It’s kind of hard to accept that I was pity fucked. It’s degrading. She didn’t have any sort of interest in me, she just did it because she felt bad.
All I can really think to say here is “I wanted to feel pretty”, which is kind of absurd to think as a male, but it’s mostly true. I wanted to feel desired, like I fucking mattered.
I felt nothing like that. I could tell she was bored. That hurt. She didn’t even really try to make it seem like she cared, although she certainly fucking loved it when I ate her out. She didn’t really seem to care whether I liked it or not.
It hurts. It was my first time and it was degrading. I enjoyed it in the moment, but it has only caused me more issues. It wasn’t what I wanted. Not fully. I did want sex, but I didn’t want meaningless sex. I wanted something special, something I could remember fondly. What I got was… I don’t know, but it certainly wasn’t what I wanted.
It’s odd. I used to be lost without the computer and the games I play. Now? I kind of want to get away from it. I’m on here and I can’t help but think of this past weekend. Most of the time, I’m fine, but there are times when it is all I can think off. It shouldn’t be so bad, but there is a sense of loss in the thinking. I haven’t heard from her since the day after I got back. I talked about what had happened, she said a few words, and that was it. She said things would change, but I didn’t really expect to not hear from her. So, I have to process it all and get the thoughts out of my head.
I feel like it should be done already. We weren’t dating. It wasn’t headed toward dating, and we were never going to be together romantically. In spite of that, I couldn’t help but feel. It’s a part of who I am. I enjoyed having someone I could talk to and share things with, even if I couldn’t truly share my heart the way I wanted to. There is a large void in me that seeks to have someone in my life and it reaches out for the wrong person sometimes. I try not to, but I can’t always help it.
I’m really not sure. Things are just off and I think it is me adjusting to my new reality. Kind of tired of this reality though. Always the friend. I want to know what it’s like to have someone beside me, pressed against me with my arm around them. As foolish as it was, talking to someone let me imagine that stuff in the context of a real person. Knowing I would see her let me hope that I might find it. Even though I was told it wouldn’t happen, I couldn’t help but wonder about it and getting there and seeing it couldn’t be hurt some.
6-ish hours later and I’m still not sure. It’ll just take time. It will take far less time now than it has in the past. Really though, it’s not that bad. It’s just a readjustment. It’s foolish. I knew better, but parts of me won’t let it be. I think that instead of repeating things, I should take this in a new direction. I don’t yet know what I want to write, I just know I want to write.
I’ve never felt all that comfortable doing anything with a woman. Even this past weekend, I asked permission to touch her because I assumed she didn’t want me to. It was torturous to be so close to her each day knowing I couldn’t reach over and touch her. The only time I got to touch her (and not just in a sexual manner) was once we went to bed. We shared a bed each night I was there and it took 4 days before we slept together. I tried to, but she kept denying it. Even when I had my fingers or tongue in her, she said no. She came every night and I had to wait 3 nights and even that took coaxing. I was going out of my mind. I wanted her more than I have ever wanted before and I kept having to wait. I did understand the waiting, but it didn’t make it easier. It was physically painful and I didn’t know what to do.
It’s difficult to approach a woman when most of the times you have you were met with derision or snide looks/remarks. Seeing the eyes move up and down you as her brow furrows and her upper lip crawls up in a derisive manner is not easy to handle. I didn’t see these things this past weekend, but I also didn’t see a lot of happy looks. At most, I saw mild interest. I mostly just felt like I was there. It seemed to me it wouldn’t have mattered if I were there or not.
I wanted to feel special. I never get to feel special. I feel replaceable most times, like anybody that will listen could have taken my place. That may not be the reality of it, but it’s how I’ve felt. I just want to see a woman look at me and see that look in her eyes that tells me she gives a fuck that it’s me and is happy that it is me. I want to know what it is like to be desired. Part of me still wonders if I will ever see that and if I do, how long it will be before I do.
As a preface, I am nervous writing this blog. I know the other party will read it. However, I have to write it, no matter what. I’ve talked with her about it as I have talked with my closest friends about it, but now I need to put it on here. This is where I am most free. It’s not even that I can’t say this stuff in person, it’s that I have time to think writing it that I do not really get talking. I have better phrasing and expression here, though there will be a certain level of mania in this particular entry.
