It takes a while, but eventually you find solace in something, whether it be a welcome distraction, like burying yourself in your work, or the comforting arms of another man (or woman, either way works), rediscovering things that used to make you happy, or your favorite pair of fat-pants, sappy chick flicks, and pints of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Phood ice cream. It all works while at the same time none of it really works, if you give yourself the time to stop and think, even a moment, their face comes to you. The way they used to kiss you ghosts across your lips. The way their body moved with yours in intimate moments excites you, and you realize you’ll likely never feel it again. And now you’re back at square one.
Everybody recovers at different speeds, but eventually we find that we’re not fucked up any more. We miss our old lovers, but it’s no longer a struggle to hold on. Healing is happening, but even still, there are things we desperately miss.
I haven’t slept well the past six weeks, I’ve laid awake in bed night after night feeling that something was missing. Warmth, someone to roll over and hold, to run my fingertips over so I can watch her flesh sprout goosebumps, and if I’ve done it just right, a little pleased sound might escape her lips. I’ve long maintained that holding a woman is one of the top five pleasures in this world, frankly I’m surprised there are women out there that choose men. Events have transpired recently to remind me just how much I crave that closeness, of being able to roll over and kiss the base of the neck, to form my body to hers while I sleep. I know now that is why I can’t sleep some nights, because of the depth of my desire to hold a woman, and more importantly, one that wants me to hold her. But knowing what is wrong doesn’t help me sleep.
I dislike my math class. More accurately spoken, I feel like bashing my head on my desk whenever certain of my classmates open their mouths to ask questions that can be answered with simple thought processes, disabling the class from covering all of the actual material as planned. We took a test this morning, but before it, the teacher announced that he had prepared to review the material for a half hour before we began. Unwilling to listen to inane questions, I opted to take a walk in the chilly morning to mentally prepare for what I was convinced would be a simple mental exercise. But it’s a class at 8:30 in the morning, I needed caffeine. I wandered over to the convenience store on campus, picked up an Amp, and idly flirted with the girl working the counter. I said something mildly clever and we exchanged dimpled smiles; I thanked her, called her an angel, and walked out whistling the tune to Holy Diver. Don’t judge me. I’m pretty sure I only got a C on the test, but I had a spring in my step the rest of the morning. It was nice to flirt without any thought of repercussion, of potential jealousy (not that I would ever accuse any of my exes of that, I’ve dated nothing but wonderful and understanding young women worthy of a much better man than I), or any nascent guilt I might have felt for it, and with absolutely no intention of turning it into something more meaningful than the hope that I brought a smile to her face. I missed that.
This is a long road, but one that I'm finding deeply interesting to walk. It’s a journey I look forward to sharing with you all in the future. If you feel like sharing your stories, things you discovered after a relationship that you craved but hadn’t really realized, or any thing you want to share about the healing process, feel free to comment below.