Don’t choose the better man… choose the man who makes you a better girl

Posted on January 19, 2013


Don’t choose the better man. Choose the man who makes you a better girl.

I am trying to repair some old wounds, and I think instead of waiting for them to heal I’ve just been plastering over them with a fresh dressing.

At times I feel like the wounds are healing. They’re itching. I feel like I can pick at them, and it won’t open it back up. FYI I am speaking metaphorically, just in case i’m being confusing! Basically there is a glimmer of light at the end of the long dark tunnel, only i’m not sure of the fastest way to get there. Or maybe it’s a long game. Patience might be my only friend.

I’m also on day four of being bed bound since reconstructive knee surgery.

It can play havoc with your emotions.

Am trying to wean myself off the painkillers because they’re making me feel really lonely. One minute i’ll be fine. Normal, even. Then these deep intense waves of loneliness will come and i’ll feel ridiculously alone.

The worst thing about all of this, is that a week ago I invited the love of my life back into my life and even up until yesterday everything had been fine, bar my own overwhelming fear on Wednesday which i’ll call ‘BLIP DAY’ and you can read about HERE – but now I feel like my fears have been realised.

Loving someone with Aspergers is possibly the hardest thing i’ve ever done. The way I feel about him challenges me on my own insecurities, fears and beliefs about what loving someone means in a way I could never have imagined i’d be tested. And I do think that is a good thing. I’ve come through to the place i’m at now, more aware of how I project my neediness on those I love. It’s forcing me to think a bit more about the consequences of my actions, and ultimately I think be a better person.

But this is where it can be challenging.

In my world – and probably to all of my potential three readers your world too – when you love someone, and they love you back, and you’ve been dancing round each other for years and finally talking on a level about your feelings for each other, you’d expect them to come and see you when they say they will. When you’ve agreed to. Especially when you’re laid up in bed, recovering from an operation. It’s bad enough that you’re in pain, the medication typically fucks with your head, and the boredom can mean you spend too much time thinking. Everyone knows you visit the people you love when they’re vulnerable.

But we made plans, and all I can think is that he’s freaked out or something and bottled it.

He said he’d not experienced kissing like last Friday in a really really long time. That it was really special, and really meant something. I said – a bit hesitant at first – that if it could feel that good now, imagine how it could feel, like, after a while. We agreed we were totally on the same page about everything we were feeling, that we couldn’t stop thinking about each other.

I told him how i’d been in a permanent state of arousal since Friday night, that the surgeons must have thought I was turned on by the pain – there were no hiding my nipples in that thin hospital gown.

I reluctantly admitted that I might not be able to have sex because of my leg brace, and he teased me that i’ve waited this long (i’d confessed Friday night i’d not kissed anyone else since him back in May) that another 6 weeks wouldn’t hurt.

So there were lots of nice little bits of banter and excitement for the weekend throughout the week. How has it come to Saturday late afternoon and i’m sat here chatting to wordpress?

Friday morning we shared some texts. I’d missed the ones he send the night before checking in on me. I said how I had seriously considered the logistics of sex with my swollen, rigid, sore leg, but come to the conclusion that I might need more ‘looking after, than seeing to’. He replied saying ‘Aww I can look after you.’ I made a joke about something and he replied ‘Haha you’re such a loser. Miss you.’

Everything seemed to be going so well. I actually thought maybe this time we might be able to resume some sort of normality, you know, arranging to meet up, and actually doing it.

I texted back with ‘Let me know what time to expect you (my mum’s here so i’ll have to send her home at some point). I’ll text you my address later’.

He replied:

‘Cool, I have to visit some flats this evening and tomorrow. If I don’t make it over today i’ll come tomorrow? X’

Then straight after said:

‘Say hi to your mum for me šŸ˜‰ ‘

And that’s pretty much where the conversation about meeting up this weekend has ended. We chatted yesterday afternoon on skype briefly but never made any plans or talked about meeting up, it was just banter. I had told him to call me last night, but to not have heard from him wouldn’t have been a massive surprise. I suppose I thought i’d have heard from him today but haven’t.

And this is what always happens. Not always as soon as this, there have been some moments over the years where we’ve sustained seeing each other a bit longer. But it always ends up with him disappearing on me.

According to him, he freaks out. I never really understand why he freaks out other than that he said the whole thing just suddenly feels hugely overwhelming and he feels loads of pressure about it all. He worries he isn’t going to make me happy. That he’ll let me down. That his other head spaces get in the way and stop him contacting me. That to contact me, would be too hard. Too hurtful.

So there’s nothing I can do. In the past – and bearing in mind this has been going on for nearly 6 years – I would lash out. I’d cry. Get upset. Throw a tantrum. Call him every name under the sun.

I know my behaviour in the past hasn’t been great, but I didn’t understand what any of it meant except to feel like i’d been played, and I’d always feel like an epic fool for having gotten involved, for believing he felt the way he did. I never really understood the impact Aspergers has on the way he treats me – nor do I now really.

I could never accept or even go down the line of enquiry that maybe, just maybe, its because he loves me so much that he always fucks it up.

A friend of mine who works in mental health was doing some background reading on Aspergers in relation to a client and said she’d come across situations like this before.

I just don’t know.

I don’t wanna be a moany bitch, but the world is cruel and unfair. I found out last night my best mate’s mum is terminally ill. Third time she’s got cancer now, and its left her with 6-12 months. My friend, Vicky, who I love so so much and have known for 18 years, is obviously in despair. She’ll have to take on parental responsibility of her little brother (14) Ā and sister (13), which would be a shock to any person, let alone a 33 year old who already has a 14 year old boy going through the beginnings of adolescence, and an 8 year old girl with cerebral palsy and is severely disabled.

I also found out last night – talk about double whammy – that a friend of mine’s ex girlfriend has cervical cancer, with a diagnosis of 6 months to live.

There’s so much pain going on in the world, you can’t avoid it.

There is no natural conclusion to this Saturday arvo ramble.

It just is, what it is. Am just trying to stay positive, and strong.


Posted in: Journal, Journeys, Random