(Thanks, Kaylie, for getting me on this train of thought)
I haven’t made any New Years resolutions in, well, years. Not because I haven’t thought of it, I did, I have. Every single time January 1 rolls around, I’m wondering about it. I don’t make any, because I never stick to any, because I make ridiculous, impossible new years resolutions. Like finish a novel. I may as well have scribbled down climb Mt. Everest.
But there is something that’s been on my mind for a couple months now. I was in the Fiction Writing department, on one of the infamous purple couches, talking to Vince, a beloved friend of mine. The conversation meandered to his thoughts on his troubled relationship with his girlfriend—exgirlfriend?—even he wasn’t really sure. He looked me right in the face, as stoic as he usually is, and said “Chelsey, I think I just need to be abstinent for a while.”
I’m fairly sure a past version of me would laugh at this. The idea of giving up sex sounds torturous. In my last serious relationship, that was all that had remained good and steady. Then again, it’s likely the very same reason why that terrible shit-hole of said relationship went on a hell of a lot longer than it should have. I let fantastic sex downplay everything else that was wrong between me and my boyfriend, which was…everything.
So when Vince looked at me and said this, I did not laugh. I understood. Sex can cloud anyone’s judgment, I get it. But my romantic issues dive deeper than that. To me, the sex aspect of a relationship is too easy. I don’t get emotional over it, I don’t get attached. This is not to say I don’t feel shitty after a one night stand, because I do. I tried it once, and I hated it. But there are two sides of my affection: the physical side, and the mental side. If I’m with a person I have affection for, I will look much the same as any woman. My eyes will be big and bright, I’ll nuzzle my face in theirs, kiss their noses. To an outsider, to that person, I will look dumbstruck and insane with like, just like everybody else does, maybe just like them.
But my physical affection means very little to me. No, I don’t try to mislead people with it, or manipulate them. What I mean is, the physical affection comes first with me, but it doesn’t necessarily mean my mental affection will follow. And it absolutely needs to follow. Otherwise, I am a hollow woman you’re laying in bed with. My arms will be there, around you, but my mind will be a million miles off. And that mind is the real gem in the equation. It trumps any sex I could ever give.
But how to gain my mental affection? Well, that is the ultimate question. I can’t tell you, because I’m not really sure myself. All I know is it must be done easily, naturally, and without mercy.
I looked back at Vince and said “I don’t think it’s sex I need to give up. I just need to start seeing relationships as something sacred again.”
And as soon as I said it, I felt revelation in my fingertips. Because I have been in this room countless times, talking to countless guys, admiring their face, and their voice, their tattoos, but simultaneously knowing my mind was not engaged. They didn’t ask the right questions, they couldn’t bring me to talk about anything that truly matters to me. And knowing this, going in, I’d seek it out anyway. I’d let my physically affectionate side take over while my mental self pouted in the corner because another dude couldn’t beat me at my own game. It’s not that I felt dirty, or used afterward. It’s simply that I wasn’t fulfilled. And THAT is my issue. Guys are sometimes like socks to me. I find a bright colored pair, put them on for the day. They lose their brightness, my attention, and they are peeled off, discarded. Man, I just realized that I’m definitely not convincing anybody else on the fact that I truly try not to manipulate men. I know it sounds like I do, but I really don’t. They want to be put on, those socks.
That’s all they are. Things in which to entertain me. Names in a journal. Fleeting emotions I can hardly recall, because in the grand scheme of things they are in no way significant. That’s my problem. That’s the thing I must resolve.
And I’ve started to. I have begun to see relations as something sacred again. I’ve slowed myself down, I’ve picked apart brains, trying to find that vague something or other that I’m actually looking for. Somebody who gains my brain’s affections first. And I may have found that person, finally. Because I’ve been cautious, and patient, and honest. I don’t want a pile of laundry, I want tried and true companionship. And I’ll be as distant and alone as I have to be before I find it.
