It was late Saturday night / early Sunday morning. As I sat on the bench outside a favorite after-work dining spot, with Night Before Guy, I suddenly found myself a very different me. An hour earlier, over our eggs and matzo ball soup and bloody Mary's, I had tried to explain to him why I don't think I'll ever sleep with him again. Our work shift that night, prior to our breakfast feast, had consisted of our usual shenanigans: sneaking a kiss, him acting insanely silly and goofy, me laughing, him grabbing my butt. Standard. Sure. But something I had felt months ago, had still not changed: the boy doesn't open up to me, not beyond the silliness. And that, while amusing in small doses, gets old and can be irritating. Luckily, we have shared a sexual chemistry that could fire up small planets, so it's not exactly like it's ever been an issue. But now...I felt it was enough of one to speak up about how I really felt. So I brought up how I really don't like how we never talk, about anything, ever.
He immediately went on the defensive, and for the rest of the meal kept slipping into sullen spells. I was confused; had I seriously offended him? He responded by saying yes, he was hurt, and mad at me for saying that. That I must think he's "some dumb, unintelligent guy with nothing more to offer than acting stupid." I tried to explain this wasn't a criticism of him as a person, and that I certainly didn't think that way of him. But, I also said, that "I feel cheated, in a way. You share everything, and show all of who you really are, with girls you don't sleep with. So...why not me? I mean, we're friends right, you claim you love me, that you care about me. So why not open up to me, beyond acting silly?"
He still wasn't getting it. He kept saying things like,"I know, I know. You're an intellectual person. Is that what you want? To sit here and discuss literature and scientific hypotheses and whatever? I'm drunk as hell, I'm not even close to capable of doing that right now. I mean, if you want to talk and have interesting conversations, fine. But all I wanted to do tonight was eat and have a nice meal and spend time with you." Which made me frustrated: but what does that mean then?? You say you want to spend time with me. Okay, so basically if we're not fucking, then "spending time" consists of you acting like a retard, and me feigning laughter because... what else can I do? I know that's "like, way harsh, Tai", but, it's accurate. It's all he ever gives me, all he ever shows me. So I broke it down for for him like this, "All you ever do is freestyle rap, or make weird noises and sound effects. Is it really asking too much for us to have an actual conversation? Let me get to know you?" He registered the truth of that statement. For the first time, he seemed to be comprehending my words, instead of taking them personally. "Is that really all I ever say?" "YES," I replied. I watched as the realization crossed his face that, yeah: that was indeed the extent of what we "talk" about. He tried to justify it with the following explanations: he gets nervous around me. He was too drunk right now to hold conversation. He just wants me to like him, which makes him nervous around me, which makes him revert to silly mode. He genuinely likes to be silly around me. And I listened. But I was holding my position. If I feel like I'm being short-changed because you don't talk to me about anything substantial, then that's how I feel. If I'm bored by lack of conversation, I'm allowed to be. At this point, no amount of magic that our private parts share could make up for that.
We were dwindling down to the last bits of our food at this point. I was looking around the room, not sure if what to do or say. He could tell I just wanted to get out of there, which I kind of did. But at the same time, I wanted to stay. It's like sometimes I see something there, between the two of us, that's real. Or maybe I'm just secretly hoping I do. I want to believe there's more to him. And I know there is, because I see how he acts with other people. But for me, I never get a taste. I've tasted every part of him, except who he really is. And it was bumming me out. But I wasn't sure why.
We paid and headed outside. We wound up sitting on a bench for the next half hour or so, hashing out what had just happened. It was weird. Not just because it was pretty much daylight out, and I had been awake for nearly 20 hours. But because we had come to a sort of a crossroads. Or at least, I had. He was still trying to convince me to come over, to stay at his apartment, but I was still sitting on that bench. I was, quite honestly, torn. He was saying, "All I want to do is have sex with you, with no strings attached. Why can't we just do that? And the sex is so amazing with us; I don't understand why you would pass that up." I didn't know, myself. What was happening? Here was a boy who could fuck me better than nearly any lover I've ever had, whose dick should be molded and prayed to, whose hands and lips did incredible things to me. He had a sex drive to match mine, an insatiable appetite that was on par with my own. So what the hell WAS wrong with me? I've dumped guys before simply because they couldn't keep up with me sexually. And now here was this guy, possessing those specific traits I so desire, who wanted me, and yet...I was turning him down. Seriously. WHO AM I??? WHAT IS HAPPENING? And then he said something he had mentioned once before, on that fateful night that started these 100 days: "You want a boyfriend."
I denied it vehemently when he said it then, and I denied it again this time. He continued by restating the second sentence he had also said that fateful night, that he "can't be my boyfriend....we'll never be together." And it was making me mad and hurt. But what was making me so mad? Why was I so offended- what, by someone telling me what I want, what I can't have? Granted, it's never easy to hear someone say to you so bluntly that "we'll never be together." But that didn't upset me. I know we'll never be together; I've always known. From the second I met him, I knew we would never be a couple. My instincts are too awesome. Even after we started hooking up regularly, I still didn't delude myself into thinking it was anything more. No, I was, and am, angry and hurt because he was right: I kinda...do...want a boyfriend.
