DAY 12

I’m crushing this year’s new goals already. I have worn my hair curly for 4 days in a row, having grabbed some free samps from Sephora. It is a MESS. I have gotten compliments on it but it’s like.. No guys. Stop. It’s not good. I also refuse to wear it down until I find products that work. I don’t think people really know what good curly hair is supposed to look like cause we are all frying the fuck out of our hair, so dry and brittle is normal to some people. My hair at the moment is not good. It’s not going to be good for a few months I imagine. Some curls come down and then stop and curl the other way, and some start going straight, then curl again at the bottom. There are fuckety pieces of dry broken and cracked ends that are frightening. They are especially more noticeable now that I am letting my hair be curly than they were when I singed them to bone straightness.

SIGH. I know this is going to be a long process… It’s literally only been a few days, but I am really hoping that an improvement is going to be made soon. I should probably get a curly girl haircut but I also don’t want my hair to get too short. It’s already short with the curls. I have a pair of hair cutting scissors at home so when I see some bad ends, I’ll do my own snips. I am really too broke to be going for a cut right now anyway.  

New curly girl rules:

1. No more heat. That means no straightener, no curling iron, no hot blow dryer and no hot water on my hair. NONEZO.

2. Sulfate free, silicone free, alcohol free, paraben free products.

3. Potentially no more shampoo. Cleanser or double conditioner instead.

4. No more brushing. Only wide combing, and only in the shower when it’s wet.

5. Refresh using water and conditioner every non-wash day.

I also bought some boxing gloves. I definitely need to violently release some stress. I used to do kickboxing many years ago in a class but I didn’t really like sparring because I didn’t feel like I could put my full force into my punches. I was always paired with my skinny friend and even a medium force punch would throw her padded arm back past her head. But now that I have access to a punching bag again, I’m gonna go wild.

Kickboxing has special meaning to me… I once started hanging out with a guy a when I was 20 in the summer semester of my 3rd year of University in a drama class. He was gorgeous, and I was immediately attracted to him. The class was strange. We were pushed outside of our comfort zones and we were expected to have to massage a partner in the early classes, only once or twice but about 3-5 different people in a room of about 30. The teacher was new and doing some odd social experiments. I honestly didn’t hate it. Especially when the handsome guy ended up being my partner... He was a beefcake. Big shoulders, big arms, thick, muscular body. He wasn’t my typical type, actually, but what drew him the most to me was his charisma. He was the loudest, funniest guy in the class too. A good sense of humour is my biggest weakness.

By our second class, we started to develop a quick friendship that was extremely surprising to me. I wasn’t the prettiest girl in the class by a long shot, but he noticed me, and it felt like we were drawn to each other. I asked him for coffee. We exchanged numbers and I text him: “just so you know, asking you for coffee was me asking you out, in case that wasn’t obvious.” He responds. “Oh… I didn’t realize it was a date! I have a girlfriend.” FUCK. Of course you do. I was bummed. But we agreed to be friends. I felt that I got over it pretty quick, but our friendship wasn’t exactly... Girlfriend approved.

His girlfriend was out of town for the entire summer so he didn’t see her that often. We started to study together. After my other class, I would come find him in one of the empty study rooms and spend hours in there together, talking, laughing, sharing music. We hardly actually studied. I was just a distraction. He invited me to walk dogs with him at the humane society together. And eventually, it progressed into me coming over while he would do homework all night and I’d sit on his couch and play horror video games. We did this nearly EVERY DAMN DAY. We couldn’t really get enough of each other. We connected on a deep, intellectual level too. We would have these long talks about science, society, everything, and he acted like this made me different from other girls my age.

He showed me some of the best music I’ve ever heard, and still to this day, I keep some of his songs on my playlists. He was also super into MMA before then, but he had to quit so he could focus on school. He showed me his fight walk out song, if he were to ever fight again. It was so cool: “You think I ain’t worth a dollar, but I feel like a millionaire” by Queens of the Stone Age. When he showed me this song, I felt like I wanted to fight someone too. It was the perfect pump up song.

