Chapter Thirty Five

It was early December. She was reminded from social media that her former sister-in-law and current “sista”-friend would be moving to Costa Rica for several months. Not only because it would be helpful for her friend’s many, many health issues (and because Covid was much less prevalent down there), but also to grow her business and help build housing for communities in that area. She insisted on chatting with her sista-friend before she left. They were finally able to arrange a phone date and she was excited to catch up with her.

She knew that staying friends with her ex’s sister was risky for her continued growth, but this woman had been instrumental in keeping her afloat throughout her years with her ex, and the bond they had built was stronger than any shitty relationship. She also had no intention of asking about her ex, or her dog that she still missed with all her heart but had been trying to put to the back of her mind because she knew there was no point dwelling on it.

Even so, her sista-friend had her own venting to do about him. Keep in mind, he wasn’t just verbally and emotionally abusive as a boyfriend. It’s part of his personality and he is like that with many women in his life – including his sister. So, she listened as her sista-friend recounted a recent visit with him and one of their other sisters. (You’d think a man who grew up with three sisters and was raised by a single mom would have more respect for women…)

It was through that conversation in which she discovered that while she, herself, was doing well in her new life – losing weight, going to therapy, getting her finances in order, etc… – he was now balding and had gained a bunch of weight. That alone made her want to rejoice in all things petty. She would be lying if she said it didn’t give her some sick, twisted joy to know how much better she was doing than he was. But what really blew her away was finding out that he was back to eating meat.

After two years of non-stop shaming, berating, and belittling her for every non-vegan food choice she made, he was back to eating fucking meat. Meanwhile, she was still kicking ass with her Flexitarian lifestyle. Go figure. She really never thought she would still be the one not eating (much) meat, and that he’d be back to eating cows and pigs! What a hypocrite, she thought. But then again, she remembered that that’s how he is. He can inflict as much judgement and pressure on others as possible, but those same standards never apply to him. He is the exemption to his every rule. Classic narcissist.

Also, something sad yet unsurprising – during that visit to see his sisters, they were all sitting and chatting at the kitchen table. His youngest nephew, five years old, innocently came up to him and said, “uncle so and so, I miss auntie so and so”. Her ex turned to this child and said something to the extent of, “Wow, buddy. And you used to be my favourite. Go away now.” (or something like that – the exact words escaped her.) The point is, even as a joke, that’s not funny. This poor kid didn’t get sarcasm. He hurt his nephews feelings on purpose because his nephew hurt his feelings by accident. This is the type of person he is.

After touching on that for a while, she couldn’t help but ask where her dog was while he was there visiting. He had always made such a big deal about not going away anywhere because their dog hated car rides and was skittish around other dogs (his sisters both had 2 dogs of their own), so he never wanted to go away anywhere. She realized, even then though, that those were all just excuses not to let her visit her friends and family. Still, that’s why she was surprised to hear that he had gone to visit his sisters at all. She assumed he brought the dog and she was curious about her well being.

Her sista-friend then dropped the bomb that nope, he didn’t bring her dog with him. He left her at home with – drum roll please….. – his new girlfriend! A woman he had been with for five months already. That would mean he had been seeing someone since about June or July, which was less than six months after they had broken up.

On one hand, she was definitely surprised – but mainly because he trusted someone else to care for the dog. When they were together, no one was good enough to care for that dog except the two of them. He would completely lose his shit any time she had suggested bringing their dog to her parents’ house, or the possibility of leaving her with them and their own dog if they happened to go out. There was no way he was leaving their dog in someone else’s care – especially her parents, for some fucked up reason. Now he’s letting some woman he’s known for less than a year, that he met on the fucking internet, take care of HER dog. Her stomach tied in knots and she silently teared up as her sista-friend continued on the other end of the line.

What didn’t surprise her, though, was that he was already in another relationship. Even though they were together for seven years, and it would be a very long time before she would be getting back into a relationship because of all the baggage she was carrying from those tumultuous years together, she knew that he was the most co-dependent person she had ever met.

He needed someone to hold him up and make him feel like a big man, all while verbally and emotionally beating this person down in the process. If anything, she felt a little sorry for this new woman in his life. At the same time though, she was informed that this woman was older and rich – his Sugar Mama, he called her. So maybe this woman was using him, and not the other way around? She hoped, for the woman’s sake, that she would get what she needed from him (sex), and move on without baring the full weight of his verbal, mental and emotional abuse.

The phone conversation ended and she wished her sista-friend all the luck in the world for this next exciting chapter. Then, after hanging up, she sat and cried on her bed for a few minutes. She was so relieved to be out of that situation. To be out of that toxic family, really. Even though all of his sisters had always been great towards her, especially her sista-friend, her ex and his other sisters were still just some of the most negative, toxic people she’d ever met and she was so thankful to be out of that emotionally harmful environment.

She was also sad about her dog. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much she rationalizes the situation, no matter how many times she tells herself “It is what it is. You have to move on,” she will forever love and miss that dog. And having had to leave her will be a heavy weight on her shoulders for the rest of her life.

She wiped her tears and took a deep breath. Then, she texted her friends.

“So guess who’s fat and bald now!…”

Continue to Chapter Thirty Six

Reflecting on this past year…

Let’s be real. 2020 was a complete and total dumpster fire.

For me, though, this past year has been a year of eye-opening growth and transformation. Despite the deadly pandemic and all the racial, economic, and social injustices that have further been brought to light this year, I was already on a path to self discovery. And it was through that journey that I was able to make it through the last 365 days. I started writing this just a few days before Christmas, and thinking back to where I was this time last year, it’s almost unfathomable how I got to where I am now.

Some of this might be repetitive from earlier chapters, but for the purposes of this recap, just bare with me. By this time in 2019, I had already had my final revelation that I was ready to leave my relationship. My ex had traumatized me for the last time, and I knew I was finally, truly, ready to get out. I didn’t have a set plan yet. In fact, I was rationalizing that I would end things with him after the holidays, but thought I would stay in the apartment with him at least until early March due to the fact that legally I still owed my 2 months rent notice. Can you IMAGINE if I had stayed until March?!?

The pandemic would have hit and I could have been trapped there in the tiny, claustrophobic apartment I shared with him on the top floor of a house, in Northern Ontario, already isolated from my friends and family, and then further isolated from the world. My ex would have had everything he had ever wanted from our relationship – complete and total control of me. Thank fuck my two girlfriends talked me out of that. I realized, throughout those holidays, that there was no way I could stay any longer than was truly necessary.

My ex and I spent Christmas 2019 with my family. It was the best visit thus far, according to my parents. But I was completely checked out, and he knew it. He knew things were coming to an end and he was scrambling to salvage our crumbling relationship. I keep thinking back to my New Years kiss with him – a closed lip, tight mouthed, completely cold, and unloving peck – very a propos for the year ahead. We went back to our apartment on January 2nd, and I went back to work the following Monday. That Friday, January 10th 2020, I ended my nearly 7 year relationship with my abuser.

