Behaving Recklessly.

He was the first man I met on match and I let him come over to the house. I suppose I was feeling risky. Most of our time spent together was risky. Too much drinking, sex too quickly. I suppose I was feeling lonely, or bored; likely both. I liked him instantly. I think I liked him. He wasn’t my typical type, not that I have one. I should say, he was not as good looking as I usually go for. Not as preppy but smart. Not much ambition at all and clearly broken. I think I liked how broken he seemed, it made me feel safe. When we kissed it felt like magic. I don’t say that generously. I’ve had long-term relationships with men who never sparked the kind of things I felt when I kissed him. It was all downhill after the first kiss. Two broken people convinced that they’d be hurt by one another, racing to see who could scare the other one away the fastest. I won. It took about a month and a half, but I won. I think the STI accusation is what finally did me in. They call them STIs now (sexually transmitted infections) rather than diseases. I guess this past week, while I was freaking out that I had contracted something from him the word infection might have seemed less terrifying than “disease”. Not really though. Before we got there, to the STI scare, we had pushed one another away in delightfully creative ways. He showed me his sad room in a sad apartment he rented from an older woman. He got limp the first time we had sex, then cried, and he also shared with me the porn scripts he authored. I tried to argue a position that required sympathizing with Hitler, I cried, I behaved manically. Still, it wasn’t until I texted him a 7 AM Monday morning accusation of having given me an STI did we finally collapse. I can’t tell if I feel sorry or relieved that it’s finally over. Relieved, I think. My vagina still burns. I took antibiotics for 3 STIs that I’m not even sure I have and have treated myself for a yeast infection, all to no avail. Tests come back early next week; I hope. They should have come back sooner. The waiting is killing me. I told him he was the only one I slept with in the last four months. That wasn’t true. He told me he was clean; I doubt that was true. I'll know soon, not soon enough. I’m sitting in a coffee shop outside a shopping center because I don’t want to go home alone. Maybe I just don’t want to be home, the alone part actually feels much safer than the alternative. There is some comfort in being around other people when you don’t really want to be ‘with’ other people. I think I kind of liked him. That was the problem. I behaved recklessly because I don’t really like living. That’s probably the problem. I can’t watch anymore TV; it all gives me anxiety. I hate going on dates, no one is as interesting as he seemed to be. Maybe it's just that no one made me feel safe while being reckless. That was a problem.

Submitted November 10, 2019 at 12:09AM

He was the first man I met on match and I let him come over to the house. I suppose I was feeling risky. Most of our time spent together was risky. Too much drinking, sex too quickly. I suppose I was feeling lonely, or bored; likely both. I liked him instantly. I think I liked him. He wasn’t my typical type, not that I have one. I should say, he was not as good looking as I usually go for. Not as preppy but smart. Not much ambition at all and clearly broken. I think I liked how broken he seemed, it made me feel safe. When we kissed it felt like magic. I don’t say that generously. I’ve had long-term relationships with men who never sparked the kind of things I felt when I kissed him. It was all downhill after the first kiss. Two broken people convinced that they’d be hurt by one another, racing to see who could scare the other one away the fastest. I won. It took about a month and a half, but I won. I think the STI accusation is what finally did me in. They call them STIs now (sexually transmitted infections) rather than diseases. I guess this past week, while I was freaking out that I had contracted something from him the word infection might have seemed less terrifying than “disease”. Not really though. Before we got there, to the STI scare, we had pushed one another away in delightfully creative ways. He showed me his sad room in a sad apartment he rented from an older woman. He got limp the first time we had sex, then cried, and he also shared with me the porn scripts he authored. I tried to argue a position that required sympathizing with Hitler, I cried, I behaved manically. Still, it wasn’t until I texted him a 7 AM Monday morning accusation of having given me an STI did we finally collapse. I can’t tell if I feel sorry or relieved that it’s finally over. Relieved, I think. My vagina still burns. I took antibiotics for 3 STIs that I’m not even sure I have and have treated myself for a yeast infection, all to no avail. Tests come back early next week; I hope. They should have come back sooner. The waiting is killing me. I told him he was the only one I slept with in the last four months. That wasn’t true. He told me he was clean; I doubt that was true. I'll know soon, not soon enough. I’m sitting in a coffee shop outside a shopping center because I don’t want to go home alone. Maybe I just don’t want to be home, the alone part actually feels much safer than the alternative. There is some comfort in being around other people when you don’t really want to be ‘with’ other people. I think I kind of liked him. That was the problem. I behaved recklessly because I don’t really like living. That’s probably the problem. I can’t watch anymore TV; it all gives me anxiety. I hate going on dates, no one is as interesting as he seemed to be. Maybe it's just that no one made me feel safe while being reckless. That was a problem.