This Time Last Year
Avah | June 11, 2008
A year ago I broke up with Jefferson in a very public and very emotionally charged fashion.
I tarnished his name and memory on the blog and cursed him out over e-mail. For a few short weeks I hated him. I hated his guts. I hated his mere existence. I hate the stain of him in my memory.
I was on a serious emotional roller coaster and it was an extremely hard time for me. This was a man I loved and I was torn apart over the pain I endured being with him.
After many weeks of e-mailing and thinking and more e-mailing, we decided to pursue a less intense, but still sexual relationship. I met him one evening late that summer, our first meeting after reconciling. I was nervous as fuck when I got to his door. I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision. I swore to myself when I broke up with him that it was final. That there was no going back.
I stood outside his door for a few minutes; pacing. Wondering if I shouldn’t just turn around and go home. The deciding factor in why I chose to re-enter his life? The fact we were having company that night. Who am I to disappoint CL guys? Ha. But seriously, if they weren’t part of the schedule, I might be in a very different place right now. I may not have gone back.
And for every good reason. A year later I still question that decision.
Except I know I wouldn’t have the friends I do now if it weren’t for that one moment in time. I don’t think I would’ve gone to Floating World, so I never would have met Jocasta and Zelda or Eileen and Maymay or Tilda. I never would have gone to sex camp and thus I’d never have met Desire, Match, or Prince (et al: all the other wonderful people from camp). I wouldn’t have become friends with Boymeat and Lolita. All these people I love and care about so much.
I owe all those relationships to the fact that I went back to him.
But it certainly doesn’t mean I have to stay with him. No, thankfully because I made so many wonderful friends, I feel strong enough to go out and explore and live my own adventures. And yay, that’s such a good thing, because I think we can all agree on the fact that being with Jefferson only stunts me. When I’m with him I can’t grow. And I can’t have grown and expect him to be at the same level as me anymore.
I haven’t decided what the appropriate direction is to take this post. I could be brutally honest (my personal favorite of course), polite (yawn), or just ignore the issues. But I think I’ll put a to be continued as I need to get to bed as I have a pretty full day tomorrow.
Feel free to start pondering. (Hint, read my twitters from Tuesday)
