The Viking Saga
The next afternoon I see the Viking at the gym. I’m there with my best bud—with whom I had, of course, already gone over all the details about the night before when we’d had coffee that morning—and I’m all excited and giggly inside. We walk over to say hi. We're in a busy public place, so I don't really say much more than "I had a fantastic time with you last night, and it's great to see you today." He laughs and says "I was so drunk last night."
A couple of hours later, I call the Viking. His phone must be off, because it goes to voicemail immediately, and I leave a message, telling him again what I great time I had, and that I hoped to see him soon. That I’m sorry he had to see the sad version of myself on Friday, but that I was glad that he got to see a happier version on Saturday. That I was looking forward to returning to my normal self for good.
Yeah. I know. It was just on the verge of being psycho. I’ve noticed this a lot lately. I’ll be trying to tell people that I’m feeling okay, doing better, and then I realize that there’s something in my voice and facial expression like a rope being pulled too tight and I start to wonder when they’re going to start backing away slowly from the crazy man who keeps saying “I’m not crazy, seriously!” over and over while trying to stifle the giggles spilling out of his mouth.
But, of course, it gets worse. This is where I become even more of an idiot.
For the next several days, there I am, waiting for my damn phone to ring. It doesn’t, of course, and it fucking kills me. Every time it does ring, my heart starts racing, but it's never him. I try to tell myself that even if nothing ever ends up happening between us again, at least I had one night of fantastic sex with an extraordinarily hot man. But that's little comfort. I have convinced myself, for the moment, that he could have been the one and that I have let a legitimate chance at happiness slip away. I feel like I've completely screwed up everything. And I know, at the same time, that I am an utter fool for letting my emotions get away from me like that. I'm just having a fucking hard time telling my heart to calm down and take it easy.
And I keep hearing his words: “I was so drunk last night.” I make another fatal mistake: I try to analyze what he meant. Was this a dismissal? An excuse? Was he implying that wouldn’t have hooked up with me if he had been sober? Or should I just take his statement at face value, like a normal person would? We did have several drinks that night, and although he didn’t seem drunk to me, he did say early on that he was something of a lightweight. And what was up with the HIV disclosure? Was it just conversation? Was it an easy way for him to tell me this in an off-hand way, so that he wouldn't have to do so awkwardly in the heat of the moment if things went in that direction? Was it his way of giving me an easy out, in case I was freaked by it? Or was there no significance at all...simply just part of getting to know him better? I brood on all of this for the next few days.
Sometimes I legitimately start to wonder if I really have gone crazy. I think that "manic depressive" sounds a bit excessive to describe what I’m going through, but I've really been on a roller coaster lately. And I’ve noticed that I have even started talking to myself. I really do. So far it only happens when I’m at home alone (the ex has been out of town for over a week). A thought will get stuck in my head and I’ll actually start whispering phrases, out loud, over and over to myself. “I’m going crazy. I’m going crazy. And I’m going crazy. I’m talking to myself. I’m talking to myself.” Yeah, just like that. Sometimes the repeated phrases are filled with self doubt: “Nobody is ever going to love me again. Nobody is ever going to love me again.” Out loud. What is up with that?
In my clearer moments, I know that it has nothing to do with the Viking, necessarily. It’s about my fear of rejection. The ex rejected me; now I’m distraught that the Viking is rejecting me (again). That, after sleeping with me, he decided "Nah, I'd rather not do THAT with him again." And I'm mad at myself for letting myself feel like this. My pulse is racing, and I'm sure my blood pressure is through the ceiling. The steroids cannot be helping.
Love sucks, dating sucks, being abandoned sucks. And I know that “abandoned” sounds awfully overdramatic, but seriously, come on. Being single sucks.
The sex, however, was just incredible. And the delirious giddy sense of "maybe he likes me" is such a thrill even when it turns out to be short lived.
I guess that's why we put ourselves through it.
