It seems silly to put a trigger warning here, because there's like a grand total of, what, two people who read my blog? But I'll put it anyway just incase.
So yeah this is a not okay thing, I'm just trying to figure everything out, and I don't think I was ever confident enough to write or even think about this because it seemed like everything was my fault and if I felt violated it was just me being oversensitive and dumb. Because we know I overreact. This has been acknowledged as a basic part of my personality since forever ago and only until 10th grade did I stop telling people, "No, this isn't overreacting, this is appropriate." and just accept that it's going to be that way. I guess with Robert it was the same thing - I must have been overreacting, because I always do. Because that's me. Even now I don't know how much into detail I can get, and not even for the sake of Maarya and Tyler; I just seriously don't know if I can think about it at length without feeling guilty or somehow wrong again.
But the idea to write this originally came because Maarya asked, "Do you know the feeling of wanting to lay and cuddle with a person but explicitly not wanting sex?" and I was going to say, "Yeah, that's Robert." but it seemed extraneous to say that so I didn't, but the idea stuck.
I mean, yes, there was a time not very long ago where I was not happy with anything that was going on and the only person who seemed to care enough or understand enough was Robert (because he did care, then) and I genuinely wanted him to be my best friend forever. That was the only thing I wanted, though. There was no romantic interest at all; I was perfectly content just sitting there and talking about whatever came to mind, because it put me at ease, if only just for a little while. He was my best friend and there was a time when I thought about why we would ever not be friends and genuinely could not come up with an answer. I couldn't understand why we'd argue. What would we ever disagree on, and why would it matter so much that we'd stop talking? I remember where I was when I thought that - ironically, only across the street from the bench that Maarya and I sat at when she lay her head on my lap. It seems so weird that that happened only two weeks after Robert happened. I think of the two events on separate timelines, and they don't intersect anywhere except the nights when I made the mistake of introspecting.
Yuliya and I were at the library studying for APUSH when I texted Robert and asked if he could come, because Yuliya was starting to get grating and I didn't think I could handle the constant criticism anymore. He came, we sat around for a bit, then moved to the dock, where Yuliya eventually left because she couldn't handle the outdoors. It got cold. I had a jacket. Things unfolded and we were hugging and it was okay because he didn't bother me like the rest of the world did. He asked if he could kiss me and I distinctly said, "No, that would not be okay.", so he didn't.
I mean, it did start innocently enough, and nicely enough, too. I actually cared. He actually cared. I loved him, although not in anything beyond a close friendship. I reckon the problem was that he loved me in a sexual way as well as a platonic way, and I was loose enough with my inhibitions that I was okay with whatever.
When did I even have my first kiss? I can't remember; I think it was the afternoon after the APUSH exam. It was exciting then, but the walk back was bitter and wrong, because that was not what it was meant to be, at all.
See, it was always okay while it was happening, because the line between friendships and relationships are really blurred for me once I get to a certain point. I end up loving anyone I am close enough to, it's only a matter of whether the love is reciprocated or not. And as soon as I walked away I felt a weird unease in my stomach, like I was not heading where I wanted to be heading, even though everything during the daytime pointed to the opposite. I was sad when he asked out Jordan, or demoted me to a second choice, or stopped talking to me altogether. Perhaps that was a pride thing; I don't like being second-best.
Would it have been worth while, to have bitten off the matter with a smile, to have squeezed the universe into a ball, to roll it towrd some overwhelming question, to say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all!" - if one, settling a pillow by her head, should say: "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all."
And there was the week in late June/early July that was perhaps the worst week in the world, not because it felt horrible while I was doing it, but because in retrospect I really was acting rashly and not thinking through my decisions. This was not a peculiar thing only I noticed, either; he pointed out several times, "I would continue sexual relations with you, but I'm not sure whether you're going to regret it later because you always end up regretting it later." But the worst thing was that I couldn't say, "Yeah, let's not. That's a bad idea." It was this really complicated mix of coercion and actually wanting sex because I'm 17, goddamnit, and really loving a person so much that I wasn't sure what I wanted.
Every single time there was this theme of me saying, "No, I'm not sure this is what I want from this relationship." and ultimately breaking down because I wasn't actually sure what I wanted from this relationship.
The last time he tried to kiss me, I ended up forcing him away and walking off.
I Don't Want Love, The Antlers
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