This what my friend Shareen said about me once. I am almost exactly twenty-four hours out of an on-again off-again long-distance two-and-a-half year relationship. That is all the detail you’re going to hear about it, because if I had the energy to relay more, then I would probably still be using that energy to try and make it work. So it’s done. Onward and upward.
I joined an online dating site I swore I’d never join. This is how I described myself:
« I swore I would NEVER join this site which is exactly why I am forcing myself to do so now, as clearly whatever I was doing before is no longer working, is it? I am not on a quest for something/someone specific. But I am newly single and bored and would like to get out and do something. I will not describe my best qualities or what a perfect date would be. That is absolutely ridiculous and I simply refuse. But if you want to have a real conversation about real things in the world or do something fun rather than sit and have a painful interview, then that would be super duper. »
That should be rich fishing for future blogs, pardon the pun.
I had been on the fence about where to go this summer during my 9 weeks of vacation. I spent last summer in Paris. Predictably, cheesily, I left my heart there! So most signs were pointing to returning there. But the ex wanted me to go to Australia and wait one month for him there while he was still away at work and then he would come and spend the second month with me. I was torn. Now I’m not. I’m going to Paris. In just one day, I already have my accommodations secured for six-and-a-half of the nine weeks as well as a part-time waitressing gig set up. I know, I know. Everybody loves Paris. But does everybody get to spend their summers there? That’s right. Bitches.
Last summer in Paris I wrote a seventy-two-thousand word memoir slash reflection on life and its many undermentioned, undernoticed joys. Treasures. Fascinating art and depth in the most likely, but unnoticed places. I tried to begin editing it when I got back but within days had slashed ten thousand words. I realized I needed to let it go, separate myself from it, let it rise like bread, and return to it later when it was no longer a part of me, and finally ready to be baked. I feel that time is coming soon.
Of course this summer in Paris will be but phenomenal food for future blogs, as well.
I read my first erotica novel on my way to Paris over winter break, where and when I spent another two weeks. It catapulted me into an internal state of frenzy and my then-bf reaped the benefits through very dirty and scandalous Skype calls. I wrote my first piece of erotica, « Red wine, raging slut, » a title that I both love and crack up at, which is currently sitting at just over seven thousand words. It isn’t finished; maybe two thousand words more. When I asked my ex how he would feel about me writing erotica and trying to publish it, he responded: Well it would be about me, right? I responded: Well, it’s fake. I knew at that moment that I could never write hypothetical sex stories; it would only cause problems. See. Relationships impose limitations, of course; some healthy, some that stifle. I often felt that being in a relationship imposed confines even on my writing. It was the restriction that bothered me the most.
Anyway, it’s a shame about the ex and I. I would have liked it to have worked out. I loved him, I’ll miss him. But it didn’t work out, it wasn’t going to work out, so there is no point devoting any more time or emotion toward it. It is best to set my sights and energy elsewhere, and like Shareen noted, I suppose I practice what I preach; and sooner than later. In fact it is easy to do when you know it is the right decision. Despite the sadness of our relationship ending, I can’t help but also feeling free, a sense of adventure, curiosity, and exploration returned.
I wonder. Is it possible to retain these liberties and desires and be in a sustainable relationship?