That date is so significant to me because I remember making the conscious choice to have that conversation on a Friday, knowing full well it could have escalated to something catastrophic, and I knew I didn’t want to have to go to work the next day.

It’s honestly mind boggling, the amount of planning that goes in to every decision you make when you’re in an abusive relationship. The way your mind molds to their behaviour; your way of thinking – it all just centres around their erratic emotions and mood swings. You have to sugar coat every opinion or thought you have. Walking on egg shells to ensure you don’t set them off. And then, knowing you have to have a conversation with them about how you don’t love them anymore and that you’re leaving…

I’m not exaggerating when I say it was honestly one of the most terrifying moments of my life.

I didn’t know what to expect. In past fights he had already torn my shit up and ripped things off the walls. He had punched holes in the walls and broken dishes. He had thrown things at me. He had screamed so loud in my face that veins would bulge and spit would fly. If all that happened while we were “happy”, what would happen when I told him I was leaving?? Fortunately, and surprisingly, he took it better than I had anticipated. Like I said, he knew it was coming. And after a fairly uneventful 3 weeks (minus the huge fit he pulled 4 days before I was set to move), on January 31st 2020, I closed that chapter of my life and set forth on my journey back to myself.

I feel like I already talk about this a lot because I write about all my experiences in this nifty little blog here. But in looking back on the last several months, I have to say again how surprised and happy I am with where I’ve ended up. How far I’ve come in such a short time… I’ve like, really impressed myself, y’know?! To me, all of that just sounds like I’m bragging or showing off. It feels weird to have confidence, I guess. But I do, I feel confident. My life was stagnant for 7 years. I was trapped in limbo. Seeing so much possibility through my figurative window, but was being held hostage by my relationship and poor life choices. I wasn’t living for myself – and I am now.

It’s indescribable, the freedom I feel now. Even though this year has been completely insane and we’re all living through a literal pandemic, and I don’t have the true “freedom” I expected, I would take this adjustment to the “new normal” every day for eternity, over having to spend one more single second living the life I was living before.

I know my worth now. Yes I’ve lost weight, and I look and feel better than I ever have (talk about bragging), but that’s only the tip of the ice berg. This sounds so cliché, but I’ve finally realized that my worth is not defined by how I look, nor is it defined by someone else’s opinion of me. I’ve had body issues my whole life. Made worse by, but certainly not caused by, my relationship. Throughout my entire existence, I’ve always compared myself to others. Why is she pretty and I’m not? Why is she skinny and I’m fat? Why does she have a boyfriend and I don’t? And even when I could find good qualities in myself, they were never enough. The good qualities I possess still didn’t amount to the attention I wanted from guys so, I was still never good enough.

Maybe, in a twisted way, I’m thankful for my shitty relationship? Unpleasant as much of it was, I think I needed some of those experiences to really see that I do, actually, deserve better. Not only from others, but from myself. I let all that happen to me because I really didn’t think I could do any better. That I could ever look any better. That, just, as a person I deserved better. I settled for whatever attention and love I was given because at the time I just felt grateful that a guy wanted to be with me at all.

Now, after having gone through everything I went through, I know that I already have everything I need to be happy, within myself (Chandler Bing voice: Could that *be* any cornier??). But it’s true – I no longer need someone else’s approval. I know now that my feelings, my ambitions, my goals, my thoughts – they’re all valid and worthy of exploring. There’s so much I want to do in this life that I couldn’t have done before. And not just because I was in a bad relationship. Even before my ex, I didn’t have the confidence in myself to ever try anything. I was afraid of failing. Of being embarrassed. Of not projecting to the world the image of myself that I had in my head. I was always worried about what other people thought. I’m not like that anymore… at least not as much! (It’s a work in progress, okay? No one’s perfect)

In the 11 months since I’ve been home, I’ve been able to make significant steps towards my future; like a buying a new laptop and a brand-new bed (and after 4 years of sleeping on a second-hand mattress, on a second-hand box spring, on the floor, because my ex was too cheap to buy a real fucking bed, you can understand my excitement!).

I am manifesting that I will buy a car early in the new year, and I hope to be moved out into my own place by the end of 2021. I’m working at my literal dream job. I’m seeing my friends again on a regular basis (when not in Lockdown). I see my family every day. I can finally enjoy time by myself without being interrogated by my ex for not wanting to spend time with him. I’ve even taken my infertility into my own hands by beginning the process of eventually freezing my eggs so I can have everything I’ve ever wanted when the time is right for me.

I can enjoy my life again and that’s because of me – I did that. I was scared, and beat down, and unsure, and – just a complete shell of a person. But I did it. I changed my life. I stood up for myself and have been reaping the benefits ever since. I’m proud of the person I am today.

I always try to end things with a nice conclusion. I like to tie a figurative bow on a post to finish it just right. But this isn’t the end of anything. I’m still learning. I’m still growing. I’m still discovering things about myself, good and bad, that I never knew I had in me.

Do I have flaws? Definitely. Do I still need to keep working on myself? 100%. Am I still worthy of respect, and compassion, and kindness and empathy and love despite not being perfect? Abso-fucking-lutely. And if I can find a person who can give me all of that, someone who shares my thoughts and goals, or who at least supports them, then wonderful – another positive thing I can add to my life. But if not, that’s fine too because I know now that I can do it all on my own. I can be happy alone. I am happy alone. I’m already giving myself all the respect, compassion, kindness, empathy and love I’ll ever need. The rest is just a bonus.

The plan was to celebrate one year of freedom with a trip to a nearby nature spa. Why? Because I fucking deserve it, that’s why. But now the entire province is back in Lockdown so, hopefully, I’ll be able to do that on my move-home-aversary, instead. Regardless, here’s to the New Year! I’m actually looking forward to 2021. I know the world is still in shambles but, for me at least, I’ve already hit rock bottom. There’s no where else for me to go but up.

My wish for anyone reading this is to know how valued you are in this world. If anything I’ve written resonates with you, if you are currently in a similar situation, or if you’re still coping with past trauma, as I am, know that the future is still bright for you. You have the strength within you to change your situation and to finally choose yourself again.

I hope 2021 is your year, just like this dumpster fire of a year was mine.

Chapter Thirty Four

For several weeks, and the week after Halloween in particular, she had been having a lot of mental health lows without even really realizing it. One factor in that was that she had lost a lot of weight in a somewhat short period of time. As thrilled as she was with what she saw in the mirror, she felt like she was having a bit of an identity crisis. She sometimes still felt the same way about herself as she did before the weight loss – negative emotions in regard to her appearance and her worth in general. 

To add to her already wavering feelings of self worth, the Halloween disaster had really been affecting her. After several years in hibernation, the messy, sloppy, embarrassing version of herself from her early 20s had made an appearance and this had triggered all sorts of unhealed feelings of shame and guilt, among many other negative emotions. 

The first week of November was pretty rough. Not only was she beating herself up mentally, but she also had the literal physical injuries she had done to herself that night to reinforce her negative thoughts. She would look down at the gigantic bruises on her knee, feel the pain in it as she moved, and would berate herself over how stupid and pathetic and worthless she felt she was.

