I was married for seven years (the magical damn number), after a couple of years of married life, we got used to each other, with all the pros and cons that this usually entails... we were not a perfect couple and cultural differences didn't help, but we were two sexual scorpios understanding each other in the sac. My husband was the repressed type and if you think there's nothing appealing about that, well... let me tell you: this man has learn out of repression, the tantric gift of orgasm without ejaculation and can keep it going non stop, not to mention the fun I had teasing him and driving him to the edge... But what first atracts you from someone (usually the way in which he/she is "different"/ opposite to you), is for sure the first thing that turns against you when the honeymoon is over, and the line is so fine, that we didn't realized when was that we fell into inertia, since it was certainly not acceptance what we had accomplished.
One day, I receive the news that my little sister had leukemia. At certain age you're ready to cope with the loss of an elder, but when a younger loved one has a life threatening condition, it sweeps you off your feet. It was like a cosmic joke when the healthiest (mentally and physically: didn't drink; smoke; used drugs; etc.) member of my family, who's strong and beautiful (like if it matters), was suffering from a disease that not even the least healthy members of my family (ironically in the health field as well) had, inspite of a lifetime of smoking, drinking and stressing out. It was as if God was laughing on my face.
Besides the approppriate grief response in all its 4 stages (first denial, then anger, after bargain and finally acceptance), I was strangely liberated... now there was something more important to me in my life than myself, and that was a relief! I figured that this trascendance of the ego is what parents experience when they have a child. Finally I stopped thinking about it like something to do when "I grew up" and realized that you cannot take life for granted and that tomorrow is today.
My husband at the time, who was all about having a family, suddenly stopped touching me, and since I couldn't figure out how to immaculate conceive, after a WHOLE YEAR of not having sex and going to couples therapy (o mejor dicho: terapia de "pajera"*), I left.
So death doesn't need to be among the members of the couple, doesn't even need to be real, (my sister recuperated thank dog!), it just needs to be close enough for you to reasses your life and the most important thing in it: your relationship/s. It was the death of the marriage and it did us apart.
* "Pareja" means couple in Spanish, and "pajera" refers to masturbation, sometimes I invert the words implying that couple's therapy entails a certain degree of mental masturbation...
The dry spell...
After I got separated I spent 6 more months crying and after a long year of no sex, I was starting to have physical manifestations from the withdrawal: I was actually getting sick from chastity. So the necessity of a partner was greater since both needs: the physical hunger plus the emotional void, were potentializing each other in a way that it was a turn of, and in that pathetic state of affairs, I started an affair with my previous ex.
He had been the best sex ever had by that time and his function was to end the dry spell, which he kinda did, but after a couple of times, one night he's not in the mood... this had no precedence with him and in the past, I used to interpret this scenario as a good omen, as the turning point from dating into a relationship, the key that the guy wasn't in it just for the sex, what I fail to recognize this time, is that he just wasn't in it, period.
After my rebound/ relapse, I ended up falling for someone long distance: Uruguay (very long distance), but since I was considering moving back home (that's where I'm from), this sounded like the "ferpect" opportunity. This person was my twin brother's best friend, though for some strange reason, they were not speaking at the time... We sort of grew up together and we shared the same culture and similar values, so the interaction with him was easy on that front, it felt like home, so we fed the "realtionship" overseas online and through Skype hoping for the time I was gonna see him again (I can only speak for myself now).
The time came when my twin brother kill himself in an "accident", taking someone with him and leaving a son behind... so we all pretended to believe the story. I put my life on hold and rushed back to the wake/ funeral only to arrive when it was over. I was hoping to grief with my loved ones, just to find some of them on the denial stage and others on the anger phase, trying to justify his death by blaming the rest of us, including me. Between the jet lag, the unexpected nature of the circumstances, along with the fact that I hadn't seen the corps and the lack of tears in everyone else, (who were also under the shock and having to deal with forensics; police and sooo on), not to mention previous recent events: my sister leukemia and my divorce, I couldn't process the new information.
I was struggling to deal with death when all I needed was to celebrate love and life, so I run into my love's arms for consolation, to find myself wrapped in his sheets and facing rejection yet again. I guess the situation wasn't the most conductive to romance...
I headed back to the city in my plan for recuperation and healing. Soon after, I run into an old acquaintance whom we had sympathy in the past and now we were both free, so we reconnected. Before anything could happen, I ask a "friend" to accompany me to an event in which he was going to sing, but she waited till I had had to leave so she could through herself at him... Nothing really happened among them, yet it was enough for it to interrupt whatever we were about to start. I haven't seen any of them since and I heard that she's still trying to get over him! (not our friendship), and she's supposed to be a shrink... whatever.
I decided to finish with this need of relating to men that felt "familiar" to me, so I tried the internet. In the beginning I was innocent enough to contact one person at a time, like if the chances of meeting someone because you're "connecting" online would not be slim and like if the chances of really connecting with someone you meet, were more than slim. Anyway, when I realized that most of the people posting where more into the search that actually finding someone, I started to contact a lot of them, too many to keep track. I would exchange extense emails that most end up being just a waste of my time and energy, but just like looking for a job, it's a numbers game. With some of them, I'd went to "second base": phone!, though the neurosis of the city people and the phobia of connecting with an actual human being, kept most of the exchange in the form of text messages, which I don't resent, since most of the "misunderstandings" that were blamed on me, were very clearly written!
