I was thinking more about Roy and our affair, today in the car as I was driving. My usual thing is to look back on events like that and take blame and feel guilt and shame. And today when I was thinking about it, I was like, “Fuck that.”
He was older. he should have known better, he could’ve stopped himself, blah, blah, blah. This is completely out of character for me. But you know, my usual habits have not really served me all that well, so there.
I don’t really even think that stuff. I’m sure he was just as fucked up as I was. But it made me feel better to blame someone other than myself anyway. I need practice placing blame where it actually belongs and I transferred that feeling to my parents and it worked. Because when I drive my mind goes all over the place and I made that jump. The cool thing was, I didn’t feel like a horrible person for placing blame, in either scenario.
Anyway, back to Roy…and me. It’s weird the way I think about him. I don’t think about him much at all. I don’t sit around missing him and I don’t really regret what happened. I don’t even remember his last name. He was a gorgeous man I thought of as being out of my league and I had the chance to hang out with him. The sex was fun.
At the time, when all that crap I wrote about in the previous post went down, I did feel devastated. But he was never really available anyway. And you know, neither was I.
I was a year away from experiencing deep depression and being aware of it. I was already depressed but didn’t have the words to describe what I was feeling. At the age of 20, I’m truly surprised, when I think about how dark things were for me, that I didn’t attempt suicide. But that didn’t have to do with Roy.
In fact when I was “dating” Roy, I was actually seeing two other guys. I was somewhat of a player myself, I guess you could say. But it was a matter of confusion than anything else. PLUS I wasn’t married.
I had asked Roy, while lying in bed together at his shore house that weekend, if he’d stop seeing me if I was seeing other people. I figured it wouldn’t really matter since he was married. He said, “Yeah, I probably would.” And so I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. But that was only because he was married.
I don’t know he didn’t know though, when, he’d seen me drive away from the restaurant one day with, Tom, one of the guys I was seeing. I remember feeling sad when I got into his truck because I really wanted to be with Roy.
Roy waved as he stood next to Dianne on the loading dock and Tom and I drove away. Dianne had a huge grin on her face.
The relationship between Tom and me had become long distance. But we dated rather seriously when I was 18 until he moved away about a year later. I cheated on him early in our relationship with someone I’d known previously and I almost lost him.
Things were really good between us (well, my perception of good anyway) when Tom moved three hours away and I had no car. That was difficult. I still remember how sad I was the last night I saw him previous to his move.
We still talked a lot on the phone and he came up to visit a lot. Later when I did get a car, I started going down there on a regular basis. I used to love to drive down and spend weekends down there. He and I had a lot of fun together. He still came up for visits too. But there were certainly rough patches and I sabotaged things there myself.
I also dated another guy, Tim. I had actually dated him for a short time before dating and getting serious with Tom. At the time I was dating Tim, Tom and I were friends and hung out with some of the same people. I also had fun with Tim but that relationship had more rough patches than the one between Tom and me. And Tim had many more issues than Tom did. Tim wasn’t as easy going although he had a great sense of humor. Tom was funny as hell and would have me belly laughing a lot.
Tim could be abusive. Tom was unavailable in other ways. (But he wasn’t married.)
I would push them both away and pull them both back in. And not usually simultaneously. Different things took place internally for me at different times. Tom would start to get on my nerves and I’d stop seeing him for a while and then I’d spend time with Tim. Then I’d either begin to feel engulfed or tired of Tim too and go back to seeing Tom for a bit.
I would sabotage in other ways as well, like, confessing things I felt guilty about to each of them. I would sit and write long tormented letters about each thought I felt awful for, or something I’d said that I felt might be deemed as disrespectful. I had this obsession with being completely honest so that they knew every nook of my brain, no matter how hurtful what I told them was.
I’ve always had a difficult time explaining this. I’m not sure anyone else has ever dealt with this. I never wanted to deliberately hurt them. The reason was about being honest. I figured if they stayed with me after I was honest, at least I gave them all the details to make an informed decision then I’d done the right thing. And if they still loved me after I was honest then I wasn’t bad after all. Problem was, those letters became never ending.
Each time I wrote one thought down, another one would pop into my head and I’d continue to spiral down with each thought or deed I felt the need to write down. And it just kept going. I’d write endless letters and a lot of times, I found myself squeezing in sentences where I’d forgotten to write them previously, crowding words together so tight, it would make some of the letter unreadable.
Those letters caused a ton of anger within the receiver and a lot of tears from me.
I can feel a tinge of shame, but mostly I feel sad for the young woman who felt the need to confess every adverse thought she had about her boyfriends. I grieve for her and all that lost time sitting on her bed, chain smoking cigarettes, as I wrote endless pages of dark and hurtful thoughts.
I read recently about it, although I don’t remember where or what I’d been looking up. And the article wasn’t about the same scenario I went through. But the explanation was similar enough for me to make a connection. So I got to learn that wasn’t really my fault either. It turns out that there is a good chance there was a nutritional deficiency that caused me to behave like that.