I’ve been pondering why I have the experience of being kind of terrified when people approach me romantically. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. I feel like a deer in headlights, and the result is usually me shying away slowly in some way, creating distance and more space between myself and the person sharing their feelings. That, or I pause in the moment and have to pragmatically talk myself into trying a new experience, meeting that person romantically in the way they’re asking. This is not conducive to building much, nor is it helpful when I also enjoy the person I’m spending time with (and perhaps also feel romantically toward). It takes a lot of time for me to know how to comfortably act on sexual queries with the vast majority of people. The conclusion I’ve come to about this is that the expectations which come with a desire for romance, as I’ve experienced many times in the past, often don’t make any sense to me. I fear the consequences of giving in to things that could just feel good.

In past relationships I’ve usually followed my partner’s lead in things. I practice asking for what I want when I feel like it’s getting stepped on. I prioritizing talking out the aspects of our relationship that aren’t meshing for me so those feelings won’t build up and eventually (inappropriately) explode over everything. Invariably, one day down the road of relating, the person I’ve been seeing says, “the rules have changed, this is how things are now…”. Usually they’ve cheated on me sexually or emotionally, or have been lying to me about any number of things. There’s often been little to no warning that our relationship is now over, no processing done between us leading up to this announcement, no admittance that something shifted for them at some point, or that they’ve been unhappy and not appropriately addressing it, or that their desire for something new or different took up residence behind the scenes without them keeping me in the loop. I simply get the announcement that things are different now. This scenario has played out multiple times in my life. I’ve learned not to trust people when they say they want me. I’ve learned to trust that a person who wants me doesn’t necessarily want me in the ways I want to be wanted.

I’m left feeling as though I’ve catered to desires and interests I shouldn’t have. I’ve catered to incorrect information and trusted people who are untrustworthy. I’ve been left feeling as though my relationship style of moving slowly and letting things develop over time and trying to be as “yes, and” as I can be with the people I care for is the wrong way to do things. But I like that way of loving.

I’m left wondering if I should be brutal, if I shouldn’t repress or minimize my desires when I have the sense my partner won’t like what I want or have to say, or that I shouldn’t try to process conflicts when they come up. It feels as though to get ahead in relationship I’m supposed to cheerfully run madly into the middle of chaos, caring about only the torch I hold, in order for my own needs to be met. If I’m called out for bad behavior I should double down and find people who will simply never question me… My impression looking around at how people treat one another (and how I’ve been treated), is that I shouldn’t care about how others suffer due to my actions, that my relationships should be about me solely, and that I shouldn’t have to fight for things to get better. I should favor abandoning ship the moment things are sticky, over fighting for evolution and deeper understanding. I should keep things light and easy, ignoring the stability of those around me in favor of getting my way. Finding middle ground and trying new things is for losers. I shouldn’t care for others at all in order to successfully build a long standing relationship. I should be more petty, I should cheat. I should be a person capable of intentionally hurting others in order not to have to deal with my own hardships…

But I don’t want to be in a relationship like that. I don’t want to act those ways.

In that moment of declaration that “everything has changed”, I’ve been left to swallow the lies and half-truths I’ve been fed, along with the illusions I had about where we were going and what we were building. Time over time I’ve accepted this brutality, packed up, and gone away. I know how to find what I need to survive. I’m tired of surviving.

Reasonably, I’ll be angry for a time. Depressed. I will question my place as someone worthy of love. I’ll beat myself up for being too difficult, too hyper-vigilant, too needy when it comes to processing… too… anything and everything. Not enough. Too much.

I’ve been through it before, and I’m stronger than the story of someone’s desire to use me as they see fit. I don’t fall out of love, because that’s not the way my heart works, but in short time I’ll be glad we’re apart and I won’t desire reentering the sphere of that person’s limitations and lies. It isn’t healthy for me.

Yet, sometimes I just want to be in love. I want people in my life who adore and prioritize me. I want people who understand the language of processing and who are willing to sort through triggers and fears to come clean with me and make things better when they’re difficult. I want people in my life who care for my heart the way I want it to be cared for. I ache for true openness over half lies and cheating. I know that lies come from the limitations of another person, but that doesn’t stop them from deeply affecting me. Us. The investment of loving. Hurting what we have—or could. Hurting the choices I make for myself in consideration of where I think we’re heading.

I’m not a perfect being. I have lots of sexual baggage and people often make me tired. I need a vast amount of space or I get irritated easily. I need people to be on time and communicate expectations clearly. I want regular buddies for dates and cuddles and fucking and dreaming, and those people are not one person. I want to be loved for the wild feral critter that I am, instead of expected to act as others desire me to be, or be tamed. I want to celebrate fuck-ups with supportive conversations, understanding head nods, the consolation prize of vegan ice cream, and holding onto one another because we’re human and expectations are ghosts, not real things. I want to set new expectations. Together. I want to evolve with one another, and have shared heartbreak when we part ways, and for things to be truly amicable. I want to adventure, to wrestle with what sucks, and re-boot the things that make us love one another when needed—keep at the puzzle of our overlapping lives when we don’t know every answer. I want kink and perversity and depravity and sweetness so subtle it brings one to their knees with tears and a grateful heart. I want kindness.

I want kindness most of all—not the cowardly anti-kindnesses people pretend they’re enacting when they make omissions of truth to protect an image over reality. I want the kindness of brutal honestly, articulated emotional intelligence, and acknowledgment of real life’s rough complexity. I want the kindness of a tongue not afraid to speak its truth in the moment, and the kindness of thoughtfulness soothing the creases of our wadded up relationship in order to make space for adjustment. I want the kindness of agreeing and following through, or of working on new expectations when it’s clear that the path we’ve been on no longer serves.

I am not in anyone else’s head but my own, just as no one else is in mine. There will never be room in my heart for passive aggression, or meanness marked by a smile-buttoned lip pasted over malicious actions and sideways-shooting coping mechanisms. I work to understand and accept the person I care for who struggles with these things, as long as they also work to include me in the life we’re supposedly building. I want partners who will be upfront with me before they hit boiling point and everything is ruined.

You may be wondering, “what sparks this outpouring”? The answer is: I’ve been considering asking for romantic love again… after a number of years, I’m dating.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

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