Bi-Sexual Female / 21
[[I would like it known ahead of time that I am in no way proud of this. I just have nowhere else to talk about this. Also, for storytelling's sake, I'll call the main guy in the story "M", and my current boyfriend "S".]]
In the summer of 2012, I was single for the first time in a long time, and it didn't take long for me to fall for M.
We had met online, and after a few weeks of chatting, we decided to meet up at a local club that he DJ'd at. It turns out, there was a mutual attraction between us, and we decided that even though we was moving across the state in two weeks, we would see where this could go, knowing that nothing serious would come of it.
Over those next two weeks, we went on some casual dates, slept together a few times, and before long, I became completely smitten.
Unfortunately, the time came when M had to leave. He was spinning at a show, and I wanted to say goodbye. [I should point out that this was not my best idea. I was really sick (I could barely swallow water, I was in so muc pain), and I hadn't actually figured out how I would be getting home, as I had almost no money and the buses didn't run that late.]
I ended up finding a ride with a friend, S (whom I met through M, of course), and we ended up stopping off at a restaurant on the way to his place so he could sober up. I ended up crying into my food explaining the situation to him, and he helped me through it.
I ended up crashing at his place for the night, and while to this day I have no idea how it happened, we ended up sleeping together. Of course, given my condition at the time, I ended up bedridden, in his bed, for the next three days. (Boy, that was interesting to explain to my mother and sister, whom I lived with at the time.) At the end of the last day, we decided to become a couple.
...
Fast forward a year and a half to now. S and I are still together, living together, even, and we both are still friends with M. Unfortunately, I've been struggling with my feelings for S, because even though (I think) I still love him, I've been getting more and more frustrated with our relationship, as since he's lost his job, and I've lost mine, all he's done is drink, yell, go on Facebook, and pass out. We don't really talk anymore, and our sex life is almost nothing. (I haven't actually received any pleasure from anyone but myself in about 6 months.)
Then last weekend came along.
Somehow, we managed to scrounge up enough money to be able to make a certain beloved Sci-Fi convention, and the main contributing factor of this was the fact that M let us room with him. Well, S ended up being his usual drunken self, not meeting up when he said he would, not picking up his phone, leaving me completely alone in a group of possibly thousands, which, given my severe social anxiety (which he knows about), caused me cause me to have multiple panic attacks all weekend.
... I don't know if it was mainly caused by my frustrations with S or what, but from the second I saw M that Friday, I was basically in a constant state of arousal for the entire weekend. Which, after he got changed into his kilt on Saturday, got to the point where it was physically painful.
There were multiple times over the weekend that I just wished he would just shove me against a wall and have his way with me, whether S was there or not.
Even now, as I type this, I have to keep reminding myself that it never would have worked out. As much as he turns me on, as nice and kind and sweet and funny as he is, as much as he is one of the greatest men I've ever met, we're just too different.
I also know that despite my frustrations, as much as I know my current relationship is really unhealthy, it would kill S if I left, and I can't handle hurting anyone like that again.
Truth be told, I almost wish S had been as big of an ass to me last weekend as he had the year before. I wish I could have had a reason to leave. I wish I wouldn't have to completely abandon the ONE THING I'm good at if we broke up. I wish I didn't feel this way.
He still means so much to me, but I'm just so unhappy ALL THE TIME. I don't want to hurt him, but I'm not sure how much more I can take.
In the summer of 2012, I was single for the first time in a long time, and it didn't take long for me to fall for M.
We had met online, and after a few weeks of chatting, we decided to meet up at a local club that he DJ'd at. It turns out, there was a mutual attraction between us, and we decided that even though we was moving across the state in two weeks, we would see where this could go, knowing that nothing serious would come of it.
Over those next two weeks, we went on some casual dates, slept together a few times, and before long, I became completely smitten.
Unfortunately, the time came when M had to leave. He was spinning at a show, and I wanted to say goodbye. [I should point out that this was not my best idea. I was really sick (I could barely swallow water, I was in so muc pain), and I hadn't actually figured out how I would be getting home, as I had almost no money and the buses didn't run that late.]
I ended up finding a ride with a friend, S (whom I met through M, of course), and we ended up stopping off at a restaurant on the way to his place so he could sober up. I ended up crying into my food explaining the situation to him, and he helped me through it.
I ended up crashing at his place for the night, and while to this day I have no idea how it happened, we ended up sleeping together. Of course, given my condition at the time, I ended up bedridden, in his bed, for the next three days. (Boy, that was interesting to explain to my mother and sister, whom I lived with at the time.) At the end of the last day, we decided to become a couple.
...
Fast forward a year and a half to now. S and I are still together, living together, even, and we both are still friends with M. Unfortunately, I've been struggling with my feelings for S, because even though (I think) I still love him, I've been getting more and more frustrated with our relationship, as since he's lost his job, and I've lost mine, all he's done is drink, yell, go on Facebook, and pass out. We don't really talk anymore, and our sex life is almost nothing. (I haven't actually received any pleasure from anyone but myself in about 6 months.)
Then last weekend came along.
Somehow, we managed to scrounge up enough money to be able to make a certain beloved Sci-Fi convention, and the main contributing factor of this was the fact that M let us room with him. Well, S ended up being his usual drunken self, not meeting up when he said he would, not picking up his phone, leaving me completely alone in a group of possibly thousands, which, given my severe social anxiety (which he knows about), caused me cause me to have multiple panic attacks all weekend.
... I don't know if it was mainly caused by my frustrations with S or what, but from the second I saw M that Friday, I was basically in a constant state of arousal for the entire weekend. Which, after he got changed into his kilt on Saturday, got to the point where it was physically painful.
There were multiple times over the weekend that I just wished he would just shove me against a wall and have his way with me, whether S was there or not.
Even now, as I type this, I have to keep reminding myself that it never would have worked out. As much as he turns me on, as nice and kind and sweet and funny as he is, as much as he is one of the greatest men I've ever met, we're just too different.
I also know that despite my frustrations, as much as I know my current relationship is really unhealthy, it would kill S if I left, and I can't handle hurting anyone like that again.
Truth be told, I almost wish S had been as big of an ass to me last weekend as he had the year before. I wish I could have had a reason to leave. I wish I wouldn't have to completely abandon the ONE THING I'm good at if we broke up. I wish I didn't feel this way.
He still means so much to me, but I'm just so unhappy ALL THE TIME. I don't want to hurt him, but I'm not sure how much more I can take.
