I went on this crazy pilgrimage to purge my past of all the shit.
I went everywhere. College, the town where I spent my childhood, my teenager years, the place where I was born…
And I met The Ex in my college town. It seemed fitting. At a hotel with a rainbow sprouting overtop the roof. I waited for him for hours and when he finally got there I fell into him kissing. We checked in. We made love. We made love twice that night. We talked and held one another. He worked the next day. We made love at the end of the workday. We went to get pizza.
His wife texted. And texted and texted. And called.
And he left because she was crying and he had to.
It was… the most beautiful devastation I have ever felt.
Ed who I thought was stalwart.
Ed who I thought saw through me to the very bottom. Ed and me – I thought nothing could even come close to breaking us. This broke him.
In the horror of the situation and me coming home and then him having to leave again for work for an entire week I broke too. I stayed strong for awhile. I took all the verbal abusive invasion – the asking for the play by play of what happened between the ex and me until it read in my mind like a dirty pornography with Ed watching than as the close and loving gentle and firm thing that it was. The Exe’s eyes haunt me. He’s too busy this week for us to talk.
I wish I smoked. I’d smoke like a fiend this week.
Something to occupy my fingers.
It’s his anniversary with his wife this week.
I should be feeling over the moon for them.
And you know… I do. I don’t want to be with The Ex. Not permanently. Just small doses. Just amazing weekends. I want him to tell me he loves me like he did for the first time in years when he was inside me. I want to get that look that is somehow reserved just for me. I want to hold his hand and lay my head on his chest as the sun comes up over the hotel bed in the morning and laugh about how we’re eating terrible horrible things. But then I want to say goodbye. Kiss in a lingering fashion. Go home to my Ed. Go home to that bed. Go home to that stability and awesomeness and sheer force of power like the world has never seen.
We’ve been doing an awful lot of talking. Ed and me. The Ex has barely spoken to me since it happened – though he has reassured me that he’s not going anywhere, that he loves me still, that he misses me, that he can’t wait to see me again… and Ed is… he wants me to be able to see the Ex. He wants to be okay with everything. He sees how I light up. How it’s good for me. How I’m… I don’t know. Polyamorous I guess, even though I feel wrong admitting it.But it hurts him. It burns him like a liquid sword. I get it and I don’t. For me, I have all sorts of self-loathing. This is mainly because I realize how entirely different I am and have always been from the mainstream of society. Some days I pride myself on this. Other days I’d give anything to be “normal”. Content with being content. But I’m who I am and I can’t change it. I’ve tried shoving it all down and it just squirms out or overflows at some inopportune time. The worst part is that I feel like there is no one I can talk to about everything but The Roommate, and she’s 18 hours away. You can’t just call her up and meet her for coffee – not without some extensive planning and some extra cash lying around.
Today I’m in Ed’s favorite shirt. I sent him dirty pictures for the first time ever. The whole thing has opened up all sorts of sexual things for me. I feel like this is a good thing. He sees it as good too – and I’m trying not to feel too guilty for corrupting him.
It’s funny because I keep asking God what to do next – what step to take – and here I am sleeping with my married Ex Boyfriend and seeing a rainbow over the hotel and talking about rules for polyamory with my husband. Either God isn’t what we think He is, or my brain is telling me to just do the things I want, and the thing I think is God is really me, and God guess doesn’t exist, because if he did and he cared, he’d be making that clear.
The day before I met The Ex at the hotel my Woo-Woo friend D met me in the city and annointed me with all sorts of oils and did a smudging thing to get rid of negativity and negative spirits. It made me cry. Good tears. I wanted to kiss her but I didn’t. I regret this.
The Pilgrimage wasn’t just about banging my Ex Boyfriend or seeing my Woo-Woo Friend D. I went back to places where I’d been abused as a kid. Places where my parents had said wonderful or awful things to me. Places that helped me realize who I was and how I’d got there.
I just hope that eventually my brain will have the time to process it.
Right now I’m so focused on Ed and me I can barely function.
Yes. I loved having sex with The Ex. But I love what I have with Ed more. It’s oxygen. Sex with the Ex is… something like walking among pretty trees.