Nothing Else Will Ever Be This Real, Now That I Know How You Feel
My mind has been revisiting some things from the last year. Now that my wedding date is starting to draw so close, some things are bubbling to the surface. I welcome input from strangers, especially as this is really supposed to be an anonymous blog.
I’ve posted about my history with my ex. I think there hasn’t been a week that went by that I haven’t thought about that time in my life. It hasn’t been a forlorn thing- where I pine over him and wish for it all back. Sometimes it’s moments- a song, a smell, a restaurant. Sometimes it was a good memory, other times I found myself flinching away, almost like a person waiting for a blow to the stomach. I’ve had recurring nightmares, wherein my fiancee does something horrible to me, and he morphs into my ex, or my ex does something horrible, and he morphs into my fiancee.
I’ve had an ongoing letter to him, that I’ve tried to write on and off for several years. I’m never sure I should write to him at all, and other times, I write because I want him to know that what he did didn’t kill me- that I survived him, that in the grand scheme of things, he was not enough to stop me.
Being around my Mother-In-Law is a wonderful thing. I remember worrying that I wouldn’t live up to her expectations, before the first time I met her, and her husband, formally. The first time I met them, I was single, and we barely spoke. The second time was before my relationship with their son was public knowledge. The third time, they came to visit him while I was over, and he announced our engagement to his parents without warning me.
My ex’s parents were welcoming. I was invited over to dinner, and eventually to regular family functions. But aside from a friendship with his sister, I never felt comfortable with his family. I felt like I was always proving myself. I felt like I could never take the guard down and connect on a personal level- even when I wanted to. For six years, I tried to have a frank, vulnerable, honest connection with his Mom- it never happened. Every time I got close to something personal, she would change the subject- always at arms length. His Dad was never personal. Truth be told, my ex hated his Dad, and was vocal about it. He also hated his sister- he’d talk about being teased by his handicapped sister, and follow it up by calling her a bitch.
But my In-Laws, they have never been unsupportive- even momentarily. Without knowing me, they welcomed me into the family. They supported our engagement, had no reservations about contributing to our wedding. I have ever felt like I had anything to prove with this family. They have the faith in me, that I can accomplish whatever it is that I need to.
My Mother-In-Law, particularly, is supportive of me. She doesn’t just lend herself to listen when I need it, and she doesn’t lecture me on the things I do, say or think. She relates. When she offers information to me, it’s imparted, not forced. And somehow she always manages to bring herself to a place where she feels like we’re riding the same wavelength. There has been heartbreak in her past, in much the same circumstance as there has been in mine. It amazes me how she got through it, and how long she lived with it, waiting for it to fade away. But the advice she gives me, sometimes, or at least her opinion on some things, is that when someone hurts you the way she and I were betrayed, sometimes it is simply best to push down and ignore our feelings of betrayal, to choke down the little hurts and tell ourselves it means nothing. In my heart, I don’t know how to do such a thing- to allow someone I love and am so dedicated to, to commit mental adultery day in and day out just to stomach one more day of having to be stuck with only me.
Something I have learned, that I should really take the time to share with people with a more modern outlook on sex and relationships: current times have given way to a trend known as the Female Chauvinist Pig. These girls have big parties, drink until they should be in the hospital, and have empty, casual marathon sex with men and women alike. Often, they wake up with no memory of it- chalk it up to booze if you want, but I think the mind has taken some liberties in the realm of self-protection. Women have turned themselves into little more than used hankies to jerks who can’t commit. Why do people think the endless variety of sexual partners to feel fulfilled? Do you feel any more fulfilled? Or is every tryst laden with alcohol and mind-bending drugs, because you couldn’t do it straight-laced? What is the motivation?
I don’t drink- obviously, I can’t. And my experimentation with drugs has been of a single type, and for a very short amount of time. To this day, I have not slept with a person to whom I was not deeply committed. But then, I’ve been taught by men my whole life through that my body doesn’t matter to them- that the only physical thing in this damned world I have any control of, means nothing and can be bought anywhere for any or no cost at all. No person (and I mean NO person) has ever made me feel like my physical contribution to a relationship means a thing, and I have had men and women alike, my entire life through, try to teach me to feel the same and use it at will for mindless, momentary joy.
What they couldn’t wrap their minds around, is that the same opinion is often spread by rape victims, who belittle the act of sex so that they don’t have to feel like they lost anything. But I’m one of the few that doesn’t believe that. I lost something. I lost something that should have been mine alone to control- and losing it, giving it away… that should have been my choice. So, no; I will not allow just anyone (whether or not he looks good) to crawl between my knees and take the place of my rapist. The act of sex, for me, is something I want to have good feelings and memories about- not regret and fear. The first time was enough. I don’t want the potential memory of each and every nobody I could have slept with, stuck in my head forever. I would rather have a lifetime of monogamy in my head. When you love someone, deeply and truly, words fail you. Sometimes all you have left to show them is the love you make together- and it means nothing if every joe in the bar has been there.
Anyhow. Just my viewpoint- albeit perhaps an odd one.