I have been sleeping with/I don't really know what-ing the same guy for roughly a month and a half. I don't really know what to call any of it. I can't say dating, because we don't really date. We lay on his couch and watch movies, we eat dinners that he cooks, we have amazing sex and we smoke cigarettes. I can't say we are seeing each other, because that term feels far too serious. So, for now, I will just say we are 'sleeping together.'
I know it's sad to say, but this is kind of a three year record for me. I haven't consistently slept with anyone this long. And, get ready for this ... I have, sort of, only been having sex with him. I know, I said "sort of." There was this one thing. But, it was a few weeks ago. And, it was only one night. And, I am not sure that it really counts. Anyway, none of this matters. Now, to the point.
I was at said guys house one evening. We had just had another evening of movies, we had run out of cigarettes and we were, in all likelihood, looking forward to some really beautiful sex. When I say beautiful, I mean it. It's really amazing. If you don't remember, he's this guy. So, as I said, we had run out of cigarettes. Well, he had. I don't really smoke unless I'm with him, so I don't really buy. He was going to run to the store to buy some cigarettes. I wanted to shower, so I asked if it was okay if I showered while he ran to the store. He said no. He didn't leave people in his house. I jokingly asked if he didn't trust me with his stuff, and he clarified that he trusted me, he just didn't leave people alone in his home.
I really had no problem with this. It was no issue at all. I ended up showering and he ended up skipping the trip to the store altogether. None of it really mattered. But, it did make me think. While I showered, my brain wondered what harm he could possibly see in me staying in his home alone. The only thing I could really come up with was the rummage factor. I was fairly sure he wasn't worried about me stealing his things. So, he must have been worried that I would look through and/or at his things.
Fair enough. I can respect that. I do have some things that remain sacred to me: old journals, my vibrator. However, the thought of rummaging through someone else's things is repulsive to me. It actually gives me a bad feeling in my stomach. While I washed my parts, I wondered why the mere thought of snooping through someone's things made me so uneasy. Then, it came to me. I have played detective.
When my ex cheated on me, I went through his things. I went through his phone. I went through his apartment. And, after it was all said and done, I swore that I would never do that again. I didn't even have to swear it. It was just such an awful feeling, it stuck with me over the years. Whether it's growth or PTSD, I don't care.
I don't care what a man is hiding from me. Especially not this man. He is free to do as he chooses. I would rather not know about it, but he's free to do it. And that is the whole point. I would rather not know. I don't want to know the secrets. I don't ask about them, because I don't want to know. People are allowed their secrets with me. I don't want to know all of the details of my family member's personal lives. I am here if they need an ear, but I don't want to know what they don't want known. People keep things from each other. We all do it. It's not my job or my want to snoop around like Sherlock Holmes, trying to uncover the things that don't want to be uncovered. Thanks, but no thanks.
Part of me thinks this is why I don't have a relationship. But the fact is, even when I do have one, I won't be doing that shit. If I feel like I should leave, I'll leave. If something feels really wrong, it usually is. I don't need to find a pair of panties or a used condom. Actually, funny story, I did find a condom at his house. Didn't really find it, wasn't looking, I just stumbled upon it. And I asked NO questions. Because, I didn't want to know. I don't care where it came from. I'm just glad that we use them and if he is sleeping with other people, I am glad he's using them with the others, as well.
So, the bottom line is, I am choosing ignorance in areas that ignorance is safe. Yes, we are having sex. But, as long as we are wrapping it up, I don't have to know what he is doing with others. I certainly don't want to uncover his secrets. It's my job to police me, not the rest of the world. I just have to worry about my actions. And, it's hard enough for me to get to know people on the surface. I only need to know the things my partners tell me about themselves. The last thing I am going to do is attempt to unlock them any more quickly than they are unlocking themselves. Nothing good can ever come of forcing people to let you in faster than they want to let you in. I'm okay out here for now. What I don't know, will not hurt me out here.
I know it's sad to say, but this is kind of a three year record for me. I haven't consistently slept with anyone this long. And, get ready for this ... I have, sort of, only been having sex with him. I know, I said "sort of." There was this one thing. But, it was a few weeks ago. And, it was only one night. And, I am not sure that it really counts. Anyway, none of this matters. Now, to the point.
I was at said guys house one evening. We had just had another evening of movies, we had run out of cigarettes and we were, in all likelihood, looking forward to some really beautiful sex. When I say beautiful, I mean it. It's really amazing. If you don't remember, he's this guy. So, as I said, we had run out of cigarettes. Well, he had. I don't really smoke unless I'm with him, so I don't really buy. He was going to run to the store to buy some cigarettes. I wanted to shower, so I asked if it was okay if I showered while he ran to the store. He said no. He didn't leave people in his house. I jokingly asked if he didn't trust me with his stuff, and he clarified that he trusted me, he just didn't leave people alone in his home.
I really had no problem with this. It was no issue at all. I ended up showering and he ended up skipping the trip to the store altogether. None of it really mattered. But, it did make me think. While I showered, my brain wondered what harm he could possibly see in me staying in his home alone. The only thing I could really come up with was the rummage factor. I was fairly sure he wasn't worried about me stealing his things. So, he must have been worried that I would look through and/or at his things.
Fair enough. I can respect that. I do have some things that remain sacred to me: old journals, my vibrator. However, the thought of rummaging through someone else's things is repulsive to me. It actually gives me a bad feeling in my stomach. While I washed my parts, I wondered why the mere thought of snooping through someone's things made me so uneasy. Then, it came to me. I have played detective.
When my ex cheated on me, I went through his things. I went through his phone. I went through his apartment. And, after it was all said and done, I swore that I would never do that again. I didn't even have to swear it. It was just such an awful feeling, it stuck with me over the years. Whether it's growth or PTSD, I don't care.
I don't care what a man is hiding from me. Especially not this man. He is free to do as he chooses. I would rather not know about it, but he's free to do it. And that is the whole point. I would rather not know. I don't want to know the secrets. I don't ask about them, because I don't want to know. People are allowed their secrets with me. I don't want to know all of the details of my family member's personal lives. I am here if they need an ear, but I don't want to know what they don't want known. People keep things from each other. We all do it. It's not my job or my want to snoop around like Sherlock Holmes, trying to uncover the things that don't want to be uncovered. Thanks, but no thanks.
Part of me thinks this is why I don't have a relationship. But the fact is, even when I do have one, I won't be doing that shit. If I feel like I should leave, I'll leave. If something feels really wrong, it usually is. I don't need to find a pair of panties or a used condom. Actually, funny story, I did find a condom at his house. Didn't really find it, wasn't looking, I just stumbled upon it. And I asked NO questions. Because, I didn't want to know. I don't care where it came from. I'm just glad that we use them and if he is sleeping with other people, I am glad he's using them with the others, as well.
So, the bottom line is, I am choosing ignorance in areas that ignorance is safe. Yes, we are having sex. But, as long as we are wrapping it up, I don't have to know what he is doing with others. I certainly don't want to uncover his secrets. It's my job to police me, not the rest of the world. I just have to worry about my actions. And, it's hard enough for me to get to know people on the surface. I only need to know the things my partners tell me about themselves. The last thing I am going to do is attempt to unlock them any more quickly than they are unlocking themselves. Nothing good can ever come of forcing people to let you in faster than they want to let you in. I'm okay out here for now. What I don't know, will not hurt me out here.
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