I wanted my bedroom back. I wanted back control over my space, for which I paid the total mortgage. I did not want a roommate, I wanted a lover who would take care of me instead of making my life his convenient place to live. I did not want to give up my best friend; I did not want to lose his help in his wandering eye and yearning dick; I did not want to give up my helpmate and weekly Sunday companion.
Yet I lost it all in my quest, in my determination to not settle for the best, for an all-in-one. I have been dating some nice men; some make it to my bed, others not; some for multiple times, others only once. I wish and want and hope and pray that I either learn to live with my loneliness, or someone fills the cracks that my former best friend left. The sense of betrayal continues at times to be immense. I dont miss being his lover, since I hadn't been for years, anyway. I miss his homecomings and I miss coming home to someone. And I miss having help with tasks like hauling compost to mulch my garden beds. Suddenly all friends who said they would help have sick grammies or the flu or are too busy working. They can invite me to their space to make the long drive, but if I cannot or do not feel like driving an hour to get there, I don't see them.
People are so difficult. This PD makes relationships all the more difficult. Not only is my face and body misread, but I seem cold, stiff, and indifferent. Few really know me as I am. Does this sound like excuses? I am so damn lonely and I did this to myself. I want the last ten years of my life back. I certainly want the last four years back! Would I have had DBS surgery? Would I have discovered an underground vein of hate that would emerge with a rising sense of panic, betrayal, and just plain anger?
Would I wish for a sense of stability knowing what I know now? yes, i do believe so.
