How is it that sexuality, confidence and stability can clash together causing inner most ideals and beliefs to fall down, crash and burn. Ideally two people meet, get together and could get married. They could then proceed to have children. This is the ideal. The reality of that ideal is that it can exist and does many more times than one.
The break-up? What causes one or both to seek what they are missing or not getting from that relationship. I have in the past and even now seek stability. I am a sexual human being therefore I seek sex. I foremost am working towards a stable lifestyle of my own choosing.
Last year I wanted to have a baby. This was the second time the man did not want to have a baby with me. This made for a very sexless marriage and later on a relationship, after the initial two year rush of new love wore off. I began toying with the idea of an open relationship in my early twenties. I was not getting what I wanted sexually. I gave up the idea of having a baby. Today it still hurts. A week before leaving he told me he did not and does not ever want children with anyone. This made me sad and turned myself inwards to answer that question for myself. I wanted to have a baby with him and was willing to consider the possibility of not having any children with him. I loved him that much. I could do that. Then he left. I didn’t get to tell him. I didn’t get to say that one week before, I was with another man fooling around. And that this man went to far. That he forced himself upon me, laying his full 250lb body weight on and over me with my face in the pillow and stomach to the bed he forced his fingers into my vagina and I couldn’t move. A friend. He was a very close friend of mine. Someone I trusted. I trusted him, that when I said “no” he would not break that trust. Fucker.
I didn’t tell anyone for weeks, months? I talked to my doctor in early February about what had transpired in early December, 2006. She told me it was not rape and considered inappropriate sexual touching. She gave me the phone numbers for a crisis line to call at my convenience. It was a heated evening but the fact remains I asked him twice to not put his fingers or anything else between my legs while giving me a massage. I have a tendency to come-on strong. I do reserve the right to say no as much as I deserve the right to say yes.
The only man I slept with over the past four years was my ex-boyfriend. My ex knew I am faithful with my love, however like to have fun with my friends, hugging, kissing, rubbing… honestly, just fun – cuddling. He was ok with this usually. I could never get a clear answer. A common response was “I am so jealous of you being able to be so open and talk about sex and all that comes with sex”. I began retreating inwards. Deeply hurt and confused. The happier and more successful I became the more he was jealous. I used drugs to hide from myself. To numb myself. Before I knew, I was gone. I couldn’t leave him. I loved him. As much as the ex hurt me, I hurt him.
My first sexual experiences were with other girls of my own age. I had blacked out when I was 13 after drinking vodka, waking up in a car not knowing what the hell had happened and why the boys were staring. I vowed no man would ever take my virginity and took it myself later that year. Boys were often mean to me. I was raped at 17. A high school boyfriend mentally and physically abused me for two and half years then stalked me for the first six months after I entered into another relationship. This relationship was healthy. One of the best I have ever had. To this day, I have not been able to track him down to say thank you.
I don’t understand why chaos ebbs its way in when you least expect it to. It hits you in the face again, and, again and again.
Over the Christmas Holidays/break-down-days I watched Frida. I have watched it three times since. If Frida could keep going and keep producing art and keep loving all those around her regardless of her physical and mental pain I can too. She is my hero right now. A female addict artist heroine whom caused a flicker of recognition within, that I am not insane or bad, nor am I stupid.
This is the chaos that bounces people back into reality from make-belief.
It hurts occasionally, walking off the line.