So, I came home from my trip a couple days early. It was unfortunate, but in order to save myself and the friendship, it had to happen. if I stayed, there was a strong possibility I would force myself into becoming very hurt, which would have destroyed the friendship. I didn’t know why I had to leave at the time. All I really knew is that something was wrong and I had to go. I gave opportunity to say the words that would keep me there, though I didn’t know what they were. In the end, there were no words that could be spoken that would have kept me, but I didn’t know that until later.
I will likely talk about what happened over the weekend more at a later date, but for now, I have to start at the end.
I left less than an hour after we finally slept together, though that was not the reason I left. We had already discussed my leaving the night prior and that morning and she was aware I would be going, but it happened anyways. I had finally lost my virginity. It was fun, but after 26 years, the build up of time had made it impossible to live up to. I learned much from the experience, but I am getting ahead (behind?) of myself.
It took me 400 miles and 7 hours to even start to understand what had happened over the weekend and why I had to leave. In truth, I’m still processing it all. I know the why and the how, but there is still much to analyze. I realized that I had spent the entire weekend denying a part of who I was in order to finally be able to lose my virginity. I learned that one of my base desires is intimacy. I need to touch the person. I need to be able to hold them and kiss them and have them next to me. Really, it should not have been something I was surprised to find. I have always written about wanting those things, but I was not aware that it was so deep that I could not turn it off. Because I was trying to deny it to conform to what she wanted, it was causing a lot of internal strife. It was becoming physically painful to sit near her knowing I couldn’t touch her. It was also detrimental to how I viewed her. It wasn’t really fair to either of us and would end up hurting everything. leaving was the only viable choice. If I had stayed, it may have been okay, but I risked a great deal of pain for myself and destroying a very good friendship that I had and need.
I have to pause. I’m not writing now. This has become an outpouring of my internal dialogue surrounding the issue. I’m still working on it all. I have come to a certain kind peace with it. Part of it does still hurt, but it is not the soul wounding it has been in the past. I did learn much from the trip (more than detailed in the last entry), but… there is still some pain. It was a good trip, and I am happy for it, but now it means I am still looking. Which is a slightly foolish statement. I knew she wasn’t who I was looking for, but that deeper part of me couldn’t accept it until I got there and saw.
On the trip, I had to reconcile who she was with who she had become in my mind, which is never an easy thing. It’s something that shouldn’t happen, but I have spent my entire life within my head. I have lived innumerable lives within my mind. I play everything out, though it never goes as I see. When I had no one, I still had my mind, so I turned there to get through the insufferable loneliness. I’m still learning how to get out of my head so much and just do stuff. It’s not easy when it’s all you’ve really known. I’ve pretty much always been that way. I don’t remember having imaginary friends, but I definitely spent more time inventing stories with toys than playing with other kids.
I know now more than ever that I need to find someone that can share with me the things I need. The subject of codependency came up this weekend. It’s a definite possibility, but I don’t know that it is entirely true. Yes, I do feel like I need someone in my life, but I think it is more than a codependent need. I have always felt that I was not made to be single. I’ve always felt that I need someone in my life. I don’t need her to take care of me and push me, because I can do those things, but I want someone that will. I don’t know, really. I do know I need someone. In spite of the disconnect, I did feel better near someone.
In truth, I have no idea right now. I want to write, and I want to be coherent, but those things can’t mix right now. I’ve gotten lost and diverted so many times tonight that I have no clue if this will make any sort of sense. I’ll post it anyways, because coherent or not, it has been good. In an odd twist, I think I talked this all through in person better than I did writing it, though I did not attempt to go into such depth in person.
This doesn’t feel like the place to stop. So much more wants out. There are things I have yet to cover and things I didn’t intend to cover. I… I do not know. It is all very confusing. I am at a sort of peace with what happened and am glad that it happened, but there are still things I need to suss out. I’m sure they will make up other blogs, there are always other blogs.
Because of the trip, I do feel ready to move onto other things. I am going to try and move back to California. I have no idea when it will be or if that is where I will actually go, but I will leave Oregon. It is too small for me. For now, the thought that I will go is enough. I’ll figure out the rest later.