Dahlia B., our newest guest contributor, ventures to be as honest as she can with her experiences on love, life and relationships. All names have been changed to protect their identity.
For the longest time, I had kept my trouble-making ways to myself because it fed some of my needs and insecurities. The fact that I didn’t feel great about myself, the fact that I had let myself revolve around someone who would never reciprocate and never asked that of me in the first place and the fact that I just wanted to be ‘single’ for a small while before retreating to my very comfortable relationship.
Then one day, after a long time of not making any trouble, I spilled the beans to one of my closest friends. At this point I’ll clarify and say she’s the closest friend I have. The rest are in the inner sanctum but she’s my kindred spirit.
We were having drinks at our favourite bar by the promenade when it all just came pouring out. Kate listened quietly, her face a mask, devoid of emotion. Her only tell, being the amount of martinis she was rapidly consuming.
At the end of it, she frankly asked me if I still loved James.
Bless her heart, she started her next question with – No judgement. Heck, I judge myself, but that’s my cross to bear. How could I still love him and do the things I did or still do?
I ask myself that all the time. It’s sick, I know. At first I thought I was just venting and then I thought I was just getting it out of my system because I never casually dated before. Now, maybe I’m just insatiable. Whatever the excuse is, yes I know it’s an excuse, I still can’t explain it, but I haven’t gone down the road, where I’d be willing to wear my scarlet letter, and I don’t think I ever will.
Will I completely stop?
Only if I were married. That’s one relationship, I would really never want to fuck up. Besides, I never break a promise.
Did I make a promise to James? Kate says that it goes unsaid, with a relationship comes certain rules. Well I’m sorry, unless you make me solemnly swear to something or sign on the dotted line, unwritten rules could very well be broken. Knowing that more questions would come my way, I ended off my confession. “We don’t ask questions, remember?”
We then talked about getting our nails done after our brunch session for the following Saturday.