It’s been about two weeks since I had the first date that I thought was successful, and four days since we last spoke. There still exists a little glimmer of hope within me that this dude will message again, but as time goes on, I think I just need to come to peace with the fact that I was used for sex.
That sounds so dramatic. It was completely consensual and fun. It was a choice and it was enjoyable. In a lot of ways, I like the fact that I’ve now slept with more than one person in my life (wow, 3!) because there’s less mystique around the whole concept.
I don’t like the fact that he was less chatty after we slept together. I don’t like the fact that it felt like it could have gone somewhere. I don’t like the fact that I feel easy and guilty and I’m still checking my WhatsApp – just in case he might have messaged and I didn’t see it.
My relationship with my ex boyfriend started in such a linear way, so I think I’ve expected any subsequent relationship to be easy as well. With the ex, we had four dates before we kissed. He asked me to be his girlfriend a week later. We slept together after. We were together for five years. Granted, we didn’t do the whole ‘marriage and babies’ thing. But the beginning at least was very straightforward.
So I think this has skewed me. I’d never had to do the serial dates and the little disappointments and the mini heartbreaks.
I have to keep reminding myself that it’s been less than a year since I was dumped. I don’t need to find my next person so swiftly. I can enjoy this stage or dating and meeting lots of people. I can enjoy the sleeping with people. (If only I could get rid of this stupid guilt).
A friend at work said that she likes this feeling. She likes the uncertainty that occurs before the mundanity sets in.
But maybe I’m just a mundane person.