A couple of hours later, I call the Viking. His phone must be off, because it goes to voicemail immediately, and I leave a message, telling him again what I great time I had, and that I hoped to see him soon. That I’m sorry he had to see the sad version of myself on Friday, but that I was glad that he got to see a happier version on Saturday. That I was looking forward to returning to my normal self for good.
Yeah. I know. It was just on the verge of being psycho. I’ve noticed this a lot lately. I’ll be trying to tell people that I’m feeling okay, doing better, and then I realize that there’s something in my voice and facial expression like a rope being pulled too tight and I start to wonder when they’re going to start backing away slowly from the crazy man who keeps saying “I’m not crazy, seriously!” over and over while trying to stifle the giggles spilling out of his mouth.
But, of course, it gets worse. This is where I become even more of an idiot.
For the next several days, there I am, waiting for my damn phone to ring. It doesn’t, of course, and it fucking kills me. Every time it does ring, my heart starts racing, but it's never him. I try to tell myself that even if nothing ever ends up happening between us again, at least I had one night of fantastic sex with an extraordinarily hot man. But that's little comfort. I have convinced myself, for the moment, that he could have been the one and that I have let a legitimate chance at happiness slip away. I feel like I've completely screwed up everything. And I know, at the same time, that I am an utter fool for letting my emotions get away from me like that. I'm just having a fucking hard time telling my heart to calm down and take it easy.
And I keep hearing his words: “I was so drunk last night.” I make another fatal mistake: I try to analyze what he meant. Was this a dismissal? An excuse? Was he implying that wouldn’t have hooked up with me if he had been sober? Or should I just take his statement at face value, like a normal person would? We did have several drinks that night, and although he didn’t seem drunk to me, he did say early on that he was something of a lightweight. And what was up with the HIV disclosure? Was it just conversation? Was it an easy way for him to tell me this in an off-hand way, so that he wouldn't have to do so awkwardly in the heat of the moment if things went in that direction? Was it his way of giving me an easy out, in case I was freaked by it? Or was there no significance at all...simply just part of getting to know him better? I brood on all of this for the next few days.
Sometimes I legitimately start to wonder if I really have gone crazy. I think that "manic depressive" sounds a bit excessive to describe what I’m going through, but I've really been on a roller coaster lately. And I’ve noticed that I have even started talking to myself. I really do. So far it only happens when I’m at home alone (the ex has been out of town for over a week). A thought will get stuck in my head and I’ll actually start whispering phrases, out loud, over and over to myself. “I’m going crazy. I’m going crazy. And I’m going crazy. I’m talking to myself. I’m talking to myself.” Yeah, just like that. Sometimes the repeated phrases are filled with self doubt: “Nobody is ever going to love me again. Nobody is ever going to love me again.” Out loud. What is up with that?
In my clearer moments, I know that it has nothing to do with the Viking, necessarily. It’s about my fear of rejection. The ex rejected me; now I’m distraught that the Viking is rejecting me (again). That, after sleeping with me, he decided "Nah, I'd rather not do THAT with him again." And I'm mad at myself for letting myself feel like this. My pulse is racing, and I'm sure my blood pressure is through the ceiling. The steroids cannot be helping.
Love sucks, dating sucks, being abandoned sucks. And I know that “abandoned” sounds awfully overdramatic, but seriously, come on. Being single sucks.
The sex, however, was just incredible. And the delirious giddy sense of "maybe he likes me" is such a thrill even when it turns out to be short lived.
I guess that's why we put ourselves through it.
posted by M. at 6:07 PM
3 Comments:
One things for certain. This is certainly a more interesting blog! ;-)
"Sometimes the repeated phrases are filled with self doubt: “Nobody is ever going to love me again. Nobody is ever going to love me again.” Out loud. What is up with that?"
I realize it's not the kind of love you're talking about, but you know you'll ALWAYS be loved, silly!
You know, reading your blog assures me that I'm not crazy because I've felt just about everything you've described.
There's nothing wrong with talking to yourself. You only have to worry when you refuse to talk to yourself anymore and give yourself the cold shoulder.
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