Sweet boy told me the other day that my blog is a roller coaster – so strap in motherfuckers. I’m going from flowers and gratitude with Misty, to what feels like my heart in a blender with Sweet boy. My response to him was “This is what happens when you care about more than one person.”

I wish he would tell me to fuck off. To leave him alone. To even simply stop messaging him. Say something like, “Becca, I thought I could do the friend thing with you, but this isn’t working out either. So it’s going to have to be good-bye.”

Maybe I just need to pretend he said that to me.

I talked to Steph today and she asked me a bunch of thoughtful questions. What did you love about your time with him? Why do you still want him in your life? What do you think you were missing that he was able to get into your heart?

It helps to know that she has been there. Just last year she met a man, and they had a deep connection and then he just kind of up and faded out of her life. She is very happily married in an open relationship. She has since taken a break from the boys scene, still not fully recovered.

“Steph, we have fucked and played with all kinds of gorgeous, sweet, fun people! And not ONCE have I felt the burning desire to let someone into my heart like this. Not a single fucking time.” I said to her today on the phone. I stood on my back deck looking at the mountains, wishing for a feeling-ectomy.

“I wasn’t looking for anything, I didn’t feel like there was (or is) anything missing in my life. My life is full. He is so different from *boy-side’s name here*. I’m not sure what he said or did, or maybe it was expressing his fantasies to me, but something in me wanted to help him SO MUCH. I feel like I experienced what so many boys feel… that ‘Rescue the Girl’ syndrome. I also felt like he was genuinely interested in getting to know ME, which felt amazing. And the more I learned about him the more I wanted to know! He kept insisting he isn’t interesting but I would always tell him he was to me.

I always knew he would find someone there (where he lives), and I was an interlude. I guess I just wanted more time? More of him?” I paused for a moment, trying to listen to what my heart was saying.

“I wanted him to care about me too. I really wanted to mean something to him. Be important to him. A life accomplice.” I felt the truth of it as soon as I said the words – and then I thought about all the reasons why.

“I love that we have so much in common. Parenting, music, kinks, food, that we both like kind of nerdy things like space, and we have similar left-ist views of the world. That he is a grouchy, introverted goof ball that loves his kids and his friends. That he would tease me and I would tease him back. Oh my god, is he sassy and stubborn! God, I love his kinky streak, and I wanted so badly to explore that with him. I love his softness. I never told him I loved his hands. I love his facial expressions – god he can be goofy! And his voice – which he doesn’t like – I wanted to hear more of. I love that he shared some of his story with me – I don’t think he does that with many people. But I could be wrong. Fuck Steph, I don’t know. The one thing I DO know is that my heart wants him in my life. I want to know more about who he is and how he got to be the person he is. I want to care for him. Even if he doesn’t care about me. How seriously fucked up is that? So fucking fucked up.

Maybe I was just put on his path to help him through this life hump he’s been going through. He has said to me a few times that I have helped him feel better about himself, given him confidence in an otherwise personally difficult time. And I love that I could do that, be that for him. I love that. But I think, if this is all the universe had intended, it is massively fucking unfair that I am the one holding the shit-bag of feelings. And he can just be done.” I let out an exasperated, teary sigh as I finished my rant.

“Bec, I know you don’t want to, but maybe you need to let go. You’re trying to hold on to this ‘friendship’ because of hope. You hope he is going to magically see you differently. I know. I’ve been there. And he didn’t.” She said to me gently.

“You’re right. I don’t want to.” I joked and we laughed a little.

“I know, girl.” she responded and it felt like a hug.