Guess I wasn’t ready to remove the protective case

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

It was the summer of 2014, and moments before this we'd been chatting about some reservations I'd had about a new relationship due to trauma from a past one. K's clever response to the change of subject was so accurate it stung. Maybe it was too soon.

IT'S BEEN OVER A YEAR. WHEN THE FUCK WILL IT FEEL SAFE TO FEEL FEELINGS AGAIN?

Will it ever?

I want to learn from my mistakes, but I don't want this period of my life to define me forever. I don't want to let that person continue to destroy my life long after he's been pushed out of it. I don't want to think of myself as a victim or a survivor. I just want it to be a distant memory. But, obviously, it isn't that distant. It's still there, bubbling under the surface, just waiting for something to trigger it. Or is it actually looking for something to trigger it?

Feelings

He was supposed to be just another conquest. Well, maybe more than that. A new friend. With Benefits. I didn't expect to feel things. But I did. Right away. And it scared me a little, but mostly it felt good. So. Fucking. Good. I'm not referring to the sex, although that was nice. The real pleasure was the overwhelming affection I felt when I looked into his eyes. Let me repeat that with the appropriate emphasis:

The real pleasure was the overwhelming affection I felt when I looked into his eyes. 

If you've been paying attention, you know that looking into someone's eyes is extremely difficult for me. It's a vulnerable act that I thought would only feel safe after I'd been seeing someone for a long time and had built up to a very high level of trust. But it had happened right away. It had happened the very first time we'd had sex. Most of that night was a blur: The drunken makeouts. Inviting him back to my tent. The awkward undressing in a cramped space. The eagerness to feel him inside of me. Naked, sweaty bodies entwined and moving together. It was all going according to plan. But then, it happened. I opened my eyes, and his were there, staring back at me. And it didn't scare me. It didn't make me feel vulnerable. It excited me. It impassioned me. It made the entire act feel much less superficial than anything I'd felt in far too long.

I tried not to read too much into it, but every time I closed my eyes I pictured him on top of me, looking into my eyes. I tried to focus on other flirtations, but it was mostly just a distraction from him. Not that I thought he would mind spending more time together. It felt like we were on the same page, but I was nervous about jumping in too deep, too quickly. It had been a long time since I'd felt this spark of excitement over a new lover, and it made me nervous. It made me feel out of control. I feared that the hearts in my eyes would prevent me from seeing the warning signs of another troubled relationship. Of course, I had no reason to believe that this would go sour, but, then again, I didn't think that about the last guy, either. I was - am - determined not to let history repeat itself.

It wasn't long, however, before I started to see red flags. A drunken miscommunication brought back memories of being constantly mistrusted and called a liar, and sent me out to a lonely street corner, crying and doubting myself while others partied inside. Another night, a surprisingly negative reaction to a change in plans reminded me of the grief my inflexible ex had given me any time I complained of being too sick or tired (conditions I would later realize were symptoms of my deep state of depression) to go out. The flashback made me nauseous and shaky. I spent most of the rest of that night in silence, blinking back tears, because I didn't want the new guy to think I was overreacting. 

The relationship didn't even last a month. Each time we saw each other, I identified more red flags. I still don't know if these were true warning signs or just my frightened psyche looking for reasons to get out. It probably doesn't matter. Either he wasn't good for me, or I wasn't ready for him. I'm glad I got out early, before it did any real damage to either of us.

So, what now? It's been 6 months since that relationship, and I haven't felt anything even close to that spark. I've gone on plenty of dates. I've made some great new friends. I've had lots of great sex. But there's always this emotional distance. Actually, I'd describe it more as emotional dullness. The feelings of affection are there, they're just markedly muted. As frightened as I am at the possibility of creating an intense, potentially volatile connection, I miss the spark. I miss looking into someone's eyes and feeling a rush of affection. I miss eagerly checking my calendar to figure out when I can see him again. I miss lovey dovey texts to say we're thinking of each other. I miss all of that gooey new relationship energy that makes everyone around us roll their eyes and say, "get a room."

Sometimes I feel like I'm broken. Like, maybe somewhere between the bad relationships, depression, and medication, I've lost the ability to make a real connection with another person. And I don't know if I can be fixed. On bad days, I am certain it can't, and if I think about it too much I end up in tears. On good days, I am hopeful, but still not necessarily optimistic. The rest of the time, I just try not to think about it. I try to enjoy my friendships and relationships for what they are, and not wish they were something more. It doesn't always work, but I figure that with time it'll come much easier.

Won't it?