Dude. Listen. Even TYPING that sentence makes me shudder, tear up, want to puke, run away, hide, curl up in a ball. It makes me feel weak, and ashamed, to admit that I could possibly...ughhhhhh...want a boyfriend. But why?? Why is that such a horrible thing to admit? For so long, girls are told what they are supposed to want in life. I luckily didn't have that upbringing. But still. You get exposed to it eventually, in junior high and so on. And I, being an awkward teen, could never have any of "it." Boys didn't want me. I wasn't pretty. I tried at first, sure, to look how I was supposed to look, to test the waters to see if boys would like me. I couldn't, and they didn't. So I rejected all of what I was supposed to want, and did my own thing instead. I settled into a state of perpetual singledom. For YEARS, I was so proud of being single and owning it. For so long, I was sure I was immune to those petty "wants" that every other girl is consumed by. I'd evolved past that. It wasn't "me." Boyfriend?! Nahhh. Relationship? Um...pass. Marriage? Get out of my face with that crap. No, I happily did my bed-hopping thing. I felt proud to my core that I was so self-sufficient, so free-spirited, so wild-hearted, so perfectly okay with that lifestyle. I didn't want for anything. All those sitcoms and jokes, with women complaining about men who won't and can't commit, were foreign to me. The dating, the desire to find a man, the single-woman struggle: I was immune to all that. None of that was me. I was above it. And I relished in it.
But then, Sunday morning happened. I was told by Night Before Guy that I "want a boyfriend", and it made me react as defensively as he had over my comments during breakfast. I was still sitting in that bench, lost in my thoughts, and starting to realize that horrible realization. That maybe, just maybe, he was right.
It wasn't until today that I fully understood what was going on, and why those words struck a particularly painful chord within me. It's because it (it = having a loving boyfriend) was in fact a desire I had buried deep, deep down, a long, long time ago. This realization fully surfaced while I was spending time this afternoon with a dear friend, Marika. She's a fantastically beautiful woman, and, just like me, she is and has always been happy in her singledom. It's pretty much "No man? No problem." We don't get jealous, because we don't need a man. You want him? You can have him. We don't date, nor do we seek out partners. We "keep it real", so to speak- we recognize the men in our life for who and what they are. And, for the purpose they are there to serve. If it's just for sex, cool. If it's just for the short term, awesome. We do us, and we find our happiness in other ways.
Marika had recently has been going through something that's made her, like myself, realize that she DOES want a man. She DOES want love. She wants that (shameful) dream that "every" girl has. She, like me, felt ugly and undesirable growing up, and had also wound up rejecting societal standards. We both buried our "desires under dirt, covered it with cement, built a house over it, and locked it up." We both hid away our real wants and needs so deep down, we forgot they were there. So now she's met a man, and he's kicked that house down, broken the cement, and shoveled up the dirt. And as for me, Night Before Guy jump-started my uncovering. He looked at me, and saw something and said, "Hey, what's that down there?" And I started prodding, and then I was digging. And as a result, Marika and I found our hidden troves, and with them, a mirror. And we were forced to open them up, and look at ourselves in that mirror. Marika spoke those words to me, and I had to write them exactly as she said them because it so absolutely captures our experience.
Uncovering those desires, and looking in that symbolic mirror, was one of the most painful things I've ever gone through. Understand, that's years and years of suppressed desires I uncovered. Not sexual ones, but really intimate and emotional ones. It's crazy, because I'm constantly preaching how you should be you, and own it, whatever that is. And yet here I am, unable to do it myself. I can barely admit that I want something more than sex, that I want something meaningful. That I (god forbid!) want a relationship. Marika and I talked about this, how we both associate wanting a man with weakness. And to admit we do want a man makes both of us feel extreme shame. The words themselves literally feel like poison in my mind, in my fingers as I type. I'm supposed to be strong! I'm supposed to be fiery, and fiercely independent! I could barely type this confession, let alone vocalize it to anyone. But it makes sense, really. Why I was so afraid of letting someone, anyone, in. Why I fell into sexy mode, always. Why I was constantly and secretly hoping the guy I'm dating would say he wants to be with me, for real. But, never letting myself admit why I wanted him to say those words. It's so, so painful for me to face that I want this. But even more so, that I denied myself something I truly wanted, for all these years.
I know this admission of what I really want will send many a man fleeing to the hills. And that's cool yo. If the fact that a woman like me, wants something real, terrifies you- ain't no thang. Enjoy all the blowjobs you'll never get from me. Which was something else Marika pointed out: my turning down of sex with Night Before Guy. She pointed out that by me firmly holding my position and voicing my opinion, by telling him what I needed (him opening up to me), I had made some huge steps. I had:
a) finally told a guy what I need from him, and held my ground no matter how he reacted,
b) put myself first,
c) fully recognized what I'm worth, and
d) put my emotional needs before my sexual needs.
This all seemed to tie in to Marika's mantra: "I love me more. I'm worth more." Which completely applies to this situation on Sunday with Night Before Guy. I told him what I needed. When it was clear he couldn't open up to me, and that maybe he'll never be able to, I passed on sex (no matter how mind-blowing.) Even after he continued to throw his sales pitch, I stood my ground. I have always given in to sex before, even when it wasn't all that great. "I want pleasure now, and I'll deal with the pain later" is how my friend Jasmine very excellently put it. But now, I can't go back. I've faced myself. I've unearthed what I really want. And I've changed. When I first felt these shifts, earlier in the project, I was scared that I might no longer be the sexual beast we've all come to know and love. But now I know, nah, I definitely still am. Now I just want to hold it out for someone who really deserves it. And really- there's no shame in that.
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