The funniest thing happened. We went to spend the New Year’s Eve in the city we moved here from. We saw all of my best friends one by one, got to spend wonderful time with them, talk, sing karaoke, dance and finally even have an after party, drink wine and spend the next day together. On the dance floor, in this nightclub that we haven’t gone in years, the same dance floor we actually met for the first time with Wonderboy, we suddenly run into Joe.
What are the odds?
After meeting him I have absolutely no desire towards him. But it was funny seeing him. It was even more fun, or weird, when we took a taxi to my friend K’s place and K and Joe ended up sleeping together. (Not fucking, but cuddling – or so I’m told.) K didn’t know this was the guy I’d mentioned and she was pretty alarmed the next day, when I voiced my surprise that she’d take that guy into her bed. She said that if she’d known he had used prostitutes help, she wouldn’t have. But, you know, I thought it was a good lesson. You can never know where the other one has been, and I guess you should also judge people by what they do and how they act and not so much for their past behaviour.
Anyway. I curled up into a nook with Wonderboy and remember distinctly the last thing I said to be I love you before I fell asleep on K’s living room floor (on a mattress). I have never ever had as much fun as I did this New Year’s Eve. And you know why? Because Wonderboy didn’t drink, except for a couple of non-alcoholic beers, but took benzodiazepine. His doctor prescribed him benzoes for his panic attacks, which have pretty much stopped him from going out of the house, having fun and even having friends. We laid out the plan for the evening beforehand, and I asked that he keep me aware, how much he’s taken at any given time. I didn’t want any surprises and wanted to be alert, if something didn’t go well. He split the pills into 1/4’s and 1/2’s and survived the whole night with only two.
It’s almost impossible to explain, how relieved I was. It’s even harder to understand that I never recognized and handled this huge burden I’ve been carrying all these years. Carrying Wonderboy. Here are things that I was happy about, which might give you an idea what it’s been like to be, live and love Wonderboy until now.
He talked with my friends. He took part in the conversation, he even laughed and made people laugh. I saw him have individual conversations with people, without me. He was funny and himself. His voice was normal, relaxed as he talked – and even once apologetically talked over me! He didn’t cling onto me, didn’t grip my hand under the table or look at me with those panicked eyes. He was up with all the plans we made, all the places we visited. He made decisions about what he wanted to eat and drink, when to go to the bathroom or where to go next by himself. He interacted with bartenders and doormen, people in the bar. He danced with me and my friends, and when Joe came, he even hugged him! He told me he went to say hi to one of his workmates he saw while I was in the bathroom. He took initiave to order drinks, asked me what I wanted and communicated about all of it with ease. He wasn’t devastated that our last bus had gone and came willingly to K even though he was only drinking lingonberry juice while we drank red wine. He wasn’t shocked that we had to sleep on the living room floor and he slept effortlessly even though we weren’t home.
After a couple of hours with him on benzoes and some champagne flutes for me I felt so much in love with him. I felt so connected. I remember thinking this is the man I fell in love with. I guess I was also the woman he fell in love with, because I was beaming. I didn’t think about babies once the whole night. Nothing obscured my happiness, my fun, my enthusiasm. I needed it. I needed to feel loved, wanted, cherised. I needed for him to be my wonderful lover, not just my depressed husband. And he did. He is such a lovable, funny, thoughtful, beautiful and sexy man. I just kept looking at him, telling him how pretty he is and he answered with the same enthusiasm about me. I could feel, how liberated he felt after more than 10 years of trying to fight the panic attacks, trying and failing. And now he could do all the things he dreamt of doing – with ease. Thanks to a drug.
I hadn’t realized, how much I always carry him. I hadn’t realized, how he takes his anxiety out on me, lashes out because of the fear and the stress of not being able to do what other people can. What everyone should. Even taking a bus to the other city would’ve bee too intensely scary for him without the drug. I’ve told K and my other friends about his disorder. Numerous times I’ve had to retold the story: Okay, well if it’s a big party, then only I will come. Yeah, that’s a fun idea, but you do realize that WB will not come? They never seem to get it. I barely get it myself, but I see I’ve adjusted. I don’t expect Wonderboy to be able to go to the store every day. I don’t expect him to be able to ask beforehand about his vacation times, his commute, anything we need to know. I’ve been carrying a huge burden. The burden to be the only one in his life.
It made me happy to be free. I was independent, and that meant that I could choose to come to him, talk with him, touch him, kiss him and breath him in. Because it wasn’t mandatory. I didn’t have to worry about him all the time. I didn’t have to facilitate his every conversation and he didn’t spoil my fun by nagging about wanting to go home the whole time.
I realized last week that when I got angry at Wonderboy, as I’ve let on here, I got very quickly very succesful at setting my limits. I also got good at expressing my desire. When Wonderboy went down on me yesterday, I had the moment of wanting something so bad wrong wrong, hesitated and then asked him to say it to me. Say that I’m a filthy whore for liking this. I guides his hands and gave instructiong to really torture my nipples like nobody’s business. And I amazingly squirted his whole face and the bed into a wet mess. I guess it’s good for me to become irritated then, isn’t it?
When he asked me to play with him later on, but wasn’t sure, if he could carry it out – the same reason why we didn’t fuck earlier – and started to get real pissy, because it wasn’t working, I just left to the bathroom. When I came back I expressed my feelings on how he’d behaved. Not only had he hustled me away from his cock, which he’d asked me to lick, but he’d done it very rudely. He went on complaining and being an asshat taking me into no consideration at all. I told him that it’s not okay for him to bash me in a situation like that. That he needs to hold his shit together and tell me nicely that he liked it, but it isn’t working out. Boom – he started crying and apologizing. I also made sure to tell him that I understand, how disappointed he feels for not having an orgasm and also that I love him no matter what happened. We cuddled, tried to go to sleep, but he would just lie there awake.
Finally I asked him, if he needed to try to take care of business himself and he asked immediately, if I would feel bad about it. I understand that he would feel ambivalent over masturbation, because of what happened last time, but does he really not see the difference?
I just want you to be happy and fulfilled, I said. When he still seemed uncertain, I kissed him and whispered into his ear, how he should think about nice suffocatings. He smiled and hopped off to play with himself. I asked a permission to play too, because he’d denied it after he licked me. He gave me permission and I came thinking about what he was doing. He came back to bed after 45 minutes or so very happy, giddy and kissed and hugged me in an almost childlike manner before going to sleep.
I’m beginning to see, why everything’s been so hard on me as of late. Now that I’m moving on to bigger guns on the fertility proceedings – since nothing’s still happened – I think my mind’s set. He will go to therapy. I will do as I like, when I like and he will just have to manage. I will not be his mom and I certainly will take no shit from him ever again. Because now I realize I have an option. Just let him be. Wow. How could I never see it before?
Happy New Year to everyone and hope you tackle your problems in ways of furious dancing and drinking champagne too!