Where things start to get… more than just friendship... I was hanging out at his house one night and complained about some soreness. He offers me a massage. I hesitate at first. I really want to accept it but it feels a bit intimate and I already know I really like this guy. But I accept and it’s… It’s fucking good. His hands are big and strong, and I can’t help myself. I’m way too into this massage and so is he. I refrain from moaning, but in my head I’m just melting into his hands. He doesn’t really stop after a normal amount of time.One would expect maybe 5 to 10 minutes. No.. he massages me for about 30 minutes, and it’s full bodied. He’s massaging my legs, my arms, my feet. I am hot. I really don’t want him to stop, but I tell him that it’s enough. He goes to sit down, but now I feel bad. I am such a Libra sometimes and it feels like I need to be fair, so I offer him a massage. He gladly accepts.

This massage goes on for a half an hour as well, and he is moaning. It’s… a lot. It’s clear to me that what’s happening in this moment is now crossing a line from something platonic to something more physical. He decides to keep using his hands on me too. We end up laying side by side just massaging each other’s bodies for… hours.

The sexual tension is... Explosive. Like… To this day, that massage session is THE most erotic experience of my life. Everything about his face read that this dude wanted to pick me up and hurl me onto his bed. But we stay still on the couch, hands on legs on backs on arms on shoulders on ass... When we finally stop, it was like we had just woken up from a hallucinogenic dream. Everything was blurry and colourful, and I forgot where I was. I go home.

The next day is different though. He feels very bad. He’s never cheated on anyone before, but he feels like what happened between us would not have been okay with his girlfriend. I would agree. We decide that it can’t really happen again. But... It does. Again and again.

I spent the night at this man’s house many times. We never had sex, and we never even kissed. We just touched. A lot. And very inappropriately. He would play music every night, part of his routine, but the music he played was clearly pointed. The song that stands out the most… Closer by NIN.

Because he used to fight, I would challenge him. I wanted to see if I could fight back in any way. Turns out I couldn’t. At all. A guy like him could very easily overpower me. It was disturbing to me how easy I would be to take down if someone wanted to hurt me. He tried to show me some moves, but I never tried to hurt him very hard. I never wanted to hurt him. Turns out, he didn’t reciprocate that feeling for me.

We got into a fight. I don’t remember why exactly anymore, but it definitely had something to do with my insecurities, and him not having any empathy towards them. Like, all the things we'd been doing up until that point wasn't supposed to lead to me falling for him, and he was resenting the feelings I was developing. It blew up. I was not okay. I was growing more and more attached to him as the days went on and we’d spend inappropriate amounts of time together. I felt so sick over this fight that I crawled out of my bedroom window at 2 in the morning one night with an umbrella and walked to his apartment. It felt like a scene out of a movie. I thought I was crazy, but everything inside of me was screaming that I had to do this. 

I stood in the entryway of his apartment for 35 minutes, shaking. I couldn’t ring. I was scared. But I finally mustered up the courage. I walked all this way. If it falls apart, at least I know I tried. I couldn’t imagine what would happen but I was willing to risk it all falling apart to fight for this guy. 

He was still awake like he usually was. He answers, surprised, and asks me to come up.

It was... weird. He acted like we had never been in a fight. He was sweet and pulled me in for a hug. I told him I was really hurt by this fight, and we made up almost immediately. We just sit and talk and then I spend the night in this bed, again. I was SUCH a sucker. I was truly crazy over this guy, like heartsick in love with him. I felt like what I was doing was so romantic. I thought that this would show him how much I wanted this with him and he would finally fully let me in, not just to his bed, but maybe a little into his heart too.

The next day was one of our classes, and we couldn’t stop smiling at each other. We had such a sexy secret, and I felt like everyone in the class could tell there was something going on with us, even though many of them knew he had a girlfriend. People could just sense it.

