Friday, October 4th, 2013

I feel like I’m on this ridiculous roller coaster trying to get over you. I have optimistic days where I see myself having a happy future without you, where I see myself finding someone as good as you, better than you even. I get so hopeful on those days, thinking I can move on and find someone new and amazing.

But then I go down a hill and my stomach flips into my throat. All I can think about is you. I feel this crippling loss, a hole in my life that I’ll never fill again. Not without you coming back.

What I need is a distraction, some guy I can excitedly text with and maybe take on a date or two. I’m still not ready to get back into serious dating, but maybe I need that push, maybe I need to put myself out there and take that scary leap into moving on.

But I refuse to join an online dating site. At least not until I’m thirty and still single. It’s so inauthentic and I still feel like I’m attractive enough to meet someone organically. But is a bar the best place for that? When I go out, I end up talking to no one new. And I used to be so good at that.

Once upon a time, when I was new-ish to the City and recently single I had very few gay friends. So I would go to bars by myself a lot of the time, telling myself that I had ten or fifteen minutes to start up a conversation with a cute guy or I’d leave and try the next bar. (The good thing in New York is that gay bars come in clusters. There’s always new hunting ground just a block away.) Inevitably I always ended up talking to someone. Maybe it was being by myself that pushed me to approach guys…Or maybe I was more approachable given that I was always by myself. No friends to confuse people and make them think I was already taken. Or I just looked lost by myself and that made other guys want to save me. I’m not really sure. All I know is that I used to be able to do this “meeting guys at bars” thing and now I’m dreadful at it. Is it one of those things that atrophies when not used? Like a broken leg set immobile in a cast for months that takes weeks upon weeks of rehab to get back to normal? How much work am I going to have to put in to get good at meeting guys again?

Maybe I’m sabotaging myself. Maybe deep down I don’t want to get over you. So it’s all a mental thing and not to do with atrophy of any sort.

Because if I’m honest with myself, it’s not the unknown that terrifies me. It’s that I will move on from you; it’s that I’ll lose that connection we once had. If I haven’t lost it already.



  1. Ah yes, the part of you that wants to move on, and the part of you that wants to hold on for dear life to what once was.. it’s a tough spot to be in, one I know very well.

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