She had sincerely apologized to her two best friends who were there to witness her humiliate herself. And though they both accepted her apologies, she couldn’t shake the nagging worry that they were both sick of her bullshit and that her friendships would crumble due to her constant lack of self control. And even though she had chatted almost every day that week with her more outspoken friend, it wasn’t until the following Friday when her other friend who had hosted the party, texted to check up on her, that she truly felt that her friendships would be okay.

Her friend texted her saying, “I honestly wouldn’t worry at all about the party. Everyone gets fucked up like that, as long as you don’t make it a habit. Then I’d be worried. The one thing I’d say to check up on is your self worth and esteem. It seems to me you think so low of yourself and can’t even believe it’s you in the mirror. I know this will take lots of time, and trial and error. But I’m here for you.”

Reading that on her break at work, she broke down in to hysterical tears, crying into the Subway wrap she had bought herself for lunch. Again, she was given proof that she was still worthy of friendship and acceptance and love, even if she sometimes acted like a walking, talking, dumpster fire.

She had a Zoom therapy session the next day. After speaking with her therapist, the link between her “identity crisis” and the amount of shame she felt in regard to her hard-partying ways, became apparent.  She had been looking negatively at herself since before this drunken mistake of an evening. Even though she had been doing so well with her weight loss, and with her mental health in general since leaving her ex, she had still been holding on to the feelings of unworthiness and of disgust towards herself which were then amplified by her getting too fucked up on Halloween. Her therapist made her realize that what she really needed was some self compassion.

“What would you say to a friend who was feeling the way you’re feeling?”, her therapist asked her. She realized that in that case, she would have comforted that friend. Telling her friend that everyone makes mistakes. It’s what we learn from those mistakes, and how we move forward from them that matter. She would remind that friend of all the positive qualities they posses; of how valued she is as a person, not only to friends but to family as well. How funny and smart and caring and empathetic and kind and thoughtful and generous she is. How her value isn’t measured by what her body looks like, how much she weighs or how attractive she comes off to men she doesn’t even know.

She would tell her friend that it’s okay to feel down sometimes. But it’s not okay to fester in that hole and dwell on all the perceived negatives floating around in her head. She would remind her friend of how far she’s come in such a short time – less than a year! After nearly a decade spent with the wrong person, it’s amazing and admirable and worthy of pride to actually see all the progress that she’s made. Not just physically, but in her life in general.

She cried into her hands, sitting in the living room as her therapist just watched from the other side of the screen. That hour passed in the blink of an eye, but she was able to breathe a little easier afterwards. Her therapist sent her some self compassion meditations and they scheduled their next session. She wiped her tears as the dog hopped up on the couch and curled up next to her, the sun shining a little brighter through the bay window.

The weeks following that therapy session seemed to allow her to regain focus on what was important. She had made her mistake. It was over and done with. There literally wasn’t anything else to do except move on.

She decided that she needed to get back on track with her diet. Not because she needed to lose more weight (even though she was only 7lbs away from her goal), but because it was something healthy and positive that she could focus on to make herself proud again. She felt that that feeling of purposeful eating and regimented exercise was exactly the positive goal she could channel her energy towards. Specifically the exercise. Losing so much weight in a short period of time had left parts of her body, well saggy. There’s no other way to put it. And as much as she hated exercise (like truly. It’s just the worst), she had already seen positive results after working out with her friend for a couple months. The rest was up to her, and she hoped she would be up for the challenge.

Continue to Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Three

A few weeks passed after the whole Craig debacle, and soon, it was Halloween. She had forgotten how much she absolutely fucking loved Halloween. She hadn’t been able to spend it with her friends since 2012. Every Halloween spent with her ex was spent with his friends.

She always had a good time with his friends. They were all so nice and funny and generous. They had welcomed her with open arms when she first met them and now, even after the break up, she still keeps in touch with them and is grateful to still have them in her life. But they weren’t her friends, y’know? She missed celebrating this fun holiday with her closest girlfriends. So this year, even with the restrictions from Covid, she was so excited to dress up and have a good time with the small group of friends that had become her pandemic bubble.

She had gone over early to her friend’s place where the Halloween party was being held. She helped her friends setup up and decorate, hanging cotton cobwebs here, hiding fake, bloody plastic limbs there. The mood was set and she couldn’t have been more thrilled. Because of Covid, she hadn’t wanted to go all out for her Halloween costume, so she just recycled her cat ears from the year before, and wore a black tank top and black jeans. The only thing she had to buy was her cute little black tail.

She had blow dried her hair at home before going over, so all she had to do was straighten it and do her makeup. Once her hair was straightened, it was like she was looking at an image of her younger self. A thinner faced image, mind you. She hadn’t had her hair straight in what felt like years. Her ex always preferred her to leave her hair curly, so she was used to looking wild and frizzy, not sleek and coiffed. She then drew a little heart on the tip of her nose in black eyeliner, and added freckles and whiskers to her cheeks. Ta Da! Her cat costume was complete. She was excited, she felt good, and truthfully that was the sexiest she had felt in a really long time. By that time, she was down just over 40 pounds from when she had started losing weight back in May. She was ready to show it off and party hard! – a little too hard, actually…

Night fell, costumes ready, the spooky music blared and everyone was pumped for a spooktacularly fun night. The wine flowed.

And flowed.

And flowed.

All of a sudden, it was morning. Well actually, it was 1pm the afternoon of November 1st. She woke up naked in her bed. Body sore, head pounding. She guzzled the entire glass of water that she was surprised she had put beside her bed when she had gotten home. She felt like complete shit. Like she had been hit by a truck and then been run over back and forth, again and again. She had not felt that hungover in years. She shakily got herself up and headed to the washroom, then headed right back to bed. It was another five hours before she would be able to get up again.

She checked her phone which had been blowing up with texts from her friends. “How are you feeling today?” “Did you make it home okay?” “Are you alright?” She replied that she was okay and had gotten home safely, then noticed her Facebook Messenger window was open. A knot tied in her stomach as she knew immediately what she had done, and hoped against all hope she hadn’t actually done what she thought she had. Yet, sure enough, as she scrolled through the messages, she realized that at 9:43pm, she had sent Craig a drunken message. That’s right, she was already that fucked up at nine fourty three PM! The message read, “I was nver going to message you again, but here I am D.runk. happy Halloween!”

She could not have felt more mortified if she tried. She saw that he had seen the message, but of course he hadn’t replied. Who would reply to that? What could anyone possibly say to something like “I was never going to message you again…” She wanted to message him and explain, but she couldn’t keep looking at her phone. That Sunday was a complete write-off for her and she slept the entire rest of the day. She woke up the Monday morning feeling weak but overall, better. Except for the humongous bruise on her knee, and all the bruises up and down her arm. What the fuck happened to her that night?

