Where to Draw the Line

It's been awhile I'm afraid. Not that I haven't had things to say, but finding the time, and a reliable internet connection has really cut back my posts. And honestly, things aren't much different now than they were a few months ago. Most girls will stab you in the back if they are given half a chance. Most guys will sleep with you and tell all of their friends. People will talk, even if what they are saying isn't true. But, despite all that, I have managed to find some true friends. People who do have my back. It seems, first impressions are definitely not always accurate.

So now, after reevaluating my opinions and views of the people around me, I find myself with a dilemma. I've been "The Other Woman" a few times, a few times too many. But never where an actual marriage was involved. In this life I'm currently living, where long distance is the name of the game, is crossing that line allowed? I used to live a very black and white life of right and wrong. I live in grey now. But even so, I'm not sure what to do here. Most would say, run away, as fast as you can. I'm pretty sure I don't have the guts to go through with it. Pretty sure.

Wake Up Call

What do you get when you take me, a bottle of rum (of which, I drank half), and then throw Alex into the mix? Frankly, a whole lot of trouble I really wasn't prepared for. We were making out before we even made it to the bar. I'd be lying if I said I could remember all of it. It's pretty fuzzy. And I don't even know what charming thing he said that made me WANT to kiss him. There must have been something. But again, I don't really remember. In fact, this is the second time in a matter of weeks where I was so drunk I couldn't even decide to kiss or not to kiss. And that's not like me.

I'm a firm believer that drinking alcohol, even large quantities of it, is not an excuse for doing what you know you shouldn't be doing. The time in New York, I really didn't end up doing anything too scandalous, and in the end, had enough sense to go home and not home with the guy. But the other night with Alex didn't end so simply.

I'm feeling pretty disappointed with myself. I really thought, going into that night, that I'd be able to resist whatever tact he chose to try and tempt me. I really thought I was done being THAT girl. Karma is a bitch, an absolute bitch. And I think I've got years and years of being cheated on in the future, because I am ALWAYS, ALWAYS the other woman. Always.

I thought that night, that the worst that could happen would be me drunk dialing someone who is clearly giving me little to no thought. And that it would be embarrassing in the end. Instead, I ran off with Alex and I can barely remember a good portion of it. My friends weren't even all that surprised that it happened. It's like they know me better than I do.

I'm dreading seeing him this week. Absolutely dreading it. We've known each other for almost a decade and I think he's pretty sure that this is the week I'll finally sleep with him. But what he doesn't know is that I won't. I absolutely won't. I won't drink and I won't do anything stupid. Because the other night is probably the first time I've ever regretted being with him. I've spent the past decade never doing anything I didn't want to do, but the other night, I don't feel like I was capable of making a decision and that's scary.

I need to stop drinking so much that I can't remember and can't make decisions. And soon, when I start my new job, that's going to be really important. I also need to do what I can to make sure that I'm not THAT girl. I don't owe anything to Alex's girlfriend, but I do owe something to myself. No woman deserves to be the OTHER woman.

The Men

Although I'm 25 and theoretically could have slept with half the country by now, there remain only a handful of guys who have had a lasting effect on my development.

One, Jake, my non boyfriend from high school, and a little dalliance in college, and also this summer. He has been there, somewhere, usually in the background, for the last ten years of my life.

Two, Alex, my non boyfriend from college. He slept with everyone, except me, because I wouldn't let him, despite all his charms. And that killed him. If there is one thing I've learned from my experience with Jake and Alex, it's that when a guy doesn't really love you, the quickest way to get rid of him is to sleep with him. And if you don't, he'll be there forever.

Alex is still around, whereas Jake has finally moved on. I'll let you do the math.

And third, there is Aidan, my first non-non boyfriend. My first everything really.

There are others, mostly one night drunken fumbles. But recently I've been thinking about how my relationship with Alex in college has possibly effected my behavior more than I realize. Alex was the guy that wanted to be a lover, wanted to do the pleasing (and then go love and please someone else).

And at nineteen, I didn't know a lot, but I knew that those things should be a two way street. So, with all of his skill and practice, I never let him truly please me. It was a power struggle, almost a game. I know part of me wanted the player to get played. There was a night when I decided that I was done with him--he got so upset, he fell down the stairs trying to get me to stay.

I know I felt powerful then. Like I had turned the tables. And even now, I know he'd cheat on his girlfriend if I'd let him. But I'm not nineteen anymore, and there's really no chance of that. I don't want a part of it.

But what I'm wondering is this: back then, all those years ago, did I somehow distance myself from sex and the emotion and feelings that go along with it? And if so, is that why I have not problems exactly, but issues with it now? Have I somehow made it all about power and not about love? And have I become a little more like Alex himself. I mean, not by numbers of conquests, but have I become the lover, the pleaser, the impervious one? And if so, what will it take to change that?

Lesser of Two Evils

I don't know which is worse:
Not getting a response to a message, or
Getting a 5-6 word response.

When I was in high school, my non-boyfriend went off to college and started up emailing me, presumably to keep the option open, should he come home on a slow weekend. Things progressed and eventually he was signing off with "love". Now to a naive seventeen year old, that's a pretty big deal. And ever since then, I've paid attention to how people end their emails. I don't know if that's common or uncommon, it's just what I do--and I especially take notice if the sign off changes as time goes by. Eventually, of course, the "love" dropped off the end of the emails and then, the emails too, dropped. Such is life at seventeen.

Or apparently at 25. Not that there was "love". But there were "xo's" and "miss you's" and other such nonsense. And there were also timely responses, and that was when he was also traveling!

I conclude that for basically the first time in my entire life, I went for it, all in, consequences be damned, and I ended up no better than all the girls I've tried my entire life not to be.

Part of me wants to call and talk and clear the air. But I'm not sure I'd be able to make it anything except a conversation about nothing. And then the sensible part of me knows that if his last message meant anything, it was that we meant nothing--at least now that the moment is over.

I'm trying so hard not to reply. I don't know if I'll succeed.