CAPTAIN'S BLOG
The Impression That I GetI've been on a few dates.
None of them have that same connection we shared. Fuck, I just want to move on. I'm so tired of thinking about you all the goddamn time. The time before I go to sleep is the still the worst. When I'm about to kiss someone is another. And there's also the ending song of Dragon Ball Supers second season. Beyond The Sea. Halloween. My birthday. Christmas is going to suck a lot. That hill on clark where we got stuck in the snow - the place on Clark where I cut those disappointingly filthy daffodils. My girlfriend in Mass Effect 3. Of course she looks like you. Ugh. She talks about how she can't believe she's in love with the ships captain. "My girlfriend, Captain of the Normandy!" and your goddamn face pops into my head, holding hands with you in front of The Princeton. It's annoying, it's stupid, it's frustrating, it's depressing. I see punks walking down Clark and my heart jumps into my throat. At least I haven't seen you. I certainly try to avoid you. Generally, I prefer to take Nanaimo. But I also resent that I change my routine because of you, because I'm sure you don't give a fuck if you see me or if you don't. You'll just say "Oh I used to date that girl." and move on. I tell people about what happened. About what you said about me, about my cousin and I. I know you don't care, but they don't see a big problem with what I did. Neither did my therapist. Or my mother. But they're not you. They often ask me if our relationship was any good. And, you know, it wasn't. The sex was good - the eye contact was amazing. The kissing was amazing. The communicating started out strong, but it faded. I cried a lot. In secret. God forbid you thought I was desperate. Or not confident. You said it often enough, that you didn't like desperation, it brought back old fears of mine, when other women said the same, but much more directly. But I figured if I was doing such a thing, you'd tell me. You did, after all, tell me you would. And you had what seemed like much more difficult conversations with Freya. And with me. I know I did not often handle things well. I was not the person I usually was when I was with you, and that frustrates me. I was madly in love with you, and I was blind to the red flags. I was also sick for like 6 months. I also hate the winter. It hurt me when you'd go on at length about guys. It's not that you'd mentioned them that bothers me - maybe less often would be nice, but I never shut up about women so I guess it's fair play. But I tried to work on my feelings about men, and still very much am working on it. You never mentioned me in your future plans or dreams. Your new years resolution was to fuck a lot of guys. That's cool, I wanna get fucked by a lot of chicks, but I still wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to drink with you under the rail road tracks, roll around in the grass in the park with you. Did you still want to do those things then, or was it already too late? Or maybe you were just drunk. I can get it. I should have asked, but when you talk about how much you don't like weakness or desperation, shouldn't I just be strong and trust in our love? Towards the end, it started to feel like it was just about the sex to you. What was our last date, exactly? Getting physical with me in a bar? I enjoyed it a lot, but in retrospect I felt.. used. Was that your last desperate attempt to save us? Why not just say to me hey, that story about your cousin freaked me out? And instead of judging and condemning me right away, giving me some time to think? Maybe trust me a bit? But I suppose your capacity to trust has been compromised by events in your childhood. I do my best to understand that. No doubt, the suffering I'm going through now pales in comparison to the suffering you went through. I can only guess that this was hard for you too. It just sucks that there is no way through this suffering for me except to wait. Wait until I forget about you, wait until the memories of you and us no longer invade my mind like a Vietnam vet. Wait until I don't cry when driving past any of the places we've been together. Try and hold it together when songs like Pictures to Prove It come on. I have many regrets about our relationship. I regret how it ended, I regret holding myself back at the start, and not holding back when I asked you what love was to you and you barely had an answer. I should have asked you then, but oh god, I just wanted to keep looking into your eyes and kissing your lips. Even one more time was worth holding my tongue. And then you'd look into my eyes and we fell onto Cassidy's bed kissing and my worries melted away. And then I'd cry after dropping you off at the ferry terminal and I wasn't sure why. I reminded myself that I was in love with a true Wild Woman, and that my heart would be challenged by being in love with someone like you. But I reminded myself that it was worth it to have a woman like you in my life. I also regret, quite acutely, how I reacted to your decision to escort. It was driven by fear, and envy. Fear for your life, of losing you, (oh sweet irony) and envy for doing something I don't have the energy - or body - to do. It reminded me of my failures to succeed, deep and varied, and all that emotion fueled my fears for your safety. I pictured you needing me, and unable to ask for my help. Saying I wasn't sure if I could be with you if you would do that was asinine, and plain false. Again, I needed to work on my own issues, this time with envy and anxiety, and I fortunately did very quickly. But the damage was done, the words left my mouth and I saw your cold, distant stare for the first time. I also regret how I handled that party we went to. You asked if you spent time with that girl if I'd be jealous, and I said I would. It's true I would have, but I would have been ok. Especially with a little extra attention from you, like finding someone for me to hang out with (or even better, flirt with) or hey, including me. And if you said look, this is an opportunity I won't have again, I'd be a little hurt but we can just see each other again, right? I'm your girlfriend, a one night stand or even a continuing casual relationship are fine by me. Even having two girlfriends. I'm a jealous person, but I am also a polyamorous one. I explained very little of this to you at the time, and that was a mistake. You never brought it up again so I assume it didn't bother you, but I can't really be certain about that kind of thing anymore, can I? I know time was becoming a very big concern for you, at the end. You've got goals and aspirations and I didn't want to interfere with any of that. I was going to suggest we meet less often but for longer, but of course I didn't get that chance. But maybe you should have been more understanding and less judgemental. Maybe you should have understood that no one is perfect. I have made many mistakes - some I regret more than others. My childhood was filled with loneliness and anxiety, and I found outlets in many ways, some of which I regret intensely. I've spoken with my therapist about those events as well, and I've come to understand why I did the things I did. If I could go back and change it, I would. But I was a child then, just as I was a child when I was pining after my cousin. I still don't know if I should regret what happened with my cousin or not. But oh god, I regret that it came between us. If I could have told that lonely little boy to just be patient, someone more appropriate will come along in time, but back then all I knew was someone cared about me and it was someone I could trust to be vulnerable with, my true self. And ultimately, that was the problem with our relationship. I didn't feel safe being vulnerable with you, emotionally. You wouldn't even let me have a piece of the punk identity - an identity I think I qualify for. Sure, I should have fought harder, but you didn't even listen, really. I was a freak in high school. We didn't have many punks, but we had a lot of emo kids and freaks. I wore baggy black pants and, well, listened to whatever music I damn well pleased. Those people were my friends, and they shaped me and who I am today. Maybe I don't owe my life to punk-dom, but I definitely needed somewhere to call home and those freaks welcomed me and my weirdness. Remember me joking about us both being assholes? Well, I guess I was right about at least one of us. Sigh. I don't know if I want you back or not. But I'd give anything to talk to you again. I've never had to knock on wood. But I know someone who has. It makes me wonder if I could And it makes me wonder if I could Cause I'm sure it isn't good And I'm glad I haven't yet That's the impression that I get.
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AuthorChristina Hitchens is a trans female writer living in BC, Canada. She loves computers, animals, and a good argument. Archives
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