Sex and the Single Soccer Mom

So, L is now deleted from all my social media accounts. I drove by his house and placed the movie he’d loaned me, sealed in a ziploc bag (to protect it from moisture) in his mailbox. I have not phoned, emailed or texted him. I was told by a friend that I was being “incredibly reasonable” and that he “got off light”, because I haven’t made a scene. To which I could easily reply: “What’s the point? Will it make him be a grown-up? Will he suddenly know that he wants to profess his love for me if I yell at him? Even if he did, would it suddenly make us compatible?” It is pointless…

Still, there is a big part of me right now that just wants to be the psycho. I want to scream and yell and cry and hit. I want to destroy his personal property. I want to tell him that he was an asshole and that he will, someday, regret casually throwing away someone who bent over backwards to love him. It doesn’t come along every day, afterall.

Then I’m reminded of a forbidden movie that I watched when I was younger. My parents had rented “Fatal Attraction”, a very R rated film that was off limits for me. Of course, when they left for work, I immediately flew to the VCR to find out what was so bad that I wasn’t supposed to watch it.  The sex scenes were, to my 15 year old virgin eyes, shocking and fascinating. However, what was also fascinating to me was the interplay between the male and female character. Married man, out to have some no-strings-attached fun, hooks up with someone who isn’t ready to go away quietly. Glenn Close was phenomenal in the role of the unbalanced woman who won’t take “Sorry, but it really didn’t mean anything” lightly. I can remember thinking that the man got a lot of what he deserved and maybe not quite as much as he should have. In the end, of course, it was the jilted, wronged, psycho bitch who gets drowned in the bathtub. It was a profound lesson (for at least a few years) for married men all over the country. It was also a profound lesson for a 15 year old girl in the double standards that exist between the sexes.

Another favorite film, Vanilla Sky, also has a line that I love. The character played by Cameron Diaz in the film, after being blown off after a night of “friends with benefits” sex, says, “When you sleep with someone, your body makes a promise, whether you do or not!”  Scientifically, it can be proven that hormones are released in the body during sex that cause attachment to form. Do we really need to wonder why we often feel confused after one night stands, trying to do the ridiculous friends with benefits role, or trying to be fuck buddies? Women are wired differently for sex. Yes, times have changed and women are trying to be as nonchalant and casual about sex as men. I’ve dipped my toe in that pool too. A few years of “sexual liberation” can’t erase centuries of programming and bio-chemical wiring.

So, do I really want to go psycho and pour out my rage and grief and boil his bunny (or dog, in this case)? Absolutely. Except for the dog boiling part; I was rather partial to that dog. The wounded part of me that feels angry and hurt absolutely wants to make him feel…something! I want him to not be so casual that he can make “Best of luck to you too” his last words to me. Most of me, though, just wishes it hadn’t come to this. Most of me wishes that we could hold each other and part as friends. A lot of me misses him and would love to erase the negativity. I just don’t know how. I am hurt and angry. He seems indifferent and doesn’t get it. We were never only friends.

What I truly wish is that I had stuck to my decision the end of last May. We had a good ending that neither of us stuck to. Now there is hurt and anger and bitterness, on my side at least. I have no idea, truly, what he is feeling. I can make guesses, based on history. Will they be right? Who knows? I simply know that I have so many good memories, that are now colored by the ugly way we parted. Yet if I erase the last 7 months, I would be erasing so much I learned about myself and so many beautiful moments. Sitting on patios in the summer, drinking and talking…getting ice cream and watching the sun set over the river…sitting in the jacuzzi tub at a B&B talking and holding each other…listening to him breathe at night while he slept with his arms around me. I suppose that I’ll have to, like every other relationship in my past, try to integrate the beautiful and the painful until it makes sense. I would love to have not lost the bond, which we had despite his protests. Yet a bond only works if both people want it.

So, in the end, I will be calm and not cause a scene. I will do nothing except quietly try to make better choices for myself. I will work on letting L go and try to do it with grace and love. I will work harder on wishing him happiness and to find some sense of direction and peace.

Tomorrow night I have reserved for me. I have been out until bedtime every single night since I ended things. I’ve not had time to process. Tomorrow night I am allowing myself the night to wallow. I will grieve and cry if I need to. I will play sad music and curl up on the couch and think of the times we spent together and what I will miss. I will drink wine, probably too much, and possibly write bad poetry. Tomorrow night is the night for grieving.

Then I am done. I’m sure I will still have grief and sadness. However, I refuse to allow myself to waste more time over this. I’ve spent months not really caring if I met someone else, because I was in love with L. Yet I have so much love to give, I’m really good at loving people and I have a hell of a package to offer the right man. I’ve accepted a second date with a sexy, quirky artist. I have dates with wonderful and connected friends to look forward to, friends who understand me and can value the friendship. I have a family that is incredible and two little girls who look to me to be their anchor and safety. Life is good, even with the pain that comes along with living life and taking risks.

This entry was posted on January 14, 2011 at 3:14 am and is filed under Dating. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.