She made it in to work on time on Monday, but she had a giant knot growing in the pit of her stomach. Whenever she had ever felt hungover like that, she knew the night before was a disaster. She knew she had gotten too drunk. She knew she had made a fool of herself, even if she didn’t remember anything. She knew her friends would have had to take care of her, so she knew she was definitely due to apologize for her behaviour.

She texted her two friends and asked how she got some of her bruises. Neither of them knew exactly how she had hurt herself, but they told her bits and pieces of how fucked up she was. She then texted them separately to apologize. Her one friend who she could always rely on to give her the god’s-honest truth, told her point blank how upset she was and why. And she had no argument, she knew she had fucked up. Throughout their early 20’s, this friend had taken care of her more times than she could count. There was absolutely no reason for her to be continuing to get that fucked up at this age.

She knew she wasn’t an alcoholic. She had known that during her messy early 20’s also. She didn’t crave alcohol; she didn’t need it on a day-to-day basis. She didn’t even need to drink every weekend. There would be weeks, even months, where she wouldn’t have a drop of alcohol. Her problem was, she didn’t have an off switch when she did drink. There was no in between for her. She was either tipsy or fucking hammered. And even with her friends advising her to slow down or to stop entirely, in her drunken state she would just ignore them. And then the rest of the night would be spent having her friends take care of her. How selfish could she be?? How is that fair? – to have her friends babysit her while she’s having the drunken time of her life and they’re left to pick up the pieces of her mess.

She wished she could just crawl into a hole and die. That feeling. That feeling of complete and utter shame and embarrassment. She hadn’t felt it in years and yet it was all too familiar to her. She had worked so hard over the last several years to not get fucked up like that. She knew no one, including herself, liked her when she was in that state. She was sloppy, she was messy, she was overly flirtatious and sexual. She was literally everything you wouldn’t want yourself to be. She was so angry at herself for getting that drunk. For ruining Halloween – not just for herself, but for her friends who had to take care of her, too. The shame spiral was starting and there was no end in sight.

Her friends were gracious and accepting of her remorse. But it didn’t change the deep seeded hatred she had for herself. She felt like she was 20 years old again, out of control and humiliated by her sloppy behaviour. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened. All she could do was vow not to let herself get like that again. Something she had already promised herself years ago. And yet, here she was…

Continue to Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Two

A few days passed and she inevitably heard from Craig again. She told him she was annoyed with how that night had gone down, and without actually apologizing, he was able to make her forgive him. She was notorious for lowering her boundaries and standards when charmed.

She realized that if she wanted to pursue this with him, she would just have to go in to this with an equal level of commitment. He wasn’t someone so important to her that she would want to drop everything and make herself available for him at any time. But if the opportunity presented itself that they were ever able to get together, she knew she wouldn’t turn it down. After another week of chatting, they both decided that they really did want to meet up. So again, they had to figure out when and where. They ended up settling on just getting a hotel room.

Now, there are two ways to look at that: one way would be to see it as a sleazy, Pretty Woman type thing. “No respectable girl would meet a guy at a hotel for sex,” is a phrase she had played over in her head more than once. On the other hand, she knew this experience didn’t have to be so “dirty”, and that it could actually be a really fun and exciting thing to happen to her. It was better than fucking in the back of his truck, that was for damn sure!

She was in control of the situation. This entire experience was in her hands. Craig told her he wanted her to be happy and gave her free reign to choose the hotel and the date. All he wanted to know was the address and the room number, plus her e-mail address so he could send her money for the room. Not in an sleazy escort way but in a fair, equal partners type way. So, it was up to her where they would go. She knew she wanted something nice, but she also knew she couldn’t go all out because she was definitely not flush with cash.

She ended up finding a beautiful hotel that was about a 15 minute walk from her work. She booked the room on a Sunday, and they were getting together the following Friday. She gave him all the information but then they didn’t speak for the rest of the week. By the Thursday she was sick of the anxiety she had been feeling so she sent him a simple, “hey stranger” text, to which he replied quickly. She confirmed their plans and even said, “just to be clear, this is a sleepover, correct? I don’t want to be paying all this money for a room for you to make me feel like a whore by leaving in the middle of the night.” He scoffed at the suggestion, and confirmed that he was staying over. Can never be too sure, though, so she was glad she had asked him.

When the day finally came that they were to meet up, she left work and went immediately to the liquor store. She knew she would need some liquid courage for the events ahead. Then she headed over to the hotel. She walked in and was impressed with the lobby’s marble flooring and high ceilings. She went to check in, and the man at the front desk offered her an upgrade with a nice corner view of the river. Yes, please! She finished checking in and headed up to the room. She knew Craig wouldn’t be there for another hour or two, so she had plenty of time to work out her jitters.

She opened the door to the room and was immediately taken aback by the gorgeous view. This was definitely not some shady, back alley tryst. This was classy! She changed out of the clothes she had worn to work and into just a tank top and leggings, something comfortable. She and Craig had been texting the entire time she had been there. Then, all of a sudden, he was breezing in through the door. A smile grew across her face immediately and her stomach felt a rush of butterflies.

The first thing he said was, “ah, I’m so nervous!”, which completely put her at ease. He was as weirded out by this as she was. He also couldn’t deny the connection they had built, either. She poured some wine into the complimentary paper coffee cups in the room (see? Classy.), and they sat down on the bed and talked for a little while. He caught her up on what he’d been up to lately, and he talked about high school as if it were yesterday. He even went as far as to mention that he had seen a different girl from high school on Bumble. “She’s still a smoke show,” he added. She agreed that that girl was obviously beautiful, but um, hello! Maybe not the right time to be talking about other women when he was about to have sex with her?! Men are so dumb.

Soon enough though, he kissed her and she was sure she was in for a good night. As the kissing progressed, she realized why she had gone down such a bad shame spiral after sleeping with Ginger Beard. She recognized that she wasn’t the type of girl who could just hook up with random guys like that. Sure, she had made out with countless guys throughout her drunken youth, but she hadn’t had sex with them. In her 30 something years, she had only slept with a handful of guys. She needed that intimacy that only comes with an emotional connection – a comfort level that she just couldn’t reach with someone she barely knew.

As hopeful as she was that this would be an amazing experience, that feeling didn’t last long. The sex felt great, they were both really enjoying themselves, but when they finished and he stood up, they both realized that she had just gotten her fucking period all. over. him!

So typical of her to have something like that ruin a good thing. Her period wasn’t that heavy and she wasn’t really embarrassed by it, but damn, such an inconvenience. Craig, however, was even less impressed. He didn’t really get upset or anything. He half-heartedly joked about it and he seemed fine. But immediately after he cleaned himself up, the energy between them shifted. It felt like they were just buddies now, not “lovers” (for lack of a better term). That was a huge bummer for her but she tried as best she could to ignore that feeling and continue to enjoy their night.

He had to go put money in the parking meter and they both wanted to smoke a joint. So, they got dressed and went downstairs. They realized they were both pretty hungry, as well, so they went for a walk to smoke their joint and find something to eat. As they walked, they talked about all sorts of things and she found herself getting more and more worked up by everything he said.