So I met with a lot of men, some nice people I didn't feel chemistry with, (because really, what are the chances), but that wasn't the problem, the problem was when we did have it, that's when you open a pandora box! and all the BS pours out!
I met this guy who after being a workoholic for most of his life, now had a place in the city, another on the beach and was ready, willing and able to settle down. Just that since he hadn't been in a relationship in quite a while, he didn't know how to go about it. His erratic behavior went from being hot and cold, up and down, in and out... The day came that he lift me in his arms and carry me to bed, did only what was pleasurable for him and when he was done, started giving me "morality" lessons!? that was worse that being rejected, that was to be used and rejected on top of it! so I dressed up and left in the middle of the night. Relationship my ass!
I had made a decision: I was going to stop looking for love in all the wrong places, from now on, I would only look for sex, and the wrong places are right for that...
The dry spell...
After I got separated I spent 6 more months crying and after a long year of no sex, I was starting to have physical manifestations from the withdrawal: I was actually getting sick from chastity. So the necessity of a partner was greater since both needs: the physical hunger plus the emotional void, were potentializing each other in a way that it was a turn of, and in that pathetic state of affairs, I started an affair with my previous ex.
He had been the best sex ever had by that time and his function was to end the dry spell, which he kinda did, but after a couple of times, one night he's not in the mood... this had no precedence with him and in the past, I used to interpret this scenario as a good omen, as the turning point from dating into a relationship, the key that the guy wasn't in it just for the sex, what I fail to recognize this time, is that he just wasn't in it, period.
After my rebound/ relapse, I ended up falling for someone long distance: Uruguay (very long distance), but since I was considering moving back home (that's where I'm from), this sounded like the "ferpect" opportunity. This person was my twin brother's best friend, though for some strange reason, they were not speaking at the time... We sort of grew up together and we shared the same culture and similar values, so the interaction with him was easy on that front, it felt like home, so we fed the "realtionship" overseas online and through Skype hoping for the time I was gonna see him again (I can only speak for myself now).
The time came when my twin brother kill himself in an "accident", taking someone with him and leaving a son behind... so we all pretended to believe the story. I put my life on hold and rushed back to the wake/ funeral only to arrive when it was over. I was hoping to grief with my loved ones, just to find some of them on the denial stage and others on the anger phase, trying to justify his death by blaming the rest of us, including me. Between the jet lag, the unexpected nature of the circumstances, along with the fact that I hadn't seen the corps and the lack of tears in everyone else, (who were also under the shock and having to deal with forensics; police and sooo on), not to mention previous recent events: my sister leukemia and my divorce, I couldn't process the new information.
I was struggling to deal with death when all I needed was to celebrate love and life, so I run into my love's arms for consolation, to find myself wrapped in his sheets and facing rejection yet again. I guess the situation wasn't the most conductive to romance...
I headed back to the city in my plan for recuperation and healing. Soon after, I run into an old acquaintance whom we had sympathy in the past and now we were both free, so we reconnected. Before anything could happen, I ask a "friend" to accompany me to an event in which he was going to sing, but she waited till I had had to leave so she could through herself at him... Nothing really happened among them, yet it was enough for it to interrupt whatever we were about to start. I haven't seen any of them since and I heard that she's still trying to get over him! (not our friendship), and she's supposed to be a shrink... whatever.
I decided to finish with this need of relating to men that felt "familiar" to me, so I tried the internet. In the beginning I was innocent enough to contact one person at a time, like if the chances of meeting someone because you're "connecting" online would not be slim and like if the chances of really connecting with someone you meet, were more than slim. Anyway, when I realized that most of the people posting where more into the search that actually finding someone, I started to contact a lot of them, too many to keep track. I would exchange extense emails that most end up being just a waste of my time and energy, but just like looking for a job, it's a numbers game. With some of them, I'd went to "second base": phone!, though the neurosis of the city people and the phobia of connecting with an actual human being, kept most of the exchange in the form of text messages, which I don't resent, since most of the "misunderstandings" that were blamed on me, were very clearly written!
So I met with a lot of men, some nice people I didn't feel chemistry with, (because really, what are the chances), but that wasn't the problem, the problem was when we did have it, that's when you open a pandora box! and all the BS pours out!
I met this guy who after being a workoholic for most of his life, now had a place in the city, another on the beach and was ready, willing and able to settle down. Just that since he hadn't been in a relationship in quite a while, he didn't know how to go about it. His erratic behavior went from being hot and cold, up and down, in and out... The day came that he lift me in his arms and carry me to bed, did only what was pleasurable for him and when he was done, started giving me "morality" lessons!? that was worse that being rejected, that was to be used and rejected on top of it! so I dressed up and left in the middle of the night. Relationship my ass!
I had made a decision: I was going to stop looking for love in all the wrong places, from now on, I would only look for sex, and the wrong places are right for that...
