One question that always seems to be asked by people when you’re getting to know them is if you’re married, or have a significant other. When you tell them you don’t some might just leave it there.
Other people might ask why not, or even ask if you’ve ever even had sex. (these people are just nosy) As if getting naked with someone and fooling around is a right of passage or something. Don’t get me wrong, sex is amazing. It’s an expression of love, a way to show someone what cannot be expressed with words.
I’m not extremely experienced in the realms of love or relationships. the first time I had sex, I had what in hindsight seemed like a pep talk with myself out loud while cuddling on my favorite chair with the girl I was talking to at the time. She had been hinting towards it for a couple of weeks, basically the whole time I had known her. A friend had introduced us under the pretext we would make a nice couple, but I had an excuse every time. either i didn’t have a condom, or my mother was home and upstairs and I was afraid she would hear us.
After two weeks of her asking and me making up excuses she had even talked to the friend that had set us up asking if there was something wrong with her, as if the reason i wouldn’t sleep with her was because of a defect in her being, and not an insecurity of myself. As I laid there with my head snuggled upon her chest I asked myself what was holding me back. Why was I afraid? In those moments I came to terms with myself. I realized I had wanted to show her how I felt about her, I wanted to make her feel good. I had the desire to bring her pleasure, and that was all I wanted to do in that moment.
For that moment I had forgotten my fears, and my Insecurities. I had decided to do something not just for me, but for her. An act of love, where time stood still and all that existed was the two of us, except there wasn’t too of us anymore but one living breathing organism, connected at the hips and maybe the heart too.
I never did finish that night, but I had given it my best and she had been fully satisfied, and couldn’t take much more. Not long after that it all fell apart, I had let my insecurities get the best of me, overthinking that I wasn’t good enough, I had tried to manipulate her into a relationship, when it had been too soon after she had just broken up from her last one. She told me to just leave her alone and I thought she was telling the truth, so I did. It had only been three days after I had slept with her It ended. She had told me she didn’t believe me about being a virgin, that she thought I had lied to her to get her into bed.. This wasn’t true and I had learned later on that she had wanted me to “fight for her”, to not stop talking to her, even though she had told me otherwise. In hindsight there where signs that she wasn’t the one, but I had overlooked them because of how much I just wanted something, someone to be with, as if it were a fairy tail come true.
I try to be more careful now but even then I still make mistakes, some I’ve made a couple of times, and hopefully I wont make them again someday. So when it comes down to it when people ask me why I’m not in a relationship I don’t know what to tell them, Its been years since the last one, and I’m afraid of getting too close too fast. Hopefully when the time is right I will know, and until then I will Keep growing and bettering myself.
Two months ago today I Buried my father. His death was unexpected, and I still don’t know what happened. Maybe I never will and I’m not sure I’m okay with that.I spent a lot of time fretting over weather or not it may have been suicide. Remembering back to when I was in high school and I found him on the couch one morning before school. He wasn’t dead, no just snoring loudly. Me and my mother had tried to wake him but it was like trying to wake one of those Easter island heads. Unlike in the movie night at the museum they wont call you dum dum and wont pester you for bubble gum. Since i was running late for school already we decided it was best to have her drop me off and if he was still there when she got back to maybe consider calling 911. after she had dropped me off and returned home she had found him on the floor and where he had been laying where empty prescription bottles and his bible. he spent a couple days in an coma in the hospital followed by a couple weeks for pneumonia caused by having his head in the leather couch. we avoided sitting in that spot like it was the plague. Just the memory of what had happened that September morning brought an uneasy feeling. When we had asked him why he was hesitant to tell, and the answer at the time was that someone had been outside the house tapping on the windows, telling him to rob a bank or they would kill his family. If this was a true event it would scare anyone with a family and maybe even some of those who don’t, but alas it was far fetched and didn’t have any supporting evidence. that morning was September 12, three days after my 16th birthday, for a time I sarcastically called it the best gift he ever gave me. I never really understood my father, or appreciated him when he was alive. For a couple months before his death I had ignored his calls and texts, going to visit him only left me feeling sad. I couldn’t remember the last time i had seen him truly happy or smile. I had wanted to try and get dim sum from china town with him like we use to do what I was young. I had texted him a couple days before his body was found asking if they where still opened. He told me he believed they where but had not been there for a long time. I never responded to his message. I had wanted to but instead of replying right away I had just procrastinated. I may have had pure intentions to begin with but ended up tainting it. During the eulogy given by my fathers cousins husband, Joe my father was spoken very highly of. I had trouble believing that he was the man being described. Was there a side of my father I had not seen or perhaps overlooked? If I had been asked to give a eulogy for my father I don’t know what I would have said. Growing up with him had not been easy as his paranoia and delusions become more frequent. no matter what medications he was put on, even if things seemed to be going well for a time it never lasted. I’m not sure i would call my father a good man, at the same time I wouldn’t call myself one either, but perhaps its only my perspective and not the whole picture.