had been feeling, and I wanted him to look at me, and see me.

What followed was the fastest turn-around since any Knick lead-to-loss, ever. Within ten seconds we were all over each other, and next thing I know his dick is out, I'm touching it, briefly relishing the texture and heft of it before he spins me around. Then I'm holding onto the sink and he's filling me up in the best, eyes-rolling-back-into-my-head, way possible. I instantly loved it, but I simultaneously hated it. I felt myself recoil and wanting to immediately reject his body from my body. But I mean...DAMN. It felt so disgustingly...amazing. I didn't want to stop, but I couldn't let it go on. Not that it mattered; the damage had been done. I had failed. I didn't make it to 100.

I didn't even make it to 20.

I felt my disappointment rising to the back of my throat, and I took a physical and mental step away from him. Without a word or warning, I dismounted. I pulled his cock out of my body and pushed his energy away from my own. I rolled my tights and shorts back up, shaking my head and fighting the tears of anger. Next thing I know, I'm crying, and he's at a loss for words.

I don't really remember what he was saying to me, but it was along the lines of "Please don't cry," "Oh my god, you hate me," and "Are you mad because of the 100 day thing?" I mean, I was, but...I was so, so, so, so, SO horribly disappointed in myself. All that work! Those 13 days of work! Not just the writing, but the soul-searching, the empowerment I had been feeling. I had been riding so high all night because of my accomplishments. For the first time my mood had nothing to do with whether or not people were telling me I looked hot, nothing to do with attention from men, nothing to do with anything superficial. It was all because I had been getting a flood of compliments from people about my writing. People found me to be interesting, and hilarious. The things I was hearing that night had my head dizzy with happiness, and my soul soaring with euphoria.

You see, it wasn't just knowing that people enjoy my writing which was making me feel so great. For two weeks I'd been presenting my fears, I had been brutally honest and open, I had let out my vulnerabilities and thoughts to the world- and all those parts of me had been accepted. In 13 days I had gone from not doing ANY of that EVER, to accepting and loving all of it MYSELF. Not only was I accepting my truths, my flaws, my fears, but countless other people were doing the same. It's an incredible feeling, especially having lived YEARS of my life presenting only a certain side of myself, thinking no one else could ever like or want to know the rest. Tonight had me floating in the wave of support and the glowing reviews from my peers. It was a fulfillment and reward no guy nor penis could ever give me; it was one I had given myself through work and dedication to my writing and my self-improvement. And what did I do? I fucked up.

Granted, it wasn't some random dude, it wasn't some drunken horny grope-fest. It was with a guy I very recently had been sort of seeing / hanging out with, and for over a year, had been attracted to. I didn't do this for the "wrong" reasons, I didn't do this because I'm just some sex-driven wildcat.

Mind you, I'm not trying to justify this; I'm trying to understand it.

Why I did it, why I still bothered with him when he made it clear all he wants from me is sex. These past two weeks I've recognized a lot of my issues that were previously hidden, so now what? Why did I relapse, fall back into this place?

The bottom line is...I like him. My instincts don't get a clear read on the two of us, together, and where it could go, but I do know there's a connection, and definitely a chemistry. I can't ignore awesome chemistry like the one we share. It doesn't come along all that often. But it sucks that it keeps making me forget his issues, the bad things he's said to me. A strong chemistry like ours was blinding me to the truth, and all the shittiness, that was the moat surrounding it. Sort of like how my sexual side was blinding me to my own issues, for so long.

But damn, son. Why does it always have to be so fucking complicated? Why can't it ever just work? If two people vibe and clearly dig each other, why not just go with it? Why all the "oh hell no I don't want anything serious with you because I'm just so not in that place right now"? When did it get so hard to just be with someone that you like, because you like them? I don't think I'm weak, I think I want to be in love, in whatever capacity that happens. And for some reason, I look at this guy and I see something. I am still grasping onto the thought that finally, someone I like, likes me back.

I left tonight in a daze, upset as hell. I got into a cab and was calling a friend to fill her in, when he called me. He was on his own cab ride home, and spewed out the stream of "I miss you", "I love you" etc. I told him he needed to listen, because I like him, and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to make of those things he says to me because they seem to mean nothing. Unfortunately, he pointed out that I don't see what I think I see. I don't like him, I like the idea of him. He is not wrong. But... how can you deny chemistry? And then, how can I continue to give him the unspoken go-ahead, knowing it won't go anywhere, and that it is purely just sex? How can I have that chemistry-fueled, sex-driven thing on one side, then his "I love you"'s on the other? Can it be both, whenever he feels like showing one side or another, with no regard to how I'm feeling at that moment he chooses to express one thing or the other? I don't know if I can be happy with that. I explained to him several times that I'll just wind up getting hurt, and I'd rather just back out. But I keep going back, like a crazy person.

I think deep down I'm hoping he'll change, that he'll be ready and fully wanting me. I feel so close to finally having that with someone that I want, and it's hard to let go of the idea, or to accept it's just not the case. And it's even harder when you can physically feel the electricity with someone, even from across the room. But I have to remind myself the goal here is not a man. Maybe someday this self-growth phase will lead me to someone who will help me become an even better version of myself. But I'm not even thinking about that, that's not what's driving this. It's the need to become fully aware of and honest with myself, to accept and love every part of who I am. I got side tracked by a crush, by someone who made me feel like he could make me feel loved. But it wound up serving only as a reminder that I need to do that, not some guy. Tonight was just further proof that this break is necessary. So please, bear with me here. This celibacy thing a new to me. I still feel like crap about tonight, like my heart fell into my stomach, and my stomach fell out of my butt. I can't change what I did, but I can reboot, and try again. It's all about getting back up on that horse. I'd make a sex joke about that, but it's 7:30 a.m. and I haven't slept yet, and I am STILL wasted. So good night, and til next time.