trigger happy

As I already knew, today has confirmed that I am indeed a royal mess.

And no, I’m not beating up on myself. I’m not sobbing (though I have shed several tears this afternoon). I’m not hysterical or anything.

Just a mess—as per normal.

A mess who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

When Chad left, I’d felt him be very different for a few weeks. I had finally learned what he needed. When he was figuring something out, he needed his space to figure it out. When he did, he’d tell me. I’d done such a good job. Worrying about it, but not bothering him to tell me what was wrong. For some reason, I got in my head that he was not attracted to me because I’d had a beard for a couple weeks. That came from nowhere, but it was the only thing I’d figured out that was different. I shaved. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I finally asked him to at least give me an idea of what was going on inside of him. Thus started the conversation that lead to him leaving me. Shut the fuck up, Brandon.

Today, as soon as I finished blogging, I knew I would not be able to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t. Very nicely, the boy told me that obviously I should run. He is no longer coming for the weekend. Shut the fuck up, Brandon!

It’s Thursday and I’m already looking forward to being back at work on Monday.

I’m relieved. I’m not going to fall into a similar relationship like I had before with the first boyfriend. Not that this would have been, but in my mind that was being triggered.

I’m so greatly disappointed. I’ve loved talking to him for hours every night. I wanted a weekend filled with kissing, bubble baths, holding hands, falling asleep in a beautiful man’s arms, feeling cared about.

Was it real feelings for him or was I reliving Chad?

Either way, him ending things saddened me for not getting the chance to discover more of him, but also triggered the feelings of Chad leaving, which is where I went for a couple hours after our phone call ended.

I could call and beg him to still come down, but I know I’d just freak out again. Everyone, I’m sure, knew I wasn’t ready to give this a try. I should have too, and I guess I should be glad that he walked away before I had to hurt us both even more.

I can’t tell one emotion from the other anymore. I can’t tell what is real and what is simply baggage from the past. What is love (or the inkling thereof) or what is displaced love for Chad. (Who, once again, contacted me on a day when I was making very big romantic decisions—every single fucking time!)

So, relief over not having to figure things out (coward), loneliness for the boy I hoped to spend the weekend with and the man I had planned to spend my life with. Confusion over absolutely everything else.