Predicated on a lie
10/29/2005
Let’s be clear (clearer) than I’ve been. Clarity is good.
It was not about the sex. It was never about the sex. I have sex- I have had sex (quite a bit as a matter of fact).
Sure it’s humiliating and embarrassing to find out your worth, but that was my worth to another, not to myself.
The essence of the matter is that before there was sex, there was friendship (or a reasonable facsimile thereof). I shared things I’ve never told my older sister (yes, I do hold back some things, it’s better that way). I revealed pieces of what makes me me. Based on the premise that I had built a friendship, I divulged facts and figures (No, not that figure, if anyone asks, I say three. It’s a good number three.).
So this path, down which I travel with some interesting coconspirators, this explosive anger that seeped through my world, had nothing to do with sex-it had nothing to do with my heart- it was all about the ultimate mindfuck.
I’ve heard from my Foreign Affairs Bureau that sentiments expressed include a lack of surprise (“Of course he did that, I mean you were so far away, what did you expect some stranger to do?”). I have to say, this behavior has nothing to do with geography (as there are other survivors much closer to home).
I could just as easily meet someone downtown and have the same experience. Quite truthfully, I have (less dramatic, less blog show and tell, same sad story). Location and proximity have little correlation to honesty.
There has been concern expressed regarding my future forays into the dating world and my dealings with men. I will be just as likely to go on dates with them. I will be just as likely to fuck them on the first date (I’m very good at what I do). I will be far less likely to believe them.
And that is what pisses me off.