Touch Starved

Still meeting and unpacking with Dr. Q. I'm discussing dating a lot with her, probably more than I should. It's funny because with no real dating movement happening in my life, we still spend a lot of time talking about my past, current, and possible potential future. Crazy enough, we tend to touch on Fred at least once a session. He's always in the back of my head, even if I hate to admit it. She shocked me during our last session by stating "Birthday Bandit should never have been the person to break your celibacy. The only man close enough to you to warrant that was Fred." Damn. Most folks in my life tell me that Fred ain't the one, and he ain't. But he's always there in some way. Maybe she was right? Oh well, can't unring that birthday bell, even though I don't really consider that an actual sexual encounter (don't judge me, okay).

Anyway, I knew early on that this entire summer would be made up of me getting into any and every opportunity that presented itself. With that, I've also started being even more intentional about getting up with my people and being social. Among the new buddies is a woman I'll call Amber. She and I sat down over coffee recently and talked about her relationship stuff, and I unloaded on her about the Birthday Bandit. I'd admitted to her how the sex was pretty subpar, compared to what I was used to, but to be fair, I attribute it to the condom he wore. Then, I admitted something to her that I hadn't really pondered on too hard before. It wasn't the sex that had me (God knows)- it was the cuddling. The night of my birthday, when we'd landed in his bed, he squeezed me so tight. I was honestly a bit uncomfortable, but I held on, basking in it. It made me feel desired and wanted. It made me feel loved and coveted.

And while I haven't gone near anyone since, it was the memory of the cuddling that kept me from blocking him as soon as he started showing his ass. It took roughly a week before I knew that he'd outlived his usefulness and he was cancelled. I told Amber that while he was clearly not the person I was supposed to be with, I miss the feeling of strong arms around me, holding me and making me feel safe. I mean, whatever, I'll go without sex. We all know that I've done it before. But now I'm entering this space of just wanting to be held and cared for. Amber shocked me by saying "Aw. Sounds like you're touch starved."

I paused. I'd heard the term, but I'd never had a reason to connect to it until now. She was right. I wasn't horny, I didn't miss penetration, I missed the dopamine and serotonin that is created from feeling safe in a man's arms. I took that thought and I marinated on it. I even went down my internal rolodex of men I'd trust to cuddle with. 

And I started to miss him again. 

I know that he's not the one I should be thinking about like this. But the fact is that there aren't a lot of men I trust in that capacity. I know him. I know what he's capable of. I've realized that my relationship with sex and intimacy has changed after celibacy, and I just don't have the capacity to go kiss a bunch of frogs anymore. I'd rather be hugged and loved on by him than to roll the dice opening up to a new man and being disappointed all over again. I'm not sure if or when I'll date again, but as of right now, I just don't have the emotional space to see how another man can disappoint me.

On another note, a buddy in Los Angeles told me that he's finally getting into his apartment after a long journey and he told me that he'd like me to be present for his house warming party. I'm still turning up this summer, but his invitation touched me and I told him that I'd do everything in my power to attend. I'd already planned to go to Los Angeles at the end of the year, but I'm happy to have a good reason to fly back out earlier.

As I started to ponder on the invite (still waiting for the date), my mind began to wander to him. I envisioned myself sneaking through the front door of his secured building and knocking on his apartment door. I'd lean seductively on the door and ask if he was busy. *le sigh*

I'd also considered asking him to join me at the bar of whatever hotel I stay at. Or perhaps join me at my favorite L.A. steakhouse, Bossa Nova, as we sip cocktails while we talk and stare out the window at the traffic on Sunset Blvd.

I wonder what Fred would say?

I've tried so hard to move away from him. I've long since realized that he and I absolutely do not work. That man and I will not be falling in love and getting married. But the fact is that I've thought about him daily and I miss him terribly. I've contemplated calling him several times. But I was well aware that I'd told him that I no longer wished to be friends with him. I'd even completely erased his number from my phone to ensure that there would be no weak moments of contact. Once I started to get that itch, I called my bestie to ask for his number, and like any good friend, she told me no. I then asked another mutual friend, and like the girl code dictates, she too told me no.

I sat in gratitude for them. One day, I walked into my bedroom and looked on my dresser and saw my old phone. I already knew that if the day came, I could go into it to find the number. I held that knowledge and I'd occasionally look at that phone, taunting me with that hidden secret. Eventually I decided to open it up and get the number.

I held onto that number and saved it under "." in my current phone. I'd occasionally open up the dot and stare at it, wondering when or if I would ever be courageous enough to reach out. It was a weird space to be in. Would he even want to talk to me? At the same time, I mulled over Amber's observation. 

"Touch starved."

I know that Fred loves me. In his own lil twisted, fucked up way, he does. I've even heard my intuition tell me that he still thinks about me more often than I realize, although I'd questioned that account. Last night, I cracked. I called "."

He picked up immediately and said my first and last name. I froze. He said he'd call me back in a few. I held my breath, anticipating that he'd want me to twist in the wind. He called back in 3 minutes.

He congratulated me on the house and told me that he'd been meaning to send a house-warming gift and asked me questions about it. He apologized for things going the way that they did. I told him that I'll be in town some time next month and I'd like him to meet me for coffee or dinner. He told me that he'd love to.

Ugh, here we go again...