When I met you, I had never been on a date before. You were my first – despite being over 40 and having been married for almost 15 years. I fell in love with my husband when I was so young that I never really dated. I had boyfriends in highschool and college, but no one dated. We hung out, we hooked up.
And then at 41, I found myself newly separated, on a dating website, and there you were. I wasn’t even sure if you appealed to me and some of your answers to many of those questions scared me a little, but we both had kids, were around the same age and were lawyers so I thought how bad could it be.
That first date, I was so nervous. I changed my outfit a hundred times. I was purposefully late because I didn’t know if I could go through with it. I talked to my girlfriend on the phone the whole way to the bar. And finally, after all my worrying, there you were.
We had fun. We talked a lot. We shared some things. We found common ground. We laughed. We flirted. We drank too much. And then we took a walk in the park and kissed on the bench and though I swore I wasn’t going to sleep with you, I took you home that very first night because I wanted you so very bad. All the ache inside me turned to want, turned towards you.
You made me feel alive. You made me feel wanted. You made me feel good. I was hungry for you, for the way you made me feel, for what you made me feel, and for what you represented. And I couldn’t get enough and I kept coming back for more.
You, with your endless excuses and lies – the ones I called you out on and the ones I didn’t. Your selfishness, your self-centeredness. Your constant bullshit. You weren’t real. Hardly ever. But I was not deterred because I lusted for you, I had to have you, I had to give myself to you. When I was with you, I thought of nothing but the carnal, the physical, of desire, of want. I felt nothing and everything. I was with you but alone.
It took me a very long time to stop coming back for more, to stop begging you to talk to me, to see me. I couldn’t let go of the thought that if I could just be with you again, I could feel good. I could be wanted. I could be needed. I could give and I could tend. I could fill the emptiness inside of me – the dark space that I kept forgetting grew bigger each time you left me and lied to me.
But I did it. Not by choice, really. I had enough though I guess that I couldn’t bear the humiliation any longer. And now I am finding love again, a love I hadn’t forgotten but always knew was there. I am finding my way again. I will love and be loved because that is who I am.
And you, even if you are with someone, you will always be alone because you are utterly incapable of being anything to anyone.