She fundamentally disagreed with literally everything he believed in. She found out he had lived in Florida for many years during his 20’s, which explained a lot about his twisted way of thinking. But instead of getting angry at him for all the dumb shit he was saying, the way he delivered all his absurd thoughts and opinions actually just made her laugh. He didn’t force or push his opinions on her, and was open to hearing her thoughts. Never wavering, however, from his backwards way of looking at the world. This back-and-forth banter created that sexual tension again though, so she was feeling better about how the night was unfolding.

After walking for a while, they realized it would just be easier to order Skip the Dishes from the hotel room, so they headed back. When their food arrived, they settled in at the small desk that the giant TV was placed on, and enjoyed their meals as they watched home reno shows on HGTV. It was so comfortable and relaxed. She didn’t feel nervous or anxious or insecure. It was like they had been hanging out for years.

After they ate, they were both so full and tired that they just climbed in to bed to watch more House Hunters, and whatever else was on. His breathing got heavier and slower and she knew he was falling asleep. She tried not to be upset, but fuck, they paid all this money for a hotel room, and they’re just going to have sex once and that’s it??

She knew it was because of her period that he wasn’t trying anything else, and she called him out for it. He really didn’t have an argument because he knew she was right. In his typical sweet, charming way, he pulled her close and they cuddled as he successfully brought her back down from her somewhat frantic and annoyed state. Still, she wasn’t letting it go and after some time had passed, she just took it upon herself to get things going a second time. This time was much better, and much less bloody. She got more out of the second go than she had the first time, and was finally satisfied. He was definitely not as in to it as he was the first time, but who are we kidding, he enjoyed it too.

It was already midnight at this point so she understood why he wanted to sleep now, but she was still wide awake. They talked and cuddled, and he told her how happy he was that they had finally gotten together as he gently kissed her shoulder. He also told her how beautiful she was, among other sweet compliments. Soon his breathing got heavy and he was out cold. She lay there in his arms, happy to be there, yet acutely aware she would be getting no sleep that night. She was definitely not used to sleeping with someone anymore.

And then it was morning. He had to get up to go do a flooring job. He offered to drive her home but there was no way she was leaving that hotel room at 8am. They talked a bit more and she apologized for her period, but explained that because of her infertility issues, she never knew when she’d be getting it. That seemed to make him feel better, for some reason. As if he thought she knew she was getting it but didn’t tell him, or something? It was still a bit awkward, but she figured it was because they were coming out of their sex bubble and back into reality.

Then he kissed her goodbye and told her to text him when she left. And that was it. He was gone and she had the whole king-sized bed to herself. She grabbed her leftovers from dinner and opened her laptop to immediately write up a rough draft of her night. She felt like a modern day Carrie Bradshaw. A couple hours passed and she got herself dressed and ready to go home. She texted him when her Uber arrived and he replied by “liking” her message.

She knew they wouldn’t be chatting for some time after that, but even two months later, she has yet to hear from him again. At first she was disappointed. How perfect would that have been if they had become Friends with Benefits? She knew him, she was comfortable with him, she trusted him in the sense that she knew he was Covid free and from what he had told her, she felt that he wouldn’t have been out hooking up with a bunch of other girls if things had actually taken off between them.

She knew he was grossed out because she had gotten her period, but then she got the sinking feeling that she herself turned him off. Like once he saw her naked he realized he had made a huge mistake. She hoped that wasn’t the case. She tried to tell herself it was just her period – he’s immature, he’s not worth obsessing over… And it’s not like she even wanted anything more from him than what had happened. Still, the stinging feeling of rejection pierced through her fragile little heart.

“Oh well,” she told herself. On to the next…

Continue to Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty One

Is this for real?! She thought to herself. She couldn’t believe how quickly she made the decision to hook up with a stranger. At her parents house. During a pandemic.

She had grilled him on his personal Covid protocols and he seemed legit. He was off work, stayed at home most days, didn’t interact with many people. Yes, he wore his mask. Yes, he washed his hands often. Yes, he practiced social distancing. No, he hadn’t been with anyone since Covid. And finally, yes, people are very capable of lying and her track record for being a good judge of character was pretty low. But it would be no different than passing someone on the street who’s not wearing a mask, she told herself. Except she would be making out with this person, among other things. Despite the risks, she still couldn’t help but be a little bit excited.

The day arrived, and she jumped in the shower and began to shave literally everything. Her parents went out a little while later and it was just her and the family dog, waiting impatiently for this random guy to arrive. Everything she said she didn’t want to do; she was about to do. All her dating profiles expressed that she didn’t want to hook up on the first date. That she wanted to do patio drinks and have a conversation to make sure there was chemistry before anything went further. And yet, here she was, waiting for this stranger to come into her home and have his way with her. Her stomach was in knots and she (figuratively) wanted to throw up.

Then, he was there. Knocking on her side door so her nosey neighbours wouldn’t see him. She let him in and their eyes met. It was exciting and electric and awkward and exhilarating. She had told him about her dog so he even arrived with a dog treat for him. The dog took it and headed over to the couch, allowing them to sneak upstairs. She closed the bedroom door and then it became really real.

He stood there, in her bedroom, hovering over her as he was much taller than she had anticipated. He leaned in and they kissed. Less tongue than she would have hoped for (as in, basically none) but she got into it, nonetheless. The kissing progressed further and before she knew it, she was having sex. She was having sex with someone who wasn’t her ex. She had been wanting this every day since she had moved back home. The question was, then, did this experience live up to the fantasy she had built up in her head?

The answer is no. No, it did not.

First of all, she forgot how much she hated condoms. They dried her out and it was not pleasurable. Not much she could do about that, but it sucked, nonetheless. Secondly, there was no foreplay. Despite her telling him what she needed, he had a one-track mind. Before starting, he had asked her to take out her vibrator to use while they were doing the deed. Thoughtful as that was, she could use that on her own time.

She didn’t want to use it, but she ended up needing to. The pro to that was that he didn’t get angry after he had finished and she hadn’t. In fact, he encouraged her and enjoyed watching. All she could think about was how angry her ex used to get when she would have the audacity to finish herself off after he hadn’t gotten the job done for her himself. That part was a welcome change. The real mood killer, though, was that her dog had heard them and was barking and scratching at the door the entire time.

Afterwards, they just hung out and talked. He was charming and funny and nice and very forthcoming. He told her about some of his issues; why he had moved home, what he enjoyed doing for fun. He even expressed that he was seeing a counsellor which she thought was amazing and extremely healthy. He was surprised at her reaction to the counsellor thing. He expected her to think he was crazy when really, she was impressed at his efforts for self improvement and growth.

They chatted for a while but the looming fear that her parents would be home at any minute was growing larger and larger in her anxious mind. She sent him home less than two hours after he came over. They kissed goodbye and agreed to chat soon. He left, and she immediately ran back upstairs for a shower which included an intense face scrub, followed by a rigorous tooth brushing. Then she washed her sheets and comforter.

