There’s something comforting about sex with an old lover. Even more so when it’s sex with a recent lover.
In my most recent blog, I wrote about the month or so long relationship I had with Adelaide and how, despite the dreadful instability of the relationship, I found it almost impossible to walk away.
It may be a cliché to say this but there was something so very intoxicating about Adelaide. She had such a large personality and the most intense yellow golden eyes that I’d find myself staring into. She reminded me of a small, nocturnal animal. Not quite tame, one that might bite if you got too close.
I found myself recklessly falling for Adelaide. It didn’t help that sex with her was better than I had every experienced before in my life. Sex with Adelaide was a mind, body and soul experience. I couldn’t get enough of Adelaide. I was addicted to her.
I managed to break it off with Adelaide three weeks ago. I didn’t need to draw up a pros and cons list. I knew it was the right thing to do. Adelaide had come out of a three yearlong relationship at the end of last year and wasn’t ready to be committing herself to someone again. We gave it a good shot, but I couldn’t deal with the roller coaster of emotions and the uncertainty. There were days when Adelaide would be feeling really positive about the relationship, and she’d be happy and bouncy and life would feel so sweet. Then there were the days when she was feeling trapped, caged like the wild animal she is and she would be so emotionally and physically distant from me and the space inside my ribcage would ache with despair. We humans need to feel loved, wanted, needed.
I didn’t cry when I broke up with Adelaide. I delivered the speech that I had rehearsed inside my mind, I listened to the words I knew I’d hear from her, then I got into my car and sobbed. I knew I wouldn’t make it home in the state I was in, so I drove to my sister’s house, ten minutes away and I cried more there, relaying the conversation to my ever sympathetic sister.
Adelaide messaged me that evening and apologised for hurting me, for being so broken. She’d said she hoped we could remain friends, that she hoped she’d hear from me again soon. I wanted to remain close to Adelaide in whatever way possible but I knew I needed to distance myself from her first, to heal.
I didn’t text her. I refrained from looking at her instagram or facebook accounts. I did positive things for myself to help with the healing process. I was given an old cruiser bicycle a while back that needed some love, so I took it to the bike store and had it serviced and refurbished. I started riding. I rode my bicycle to work. I picked up extra hours at work. I contacted friends I’d lost contact with when I moved interstate a few years back. I started eating better and I cut back on cigarettes. I congratulated myself on how good I was feeling just two weeks after I’d broken up with Adelaide. I felt positive, I felt resilient.
Then I woke up on Saturday morning to a facebook message from Adelaide. She’d just received some terrible news. Her messages were frantic and all over the place. She was distraught. She said she knew she shouldn’t be contacting me, that I was free to ignore her messages but that she hadn’t known who else to contact.
I messaged her back immediately, offering kind words and support and letting her know she wasn’t alone. I had to work that day. I told her I finished at 6pm and I could come over to her place so she wouldn’t have to suffer alone. I felt wilfully reckless in suggesting this to her, but I knew if were her I wouldn’t want to feel alone. Adelaide messaged back saying something to the effect that I’m too good to her. I quickly messaged her stating that I didn’t want her to think that I was running back to her; that that’s not what this was about; that is was a sincere offer of friendship in a difficult time. Honestly, it felt good to be wanted, needed.
Then I messaged my good friend Amy.
‘You are too kind, Gina.’ She said. ‘Your offering her support doesn’t surprise me, but it’s not the right thing to do to yourself. She’ll sweep you up into it all over again and you don’t need that. You need to look after yourself.’
I promised Amy I wouldn’t go to Adelaide’s that evening. We both knew I was lying.
Adelaide was a terrible sight. She hadn’t slept at all the previous night and her eyelids were puffy from crying all day. She also hadn’t eaten. We lay down on her bed and I folded her into my arms. I’d worn the perfume I wore the whole time we were dating and she buried her face into my chest like a timid animal. She confessed that she had been drinking too much and ‘slutting around’ in the short time we’d been apart. I felt that familiar ache in my chest cavity. I was sad for her and her self-destructive ways and I was sad for myself. I couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Still, I comforted her and told her it would all be Ok.
A head massage to relieve her headache turned into a body massage, which inevitably led to undressing and hungrily kissing each other. I stopped Adelaide to ask her if this is what she wanted to do. I didn’t want for her to wake up the next day feeling like I was yet another mistake she’d made.
Adelaide responded, ‘It’s just sex, it doesn’t mean anything.’
I wish I could convince myself the same.
We had the intense, satisfying sex I had missed and for a short while, I felt good and connected to Adelaide again. We had sex again the next morning, and I left a smiling, happy Adelaide. I guess I had accomplished what I went to Adelaide’s to do; comfort her and make her feel happy again. But at what cost?
On the way home, I received a text from Adelaide: ‘Thank you for being so good to me.’
I wanted to reply something light so she wouldn’t guess that I was hopeful of a reconciliation of sorts. ‘Thank you for being so good to my pussy.’ I replied.
Adelaide texted me a few more times in the following days. I suggested to her that I could visit her again on Wednesday- I was having dinner at my sister’s so I’d be in the area. Adelaide said she would like that, and I spent the whole of Wednesday looking forward to seeing her again, to being in her bed.
On Wednesday evening, Adelaide messaged that she wasn’t feeling too well, that she felt like she was coming down with something and that she felt it best to have an early night.
I was gutted. I knew I’d lost Adelaide’s respect. Why would you respect a former lover who jumped when you clicked your fingers, who made herself so readily available to you? You wouldn’t.
Adelaide messaged me the following morning saying she was feeling so much better and was looking forward to the music festival she’s attending on the weekend where there will no doubt be more mistakes made. More regrets.
When I broke up with Adelaide, she had said she was planning on calling me in a day or so to break it off with me. How could you feel so removed from someone that you felt it Ok to break up with them over the phone, yet connected enough to call them when your life was falling apart and seek comfort from them?
Endlessly kind to others but neglectful when it comes to my own self preservation, I am my own worst enemy.