What is this dating thing you speak of?

Complexity should be my middle name.  I no longer possess the ability to give a simple answer to a question or do that which millions of other women in my position seem to do without issue.

The more difficult the situation the more attractive it is to me, and frankly that is impeding my process into returning to the world of dating…..what ever that is in 2014.

In theory I simply should be able to throw on an outfit, have a good time and allow things to happen as they will.  In reality, this shit is tough.

Historically I’ve not had issue with attracting what I want and retaining it for as long as I want it.  In the present tense though, I seem to be missing my mojo.

It is not that people don’t knock on my door, rather when they knock I answer it awkwardly or not at all.  I invite them inside and then forget to ask them if they want something to drink.  I open the wood door, only to forget to unlock the screen door so they can enter…in short… I no longer know what it is like to navigate the world of dating and all of its variables.

While some might say I never knew, what is apparent to me is that if I once knew that shit is long forgotten.

I’ve been presented with people who fascinate me, and I’ve been unable to reach a connection to them.  Yes this Philadelphia winter looks like Buffalo, New York but since when does the weather slow your roll?

Yes I’ve been happily distracted learning more about my new family, and trying to identify who we are while at the same time resisting a label, and at the same time locating boundaries and ignoring them in the process.  A bit much? Perhaps, but there is little that I do these days that is not a bit much.

When my shrink asked me Thursday about my intimate life I gave him my best Clyde side eye level 3.  He chose to ask that question when there was about 15 minutes left in our session and that was my way of saying dude if you wanted to know you needed to start the hour with that info.  Perhaps then, and that is only a perhaps, I might be able to explain that I have no fucking clue what the hell is going on with my intimate life except that shit is going on.

There’s someone who intrigues me, even if he doesn’t trigger the kneel within me.  I simply can’t seem to navigate the ability to be in the same place at the same time with him and that is frustrating.

There’s another who makes me tingle.  I simply can’t seem to navigate the ability to hop on his penis and ride it.

There is my girlfriend.  I simply adore her and if I am being honest I am really falling for her.  Kind of hard too. Yet the complexity of all my situations combined with all her situations is something even I can’t explain…except I will not let her go.

Then you toss in the power exchange stuff that I need at this stage in my development and all of those people up there get juggled and  I am hoping not to drop a pin.

Then you toss in the silence stage of my “connection” with The Man and I fear to the point of being frozen that he will answer one of those text messages, and he will say what comes next, and then what?

It has never been more apparent to me than at this very moment that despite the familiarity and the comfort and the natural of The Man and I – our being together is toxic.  It is toxic in ways that it should not be, and it is dare I say dangerous.  It is toxic to me, because without exception I will throw away everything with the exception of Clyde to have that peace that comes with the chaos of us being together.

I suspect that if the doorbell rang right now that all the work I’ve done will be for naught because it seems impossible to utter that one word – no – to Him.  I’ve spent virtually all of my adult life in pursuit of what 2010 brought me, and then I had it, and then it was gone.  But having it – finally really and truly having it – closed the circle and fuck it all if I think that I don’t want to dive back in.  I do. And admission is the first step to recovery… except when I reminisce I realize I don’t want to recover as much as others want my recovery.

I want to tie off my arm and find that vein and push the needle all the way in and overdose on the perfection seen in my rose colored glasses.  That is part of how I know the healing is happening.  I am no longer focused on the loss and the pain, I’m remembering the unadulterated joy and peace.  I’m recalling all that was right, and using that to look to a future and the ability to find something bigger and better that eclipses that thing that was a 15 on a scale of 1 to 10.

So I inherently understand that healing is happening and I am one step closer to ….

And then I look at what is in front of me and realize I have so little knowledge and experience in nurturing and growing a relationship that is not a stop gap on the path back “home”.

And I also realize that I am unwilling to harm my girlfriend, and her boyfriend 🙂 – in the way I would if I allowed toxicity back into my space. There is no circumstance that exists that I will turn my back on all that is good right now for something and someone that was good for me once upon a time.

And I puff out my chest with pride at that accomplishment, because it is one that I’ve never achieved prior.  Mario still hates me to this day for not getting to this point before, but that is his cross to bear, and my karma to deal with.

So I go back to looking at what is in front of me.

I need to win the powerball to enable me to buy out contracts, and surround myself with those I love the most, those I lust after the most, and security to keep all that is not them away from my front or back doors.

And then… I understand that I do have them, and they are not leaving me, and I wonder now what?  I wonder now what because I understand that I really don’t know how to date — I know how to go hard in the paint and that’s it.  I don’t know how to go slowly I know how to dive right in even if I never learned to swim. I will break the surface, gasp for air, and then allow the under tow to pull me in further.

I know that I want to take this slowly with each and every one of them.  Then I ask myself when the fuck did I turn into this poly chick? For real and for serious though, I ask myself when did the switch happen to going from His one to theirs?  And how the hell is this the first time ever that its happened when I am allegedly this open minded chick who doesn’t believe in monogamy and thinks happiness is the most important thing of them all?

And why am I questioning all of this and not simply relaxing and enjoying the ride?

I have no fucking clue constant reader. My apologies.

 

Aphrodite Brown