Honestly, I never really saw his girlfriend, so she didn’t feel real to me. He had maybe one picture of her in his apartment, and I avoided looking at it. She was tall, with long black straight hair. She looked like a model. She was much prettier than I am. How could he cheat on a woman like her with a girl me? I was short, average body, basic.

He hardly ever spoke about her. In the month and a half we spent together, he had only seen her for two weekends. During those weekends, he wouldn’t text me until she left. But during the school week, it was always me, day in and day out.

The class was ending, and he was going to go back home to her for the last two months of summer. I didn’t think what we had would end, just be temporarily on hold. I still thought we would text and try to figure out this mess we had gotten ourselves into.

I’d text him a little here and there, but he was short with me. He was too busy. He replied very delayed, until finally he ghosted me. Two weeks goes by, and nothing. I was extremely broken over it. He was like a drug to me. I was addicted to him. And now he was just gone. Like none of it ever meant anything to him.

I email him a long message about my feelings. He ignores it. I realized I was the girlfriend away from the girlfriend. Once he had her back, I wasn’t needed anymore. I was just being used. I felt so stupid.

Perhaps you might say it’s karma. And I understand how shitty it was for me to do what I did. I may have been 20, but I should have known better. I wanted to believe that the chemistry that was exploding between us wasn’t just lust, but a sign that we were meant to be. I had watched enough movies of men stealing women from other men, and it was always portrayed to be incredibly romantic. But it wasn’t romantic. It was fucked. It was gross. It was cruel. If I was in love with someone, and he cheated on me, it would be earth shattering. And here I was, trying to do that to someone else. I wasn’t thinking about her feelings, just mine. I hated myself for it.

I made some serious realizations that summer. This guy never went out of his way for me. Ever. Not once. Every time we hung out, it was on his terms. His study room, his volunteering, his apartment, his bed. It was ALWAYS about him, and if I wanted to be a part of his life, I was the one going out of the way. The one time I managed to get him to come find me in one of my computer labs, he stayed for 2 minutes before he left, even though I begged him to stay and keep me company. Even though he had the whole day to himself. He didn’t want to be in my world.

The rest of the summer was transformative for me. I ended up taking a class that was like therapy. It was literally on the psychology of addiction. The professor was my friend’s dad. The assignments were always like essays about how you related to the chapters in the books he shared with us. Each chapter was about an archetypal character. I related the most to the mad woman.

I felt safe telling him some of the things I did in my assignments. I admitted to everything I’d done up until that point, particularly with the MMA guy.  I told him about the cheating and how in love I was with people who didn’t want me, and I didn’t understand why it keeps happening to me. That class changed everything. I watched this reality show called The Mistress as well, which so poignant about why women become mistresses, and how the fuck do we stop. I was prone to this kind of behaviour at this point, of wanting people that were unavailable. I promised myself that if it ever happened again, I would stop myself. I would pinch myself and remember what happened with MMA guy.  

Music saved my life that summer too. There are still songs that I listen to that remind me of that time, but in a positive, self-reflective way. One song that still MURDERS me to listen to because it’s so fucking spot on as to how I felt was Candles by Daughter. It’s like the song was written about me and him.

Boy take me away into the night
Out of the hum of the street lights and into a forest
I'll do whatever you say to me in the dark
Scared I'll be torn apart by a wolf in mask
Of a familiar name on a birthday card

Blow out all the candles
Blow out all the candles
"You're too old to be so shy"
He says to me so I stay the night
Just a young heart confusing my mind
But we're both in silence
Wide-eyed, both in silence
Wide-eyed, like we're in a crime scene

Well, I have brittle bones it seems
I bite my tongue and I torch my dreams
Have a little voice to speak with
And a mind of thoughts and secrets
Things cannot be reversed
We learn from the times that we are cursed
Things cannot be reversed
Learn from the ones we fear the worst
And learn from the ones we hate the most

'Cause we both know
I'll never be your lover
I only bring the heat
Company under cover
Filling space in your sheets
In your sheets

The song is just haunting. I adore it. But it’s hard to listen to it too much because it takes me back to those emotions of realizing I was in love with someone who was a wolf in a mask.