Turns out, her parents wouldn’t be home for several hours after he had left. She ended up sitting on the couch, mindlessly watching TV, agonizing over what had just happened. Instead of being elated like she had expected to be, she was riddled with feelings of guilt and shame. Guilt that she had risked her and her parents’ lives by allowing a stranger in her house during a deadly pandemic. Shame that she had allowed some stranger to have sex with her on their first “date” despite her adamant feelings about not wanting it to happen that way. Also, in spite of her efforts to ignore it, she couldn’t shake the loud, thunderous roar of her ex’s voice in her head shouting at her, telling her what a slut she was. And finally, she was also disappointed at the realization that the entire ordeal just wasn’t worth it.

The sex wasn’t amazing, the kissing wasn’t amazing, the company was nice but not worth the stress of having him over. Additionally, this guy was about 6ft, and her ex was 5”8 on a good day. The sheer stature of this stranger man and the width of his hips was more than she was used. That being said, she had never before had to spread her legs as wide as she had during her little romp in the sack with him. She most definitely pulled her groin muscle and that, too, made the experience not worth it. And again, she was left to give herself the orgasms that he wasn’t able to deliver – something she could have done on her own, without the guilt or shame that apparently came with it. 

By the next afternoon, however, she had poked her head out of her metaphorical shame dungeon and was feeling a little bit better. She reminded herself that he was Covid safe and that they had used a condom so the worry of STI’s wasn’t necessary. Neither was the worry that she could in any way be pregnant. Turns out PCOS is shitty for real life, but GREAT for casual sex! She also knew that her parents weren’t going to find out about it and that the whole experience could be put behind her. She had finally done what she had been trying to do for months, and now she knew that she didn’t need it. She realized, yet again, that she was better off on her own, and she felt some peace in that.

Continue to Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty

As she stood in line at the pot shop, she looked at the notification from her friend’s high school boyfriend; “So-and-so has sent you a voice message”. “Wtf?” she thought to herself.

She had her ear buds in so she played the message. The sound she heard could only be described as a long, high pitched fart out of a tight butt hole. Why the hell would he send her that?! She replied simply, “um, pardon me!?” And he responded quickly saying he was just teasing and didn’t mean to bother her. She explained what she had heard on the voice message and they realized the message had messed up, he hadn’t just sent her some random fart noise.

After that they ended up chatting throughout her entire commute home. She couldn’t believe how comfortable it was to talk to him. They hadn’t exactly been friends in their teen years. They each knew who the other was but didn’t hang out together. And he was completely different than she had pictured him in her head. Their conversation was flirty and funny and relaxed and only a teensy bit awkward when they would both address the fact that it was just so weird to be chatting with one another.

They messaged back and forth all evening, and he even messaged her the next morning when she arrived at work. They chatted the entire day as well, even after she had finished work and was loading her stuff in the car to head up to the cottage. When it was time to hit the road, they said their goodbyes. He told her to have fun and to message him when she got back.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling and her stomach fluttered with butterflies – which should have been the warning sign for her to realize that this would likely blow up in her face. Anytime she felt butterflies, she was in for a world of trouble. But also, why was she already so excited by this exchange? She still barely knew him, they had only chatted for a day – total.

Even still, she was giddy with excitement. The fact alone that he wanted her to message him after her weekend away, meant something to her. She could tell he was genuinely interested in her. Not a feeling she had often felt with the other guys she had chatted with on dating apps. She told him she would text him when she got back, and she headed out to the cottage.

Of course, it was yet another amazing cottage weekend. She and her friends partied and conversed and expanded their minds and continued to strengthen the bonds they had made with each other over those last few months. She was even lucky enough to have her Tarot cards read again. She chose ‘The Year Ahead’ spread, and caught a glimpse of the potential her life had in store for her over the next twelve months. It was the perfect way to end the perfect summer.

She got home on the Sunday and all she could think about was messaging him. (He needs a name. Let’s call him… Craig? There’s no rhyme or reason. It’s just Craig.) She wanted to message Craig as soon as she got home, but she didn’t want to seem too eager. So, she waited until the Monday when she couldn’t take it anymore. He replied almost instantly and her stomach filled with butterflies all over again.

They talked about all sorts of things – high school, their families, mutual friends, their lives since high school, love, sex – everything. She couldn’t believe how enamoured she was with him. The thing about that, though, was… she couldn’t get it out of her head that this was her friend’s high school boyfriend. It was years and years ago, but she couldn’t shake that guilty feeling that she was cheating on her friend. The wounds from her relationship with Nice Car Guy were resurfacing and she wanted nothing to do with that.

She switched over to Notes and started writing her confession. She explained that she realized it was literally almost TWO DECADES since her friend and Craig had dated, but that she would understand if it were weird for her to be chatting with him, and potentially meeting up with him. He was a big part of her friends’ story and she didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for anyone.

Her friend replied a few hours later, basically laughing in her face for over thinking the situation as much as she had. Her friend expressed that she had no feelings about it either way and that it had been so many years, she was actually happy for them if they were able to make a connection. Her friend gave her her blessing and that allowed her to give herself permission to actually accept and enjoy the attention and good vibes she was getting from him.

After she had spoken to her friend, she stopped holding back when he asked her personal questions. They began to talk more about sex and what they were looking for on dating apps. She explained that really, she wasn’t looking for anything serious, and briefly touched on her relationship with her ex. She also expressed that she wasn’t looking to go fuck a bunch of random guys either, especially considering the pandemic. And thus, they began planning when they would meet up.

They both were honest about wanting to hook up – but where? She lived at home with her parents, and he lived with his brother and his brother’s kids. Short of renting a hotel room with the zero money they had, the last resort was quite simply, his truck. It sincerely felt like she had time traveled back to high school. All of a sudden she was 16 again, and this cute guy wanted to take her out and hook up with her in his truck. Ahh, every high school girl’s dream.

Other guys she had chatted with had actually suggested that to her before – hooking up in their trucks. She had always said no. She’s better than that. She wasn’t about to go fuck some random guy bent over the tailgate of his pick-up, bare assed in the freezing cold.

Welp – it would seem her standards only went has high as “random”. Evidently, she was not, in fact, above hooking up with guys in their trucks, as long as she knew them, apparently. They set the date and she waited anxiously for when he would pick her up and she would see him for the first time after so many years.

The plan was for him to meet her after she had dinner with a friend of hers. Her friend had to go home to her baby, so she was able to combine her evening in to two dates instead of one. She messaged him from dinner when she knew what time her friend had to leave. He replied that a friend of his and his brother’s had stopped by and that he wouldn’t be able to meet her.

She questioned him, presuming the friend would be fine there with just his brother, but he replied that his brother wasn’t home, and that he would be hanging out with this friend that evening. Okay??? She replied simply, “Ok.” (note the passive aggressive period), and that was that for Craig that evening. Her friend drove her home and she went up to her room, fuming mad. She jumped on Bumble and began aggressively swiping left and right.

