I wasn’t always like this; I wasn’t always this woman who exudes sex and femininity and yet runs screaming at any sign of commitment. There was a time in my life when I didn’t have trust issues, when I freely loved with my whole heart, not waiting for the other stiletto to drop because they were all in my closet, perfectly paired. So what happened, you ask?
Once upon a time, I was married.
It’s not much of a story really. Same cliche tale thousands of women have told for decades— I was young and stupid!
Long story short, Mr. Dickhead and I met when we were teenagers, just after high school. We worked together, he had a nice ass and so I pursued him (some things never change). He was supposed to be a one night stand (again, some things never change), but it was fun to hang out and party with him. After 5 months of partying and fucking ( I think he was a virgin because I had to teach him A LOT), I ended up pregnant. Out of an obligation to “do the right thing”, we got married.
Like I said— young and stupid!
Life after marriage was anything but happily ever after with Mr. Dickhead! Try a life filled with infidelity, verbal and emotional abuse that later escalated to physical abuse and alcoholism.
I stayed with him because we had a family together. I stayed with him out of fear and feeling like I had no way out. I stayed with him out of obligation and because deep down I don’t believe in divorce.
After years of feeling trapped in a loveless marriage, the final straw came one autumn night when, on my darkest day, he outright refused to be there for me because it was an inconvenience to him. That’s when I found the strength to walk away and never look back!
Next Stop: Commitment Phobia!
I remember crying all the way home from the first date I had after my separation. In some fucked up way I felt like I was cheating, which was pretty hilarious since he deserved a taste of his own medicine and yet I remained faithful through our entire sham of a marriage. Ah, hind sight…
It took me a while to find my old awesome self, but eventually I did. Getting divorced was the best decision, but it left enough baggage and damage that my heart probably looks like the run way at Logan after a crash—disaster!
Since Mr. Dickhead wasn’t the first, nor the last, bad decision I made when it came to men, I decided that commitment was no longer something I wanted. Fuck ’em and forget ’em seemed much more my speed and style, plus it’s fun and no one gets hurt because no one gets attached. (Did you ever read about what I did with my engagement ring?)
No commitment; in fact I would legit hyperventilate at the though of a guy showing any sign of the “c” word. No labels, no exclusivity, no define this relationship talk, hell, no relationships (at least not anything significant)!
It was a nice, safe, cozy little bubble to be in.
My Journey (Halfway) Back from Commitment Phobia!
There I was, living in my blissful state of commitment phobia, serial dating and sport fucking… until I met him!
Who knew that a Christmas shopping trip to the mall would land me in a (gasp) relationship?! I certainly never fucking saw this shit coming! But it did.
We’ve pushed each other away and pulled one another back in. We’ve had blow out fights and then come back together stronger after a few days break to regroup and reassess. We’ve broken down walls, sorted through baggage, and unpacked a lot of shit over the past 2 years. We’ve seen a lot of ups and far too many downs together, and we’ve made it through all of them, intact.
I guess I just needed a hard ass in my life, someone just as alpha as I am who was adult enough to give me my space and be patient with me, but who also wasn’t going to put up with my commitment phobia games. Basically it took finding someone, by chance, who not only saw through my bullshit, but called me on it and helped me work through it.
I’ll admit I kinda like this place. But not enough to fully let my guard down. I still have major trust issues. Time heals all wounds though, isn’t that what they say?
My journey is far from over, but I’m halfway there.