Getting back to the point I was trying to eventually get to... Kickboxing.  

A couple of days a week, I’d go to the gym, call out the bag, and go to fucking town. It was a new form of therapy. I’d throw on some bad ass music and show myself how fucking strong I could be.

He came back from summer vacation for his final semester in school. I had already started my routine long enough to be pretty fucking killer at it. One very lucky day, he walked past me and the bag. We made eye contact. Then I rip like a beast into the bag. I wanted to show him who I’ve become since he’d abandoned me. I felt like the Hulk. And I was punching to HIS song. His walk out song is blasting in my ears. I felt like a queen.

I have since let go of that hobby. But I always knew I wanted to do it again because of how good it felt. There’s something very primal about it. I’ve never once been in a fight, and I’m not at all a violent person, but I’d still like to think I could hold my own if I ever got into a situation where I’d need to fight someone. I hope it NEVER happens, but you never know.

As for the guy…

I became friends with a girl who was also in that class a year later. It turns out that even though I was the first girl he cheated on his girlfriend with, I wasn’t the last. She had hooked up with him too, all the while he was still dating the same girlfriend. He had fucked her up too. I was sick over this. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was special. Like our connection was irreplicable. But I was just the stepping stone into more cheating. It horrifies me to this day to think that connections you make with someone can be that fucking cheap.

He eventually messaged me. Two whole years later. On LinkedIn of all places. Classic ZOMBIE. I actually found the message! Here it is...

“Hey,

I wanted to say sorry. I'm sorry for how I treated you and I'm sorry for how I acted. You never deserved that. The fact is that how I treated you still haunts me. You never ever deserved that and I'm sorry.

That's all I wanted to say.

Hope you are doing well,

[NAME OMITTED]

PS congratulations on graduating. If you ever need resume help please let me know.”

I’m too embarrassed to re-read what I wrote back. But I sent him the Daughter song. I don’t know if he ever listened to it, but I think it’s meaning is still so powerful for me. If he listened, I think it would have made him really see how I felt. I don’t know if he could really handle my feelings though. His apology felt like it was more about him than it was about me. It was like he just wanted to shed the guilt he was feeling instead of actually hearing what I might have to say. He doesn't ask about me, he just states his apology and hopes I will move on. He can’t even bring himself to acknowledge the thing that happened. He uses the word “that” to describe all of the things that happened between us.

It's reads to me like: “SORRY, BYE.” Sorry for what? Sorry for cheating on your girlfriend with me? Sorry for inviting me into your bed on multiple occasions? Sorry for getting pissy with me for getting attached to you? Sorry for never being a real friend to me? Sorry for using me? Sorry for abandoning and forgetting about me? Sorry for leaving me hanging for 2 years? What is this dude actually sorry for?

It's a weak apology. I can at least admit to the real things I did without using vague terminology. It's almost like.. He knew he wronged me, but he forgot how and what specific things he did to wrong me. And to wrong his girlfriend.

Here’s what I’m sorry for...

I’m sorry for what I did to his girlfriend. I’m sorry for not seeing her as a real person. She never deserved what we did to her. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I'm sorry for getting so close to someone who I knew wasn't available. I'm sorry for not getting out sooner.

His apology was 5 years ago, hence the "graduated" comment. We haven't talked since. I don't know if he's grown or not since then. I don't care. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I've grown from it. I'm thankful that it all happened. I like the person it's shaped me into now.

I’m going to choose my own fight walk song. I have a solid dirty little playlist made, but I’m not sure which song I’m drawn to the most. For now, in the moment. I’m going to go with this little number.

No messing with me now, bois.