Soon, she happened upon a cute guy with a ginger beard and a friendly face. He lived not far from her (closer than Craig, that’s for sure), so she decided to swipe right. It’s a Match! She sent him a flirty “heyyy” and he replied in minutes. They began chatting and he was very forthcoming. “I’ll be honest,” he said almost immediately. “I’m looking for a FWB (a pandemic buddy). Interested?”

Of course, she was interested! That was literally the only thing she was trying to get out of Craig, but instead, she got ditched. She replied that yes, she was interested, and they discussed the details. Unfortunately, he also lived at home (because apparently that’s the thing to do these days!) as he had lost his job due to the pandemic. There was nowhere to do the deed so they were left just dirty text – what else was new?

In reality, it’s not like she wanted to jump to the next guy so quickly. She was just so mad about being ditched. That was definitely a pattern between her and guys in general. And she was sick of it. So, when Ginger Beard came upon her screen, she took the situation in to her own hands.

The next day when she discovered that she would have the house to herself that coming Sunday, instead of texting Craig, she texted Ginger Beard and set the date.

Continue to Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Twenty Nine

It was pure sexting almost right out of the gate. He introduced her to the Snapchat-like feature on Instagram when sending pics that ‘disappear’. Keep in mind, she’s not as young as she used to be. She doesn’t know all this Snapchat lingo! (Don’t even get her started on TikTok!)

She sent him a couple boob shots. Anyone who’s sent a sexy pic (don’t lie, you all have!) has a go-to pose or angle. For her, she preferred a quick boob pic. It required very little finagling with angles or filters, and it was a part of her body she really wasn’t that insecure about. However, she knew she could only send so many of basically the same pic before this sexy, polyamourous, Greek god on the other end would get bored.

He asked her when she would come visit him, or when he could come visit her. She told him point blank that she was very busy for the next few weeks and that she couldn’t give him a definitive date. No hard feelings if he chose to end their chat there. He said he was having fun chatting with her and that he was fine to keep talking for the time being. But that’s when he started to ask for better pics.

Let’s be clear here, folks – she is not an innately sexy person. Not in a negative, insecure, sad way. Only in the sense that she is just… super, duper awkward! She had no game. She didn’t know how to pose. She could never get a good angle. And she had fallen off balance more than once in her attempts to snap a good pic for him. In the end, she was able to scrape by with one or two acceptable shots. However, she forgot she had to take the pictures through Instagram, not just on her phone. She had sent the first photo (a not-terribly angled, half covered ass shot), as an attachment in their chat. That’s when the app just completely shut down on her.

She opened it up again and re-tried. It worked but she noticed that under his name it no longer said how long since he’d been active, instead it said his full Instagram handle. She clicked his profile and discovered “User Not Found”. “Why?… What the fuck..?” is an exact quote from her brain. This person had sent her so many instant photos (or whatever the proper fucking term is for disappearing Snapchat-like pics!). And in return, this guy, who seemed like a real person and not some fake account or Catfish, had received a number of scantily clad photos of her (no face), and had just disappeared.

She wasn’t too sure what to do or how to take it. Was there a problem with the app? Was this guy just some huge scammer? There really was nothing for her to do about this, so she resigned herself very quickly to the fact that some stranger now had a bunch of pics of her boobs and ass. As much as she tried to shrug it off, (because really, it’s not the end of the world, right?) she knew that it was her own mistake to immediately trust this stranger just because he was fucking gorgeous and his eyes pierced through her soul. She knew better. But, once again, she let herself get wrapped up in the attention of a man and she ignored her better judgement in the hopes that his attention would stay on her. She felt a false sense of validation in it. Again.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She had learned nothing. Except – she was even more certain that dating apps were off the table for the time being. And on the off chance that Sexy Hands Guy did actually text her about getting together the following weekend, she told herself she wasn’t going to get her hopes up and she wasn’t going to get attached. She was 100% not going to catch feelings for him. She really was a rollercoaster of faulty logic and erratic emotions.

The next week came and went. No text from Sexy Hands Guy.

She had had some friends over for a safe, backyard hang on the Friday night. They drank and smoked and got all kinds of fucked up. She spent the entire Saturday recovering from her hangover – she definitely could not party like she used to. The value of water and aspirin had never been more apparent to her than when she hit her thirties. That all being said, it’s probably a good thing he never messaged her – A) because he’s not a good guy and she should really learn her fucking lesson, and B) she wasn’t back to 100% until at least the Tuesday after.

It was around the end of August when she un-paused her dating apps. After Sexy Hands Guy and Bella Boy, she had gone a couple weeks without talking to any guys. As mentioned in recent chapters, she was then able to focus on herself and get her shit together a little more than she had been.

She decided to un-pause her profiles mainly out of boredom. Almost immediately, her phone was blowing up with Likes. That’s really how they get ya, eh? The dopamine overload that floods your brain is very overwhelming. She went through her likes and matched with a few guys, including a sexy, black, British guy. He had commented on one of her pics and he seemed really normal, especially compared to the dating app trash she had been chatting with so far, so she replied.

They chatted for a bit that night and she found out he was a single dad who had moved to Canada to be with his (now ex)girlfriend and mother of his child. During that first conversation he already asked about meeting up. Again, she told him she was apprehensive but, to her surprise, he was super understanding about it. He had shared custody of his daughter so he was only available certain times a week. They arranged for tentative plans about two weeks from their first conversation.

In the meantime, they just kept chatting and getting to know each other. It was clear to her that he was a diamond in the rough because their conversation didn’t once turn sexual. At the same time though, that might have been why she got a little bored with him. That, and once she got that new message from her friend’s high school boyfriend, her attention was immediately swayed. She ended up messaging this British guy and saying that she just wasn’t ready to meet up with anyone, but wished him the best. She unmatched with him before he could reply.

There’s definitely some things there that she needed to unpack with her therapist. Was the chance to have a meaningful, mentally stimulating conversation on a real date with a nice guy, less enticing to her than a grammatically incorrect (on his part) text convo with a friend’s ex boyfriend from high school?…

Yep, that tracks.

Continue to Chapter Thirty

Chapter Twenty Eight

It was now mid September. The last cottage trip of the summer was coming up that weekend. She had just finished work and was waiting in line at the pot shop near her bus stop to stock up for the season’s last hoorah. Despite Covid and all the restrictions that came from the pandemic, she knew how fortunate she was to have gotten a good bubble going early, and to have been able to experience all that she had that summer.

As she continued to wait in line, she checked her phone and saw a notification on one of her dating apps. She was surprised to see that it was from her friend’s high school boyfriend again. As mentioned before, he had first liked her on Facebook Dating, which she had laughed off and X’d him out. Except then, a few weeks later, he had liked her on Bumble, as well. That second time was enough to spark her curiosity, so she went ahead and matched with him.

They chatted briefly the day they had matched. She asked him if he even knew who she was, which he did, and they talked about high school and what they both had been up to since then. It was a quick conversation that didn’t go very far, so you can imagine her surprise to receive that notification from him. Before diving in to this online dating story, however, it’s important to backtrack a few weeks – back to July, when she had paused all her dating apps.

