Unringing the Bell

I don't want a relationship. I don't want someone moving into my house, taking over the remote and my life. I don't want to do someone else's laundry. I can only make cereal for dinner some nights. I want my life to remain separate from someone else.

You can't unring a bell that's been rung. I stayed away from all forms of human relationships for years, and hid away my sexuality under solid concrete. Occasional forays into masturbation were vanilla and uninspiring, mostly for physical release. I needed to stay away from people, lest I be crushed under the weight of their expectations.

Then things with her became different.

We shape-shift the contacts we have with each other, sometimes for necessary reasons. We are different things to each other at different times. Not long ago we became fuckbuddies.

Fuckbuddy is a crude but accurate word. It means, in this part of the world, someone to have sex with as opposed to masturbating in the shower. We have been on the same page, in spite of my flip-out about her wanting to pursue him. I think she believes I flipped out about that part, but I didn't. I flipped out because I thought she took my choice from me. She was honest, and I didn't believe she was completely honest, and said really stupid things. I want those words back. You can't unring a bell that's been rung.


I'm not the same person as the last time we danced, which is why this feels so much healthier. We've been honest about this thing, exploring sexual needs. That's all the good part. That's not the demon. The demon is what's been planted in me, causing an existential catastrophe. You can't unring a bell that's been rung, and it's making me crazy.

There's been no place to put these things that tumble out of my imagination. Fantasies, specific ideas of what I want to do to please her, and what I'd like to have for myself. I can't lock them away, and I don't have the courage to ask her to open the door again. They have no place to go.

Which brings me further into the existential catastrophe. I'm faced with asking, vulnerable, for that door to be opened again and face it closing, or asking someone else to open that door. That involves two things: I don't trust anyone else with this; besides, she knows me. It also means feeling dishonest with someone else because of what this need is. This isn't a need for a relationship, this is a need for exploring sex.

I feel stuck in that I can't take those ideas to someone else without risking hurting them, which I cannot do, or putting up with the pain of sucking it up in the hope that my sexuality gets sealed up again. I'm out of my comfort zone with this, because I don't know if I have the courage ask her to open the door again. I also don't know if there is enough cement in the world to re-seal these things in me, either. You can't unring a bell that's been rung.