Around the end of last year, I briefly dated a guy. For all of a week. I honestly don't know how to define what it was, and having never had anything serious to go on I have a limited frame of reference. It's just what I imagine having a boyfriend would be like, in the early stages of a relationship. This is probably the longest I've seen a single guy, except one. A week. Not out of any specific desire for these brief flings, but a general inability to maintain even the most superficial relationships with other people.
Things with T.S. progressed really quickly. Normally if I go on a date with someone (as opposed to hooking up), I'll see them a week or so later if I see them again at all. Two dates is usually the limit, it never works out beyond that. With T.S., the second was two days later. The first date had been pretty innocent, and the second only ended with making out.
The third was spent primarily in his bed watching films, in between bouts of fooling around. Which was still rather innocent compared to what I'm usually like. Didn't fuck, get fucked, and the closest I got to rimming him was kissing his arse. It was mainly making out, feeling each other up, and sucking and wanking. Neither of us came. There were other people in the house, and once they'd woken up (having been working nights) that pretty much put a stop to any idea of sex. Not a problem for some, I imagine, but I prefer a bit more privacy when having sex.
The forth went back to the pattern of the first. The fifth had been better in that sense, since it actually involved making out a lot more (mainly whenever we could get the time alone, or when passing like a couple would do). Not that any of the innocent days before had been bad, but making out was a nice addition. We spent the night at his friend's flat, while she was out for the night. That night followed the third date's lead. There was more of a push towards actually fucking, but probably due to the location we didn't go all the way. It was mainly him getting me on my back, lifting my legs up and teasing my arse with his cock. I was too tired and drunk to really do much, but I liked him doing that.
The fifth date lasted two days, but was also the last I saw of him. The final time we spend together was sitting on a station bench waiting for a train. There was a slightly daring side to him, in that he'd kiss at the end of the night regardless of there being people around. Affection in private can be a struggle for me at times, so this was a shock but a pleasant one.
But after everything seeming to be going well, it just seemed to die. There were a few messages exchanged, where he shared some news regarding troubles with work he'd been having. But after that I'd not heard anything back from him. That made me think that it's pretty much over. Then I tried to think of other possibilities. Maybe it isn't over, maybe he just lost his phone. But he has other ways of getting in touch with me, yet still nothing. He had talked before about not being used to having relationships, of freaking out and ending things. Not usually at such an early point as with us.
While I had mentioned a bit here not knowing if I wanted a proper relationship or not, after having experienced it--to the best of my knowledge of what 'it' is like--I find that I did like it. That it's not as terrifying as I might have imagined, and I am willing to have a go at it. And that I miss it now it's gone.
My focus now is trying to find the strength not to let a setback like this drag me down, and to move on having hopefully grown or learnt something about myself from this. But I didn't want all the new connections I've formed lately to end up like my past relationships. It's hard not to take the lesson that 'everything is going to end like this for you' from this.
So I took the initiative for a change and contacted him asking if he wanted to meet up. I did have the hope that we might pick up where we left off. I don't expect it to last forever anyway, but I would be open to it even if just for a few months.
The reaction was disappointing. I don't know how much of it is my projecting my own feelings onto reality, but there is something cold about his replies. Like he isn't the same guy who smiled at me and wanted to see me again as soon as he could. More like he didn't really want to be having this conversation at all (not that it was even anything heavy). I want to be strong, but I'm not there yet. My friends have tried to consoled me, tell me that it's his loss and I'll find someone better. But it doesn't feel like that. It feels like the one time things were looking like they were going my way, everything followed the same pattern of disappointment and eventual drifting apart that has happened with everyone in my life (barring family).
But I need to let go of this pessimistic way of seeing the world. Facing what seems like rejection is hard, and it can seem like you're that unlovable that no one is going to want to spend any time with you. But there are people, friends, who say they love me and want to be with me. I just need to accept that as reality and not try to doubt it.
But then two week, right before going to bed, I ended up crying my eyes out about the whole situation. When I thought I was over it, it seemed to hit me all over again.
I have abandoned any hopes of reconciliation at this point. I tried showing interest, he didn't show it back. Didn't even try to make any vague plans or agreements to see me again. Yet I still have his number in my phone. He took me off his friend list online, I haven't heard back from him in months, he didn't seem that interested when I contacted him. I supposed I don't have much reason to keep his number at this point.
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