As you know, she had wanted to cool it with the online dating because she knew she wasn’t really ready to meet anyone, so why waste anyone’s time? She wanted to focus on herself, which she did do. And she was able to make great strides in her life, both physically and mentally. However, what we glossed over a few chapters ago, was that the exact day she had hidden her dating profiles and had decided to commit to refocusing on herself, she had gotten a text from someone she really hadn’t expected to hear from again – Sexy Hands Guy.

In typical male fashion, Sexy Hands Guy appeared to have some kind of fucking radar that must have gone off that day – “Alert! Alert! She’s doing well and not thinking of you at all! Text her! Text her!” – The day she decides she doesn’t want to think about guys, is the exact day he messages her after weeks of no contact. His radar had also jumped in to action a few months prior when he had randomly texted after she had visited her brother out at the other end of the city. Coincidentally, her brother lived basically within walking distance of him. (How did he know she was out that way?! How do they know this stuff!?!?)

This time, however, he told her that he was thinking about her and that he had been looking at pics she had sent him when they had first started talking. He asked her again if she would be up for getting together. With restrictions lifting to Phase 3 at the time, every time a guy asked to meet up with her, she no longer had the Covid excuse. Even though they were, and still are, in the middle of a pandemic, not meeting up because of Covid seemed silly now that she was back to work and already out in the world every single day.

Even though she knew she wasn’t ready to meet up with anyone and how anxious she felt at the thought of it, the idea of hooking up with someone did still excite her. And the thing was, though, she had already met Sexy Hands Guy. The fear of the unknown wasn’t there when she thought about him. Now that he had texted her, she couldn’t stop thinking about the two of them between the sheets, just intertwined in each other, making each other feel good. So as much as she was trying to change and to grow, clearly some habits were harder to break than others…

She left him on Read for a couple hours, and replied on her way home from work. Her parents would be away the following weekend and, despite her better judgement, she felt compelled to invite him over. She ended her text with, “If you’re still interested?” To which he replied with a dick pic saying, “We’re definitely still interested!”

Annoying dick pic aside, she all of a sudden had butterflies again – despite how many times she had turned him down, he still wanted her. She felt desired, which made her disregard all his horrible qualities. (That statement could relate to literally any guy she’s ever been with) Still, this rendezvous wasn’t set until a week and a half later, so who knew if it would actually happen or not?

Along with getting a message from Sexy Hands Guy, that exact same day she had also received a message from another guy she had matched with before she had hidden her profiles. She didn’t realize that people she’d already matched with could still see her profile or contact her after she’d taken a pause – but they could.

“Hey bella”, read the message. She smirked and thought “Omg, how corny.” But she re-checked his profile and her jaw dropped. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He had a perfectly chiseled jaw line, light scruff, shaved bald head, olive skin and piercing, husky blue eyes. How had she forgotten that she matched with a super model like that?!

She found out quickly that he was half Greek, half Lebanese, which made the “hey bella” thing slightly less cheesy (only slightly). He lived in another province, a short 3-hour drive away. She was grateful for the distance. It made for a good excuse not to meet, whenever it would come time that he’d ask her. They began chatting, and the conversation turned sexual very quickly. So much for not thinking about guys…

Continue to Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Seven

She had gotten so much out of that yoga session and she was relieved to have had her realization about her dog. She was actively trying to look at her situation in a new light, now. She felt positive about the path she was on and yet, any mental and emotional progress she had made that evening was booted right out the door less than a week later at the dentist.

For months she had been experiencing pain between her back two teeth. Whenever she ate, food would get stuck between those teeth and the pain she felt was more than excruciating. She would have to floss the shit out of it after every meal, which also hurt like a mother. After years of never having insurance at work, she finally did at her new place of employment, so she made an appointment with her dentist. She arrived for her appointment and was blown away by the Covid safety measures put in place. These dentists were not fucking around.

She was escorted into the room where the hygienist asked the preliminary questions. She explained the situation and the hygienist checked her back tooth. “The dentist will be in shortly to take a closer look,” she said as she breezed through the heavy-duty plastic lining that filled the doorway. When the dentist came in, she quickly checked her back teeth and said, “I’m glad you came in when you did. You have a cavity so deep that if you had waited even a few more weeks, this filling I’m about to do would have been a root canal.”

She barely had a second to process that information because, truly, at the speed of light, the dentist and her hygienist were hard at work fixing her fucked up mouth. From below the face-shielded masked faces and four gloved hands that were working so in sync with each other she swore it was choreographed, she thought about how unexpected this diagnosis was. She had never had a cavity in her entire life. She had always gone to the dentist like clock work and never once did she leave with a bad report. That is, she went to the dentist all the time – BEFORE – she had met her ex.

Early in their relationship she had had a dentist appointment and her (ex)boyfriend was extremely dismissive of it. He basically shamed her for going. “Have you ever gone to the dentist and had them tell you something was wrong?” he would ask. No, she hadn’t. (But that’s because she always went to the fucking dentist). “It’s a waste of money and time,” he’d continue. “It’s not needed unless something is actually wrong!”

She scoffed at his flawed logic at the time but months later when her next appointment came up, his arrogant, know-it-all attitude convinced her not to go. And she hadn’t gone since. Almost 8 years, no dentist. And this was the result. Escaping a root canal by the skin of her teeth (pun absolutely intended). As she lay there in the chair, mouth agape, she could feel the hot rage tears stream down her temples and into her hair.

She was very aware that some of the blame did fall on her. She could have very easily said “fuck you” and made a dentist appointment anyway. But he had her completely mind fucked. She was brainwashed into thinking that his word was gospel. Plus, she knew the shaming and belittling she would have received if she had come home from a dental cleaning and had had to pay for them to tell her nothing was wrong. But now, here she was 7 years and 8 months later, paying close to $200 of the money she really didn’t have (and that’s with insurance covering most of it), to fix this problem. A problem that would not have occurred, or at least not have gotten so bad, had she not been under his control.

She was angry at herself, but she was so fucking angry at him as well. All the pain and hurt and rage she felt the day they fought about soup, had all come back in a tidal wave of tears. She sat in the driver’s seat after her appointment, the hole in her teeth freshly filled with some smooth material she couldn’t stop tonguing, and just cried and screamed and cried some more. Even then, months and months after she had left him, he was still fucking her over. It took some long texting conversations with her friends to bring her back down to reality.

Basically, it is what it is, she realized. Getting irrationally angry about it wasn’t going to change anything. It just brought to light, though, that despite feeling like she had really moved on, her healing would definitely take time. And despite her best efforts, she knew she could still be triggered by random things for the foreseeable future. All the trauma she experienced with him wasn’t just going to go away simply because she had removed herself from the situation. She could, however, decide how she would react to those triggers. Perhaps having a mental breakdown over a tooth filling wasn’t the most productive way to deal with her feelings. But it helped her learn for the next time she might encounter something like that. And she breathed a little easier knowing that she had addressed these emotions and could now move forward from them.

But also, fuck that guy! (insert middle finger emoji here).

Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty Eight. New chapters posted every Wednesday at 8pm, EST.