I spoke to my ex for 8 hrs yesterday. As usual, it was easy and pleasurable: it always has been as long as we were both receptive, patient and flirty. We have a way of syncing up regardless of physical boundaries and it’s a powerful wave of energy that allows us to accomplish a lot when we’re together. I don’t use the term soulmate lightly but it’s the only vague term that explains how we dream the same dreams, how we’ve been to the exact *same* places in a city with thousands of businesses that we normally would not inhabit (I think we kept missing meeting each other on our own/had really bad timing so, the Universe shoved us in the direction of one another), how we would call each other just as we thought of the other, bumping into my mom and sister (of all random relations!) on the streets of Flushing in a city of millions of people with hundreds of city blocks, having relatives out of state but in the same semi- rural -urban town and on and on. I loved his intense masculinity that matched my tomboyish femininity; I need sex with his type-A approach to balance the only “girl-ish” tendency I have, which is the inability to have sex without an emotional connection. But I don’t mean to suggest we were in some vanilla-type sex: we fucked like champs in a way many people would envy and that’s because my fail-safe of being monogamous allows me to be more sexually free with my partner (without a partner leads to penning up crazy levels of arousal that need release). When it’s just one partner, I don’t have to worry about STD’s or ending up with someone into hate-fucking/objectification via an “Asian fetish”. The deeper connection leads to orgasms that tend to be more exhilarating and the eye contact more satisfying. But I stray from what this is supposed to be about – doing what I have to for me to get pass Beck.
I wish I were a little more stupid/thickheaded so that I could be petty enough to hold onto every slight anyone has done to me. It would make it so much easier to stay angry and never, I mean never ever, speak to him again if I could just think about his attitude that didn’t always take responsibility for his own actions and reactions over and over tirelessly. If I could just blow it up in my head when he tossed a credit card at my face/head, then cutting every happy memory would be effortless and I wouldn’t have to lock every feeling and thought inside myself because he won’t allow me to be vulnerable without backlash. But I wasn’t built to be sustained by anger, hate, resentment, etc. It’s just too much work and I prefer being happy 🙂 I find the good in everyday (even small things like a certain cock-a-poo waiting for my arrival) and I live in the moment. Sometimes, I forgot to enjoy those little things in the face of Beck’s negativity and anger because I would absorb it all. I’d like to think I bounce back pretty well in my time and in my way: I can’t be rushed but I also won’t slow down. It’s my inner strength and experience which led me to believe that if I internalized Beck’s anger, he’d let it go. I didn’t know how to convey the wisdom I discovered, through previous relationships, on the natural cycle of up’s and down’s couples have and how it’s important to pick your battles. Most times I didn’t fight back or disagree with him because nearly all the fights were such small stuff that I can’t even think of the reason(s) why we fought. I can’t tell you all the words but I can tell you how it felt. They were gut-wrenching in those enraged minutes and I think we didn’t have enough fights for comparison (fight-to-fight) or analysis. For Beck, it’s all or nothing and that kind of ideology is for the young or the foolish. If you fought with your significant other only once or twice a year, is that a good thing or a bad one? Is that a clearer picture of his micromanaging to my macro one? I only know how to live, with regards to the grand scheme of things, each day like it’s my last and where my place is in the world through the larger picture. But we still must do what we can to survive in the present and future.
I have to tell myself, a daily mantra, to love him enough to let him go: to be the bigger person. God damn it all, I hated being told that as a child – having to give up things that were mine by right and bewildered that the adults in my life were cruel enough to willfully sacrifice my childhood and innocence. I don’t want Beck to be denied his search for carnal pleasure and peace of mind. I definitely don’t want to be the reason he develops resentment and it’s only now that he’s acknowledging the mother-type figure he projected onto me. I want a man by my side and in my bed: not someone who needs to be coddled. I have to let go because I’m not enough for him nor was our relationship. I know good men exist and most only make good partners after they’ve put prior lovers/relationships through the wringer and then, set it on fire. I’m a little tired of being able to make my significant others better people but not being able to enjoy it for myself. Why does it seem like I’m being punished for believing in, helping and supporting my loved ones through their trials and ensuring they succeed? Is it because that’s my lot in life or because I discovered who I am, what I want and need very early on in my life and that attracts people to me? I want, no I need to give up and I shouldn’t have anything to do with Beck because the inverse is already true for him. It’s torturing myself by staying connected with him because it’s coming – the news that he’s found someone else. There’s no way I can engage in rebound sex because I’ve already been there between Chris and Jed. But we do what we must to make it in this world, right?
And then there are the love stories about weathering through the really difficult times that stick to your memory: the ones that give hope, knowing darker times must pass and knowing that there are individuals who didn’t give in even where giving up/turning back seemed like better odds. People who still, given the numerous chances to give up and the beleaguered difficulty of getting over the next peak and the one after that, still forged ahead holding onto that one thing which mattered more to the big picture in what seems like a story without a possible happy ending; those stories are the ones we remember best and desire to emulate. It’s those stories we continue going ahead with for prosperity, so that our children have something personal to hold in their darker times and allowing for their stories to be told theirs and to countless others. It’s what I thought we would make and if I waited long enough for him, it would pay off. Seven years is a long time to wait for someone to mature, to find whatever truth it is that they seek for a peace of mind and that length of time should only ever be spent on someone worth it. I’m praying the God(s) will be merciful this time and keep our paths separate if our lives must be lived separately. But somehow, I know our story isn’t done and the futility of asking for a new destiny or requesting that things be otherwise isn’t in the cards in this lifetime. Fortitude continues to make me raise my head because we must make do with what we have to make it in this world!