An attempt against the confusion after having sex* with Mrs. X*

We remember Mrs X* being here. We had sex, wrong, we had sex*, actually sex***. The sex, the reunion, the time together, it was unbelievably good. Actually too good.

Now I have promised to give you feelings and insights about what you have been through. I wanted to understand. Me, Mrs X*, us. I would have wanted that too if you hadn’t constantly demanded more analysis and reporting of my feelings. The problem with this, however, is that I’m confused. And if there’s something I don’t like, that’s exactly what it is. Difficulties, challenges, complicated processes, it’s all no problem, I’m good at finding solutions, I’m pragmatic, fast and quite smart. But emotional confusion is pure horror to me. The harder I try to unravel, the more confused my mind becomes.

It’s also not like I “already know what’s going on,” as Hanna always says. “Deep down you know that.” It would be nice! The deeper I dig, the more unclear everything becomes. It’s like diving. Ahead are the really big, colorful, beautiful fish, but you can’t see them without a monster flashlight. To stick with the metaphor, I don’t own it. I wouldn’t even know where to get such a giant lamp. So I have no choice but to collect the facts.

We were together for two days. More precisely: 3 hours in the pub, then 6 hours with me and the night after that another 8 hours. That makes a total of 17 hours, which is quite little.

Before that we hadn’t seen each other for 9 years, so 78840 hours, which is quite a lot.

She does not live in Switzerland and does not intend to live here. She is now in New York, which is an 8-hour flight and a 6-hour time difference.

I have not missed her in these 9 years.

I don’t even miss her now, but I think it would be good if she were here.

We currently have (almost) no contact. She wanted it that way. She said it would hurt her. She didn’t write to me until three days after she left because she had a bladder infection. Before she was sure, she asked if I was really safe, which I assured her. So that she didn’t have to be afraid, I did a test for all possible STDs. That was our virtual exchange: no nudes, but chlamydia test results.

Now you ask how I find all this. How are my feelings about all this. And I tell you: I don’t know! Sometimes I think: I’ll throw it all in, buy a ticket to New York, sing cheesy love songs on her balcony, and beat up the lawyer when he shows up at her door. Because: I never feel that way with her.

Then I think that’s a good thing. If I felt this way non-stop, I’d be totally screwed. I like clear thinking. i love my life i’m not the type to get on a plane and fight for a woman either. I’m not Hollywood I’m just not.

And maybe I just like her so much because she’s not really here. Maybe my enthusiasm would diminish if it were different. I’ve only seen her for 17 hours. It’s like a three minute trailer for a three hour movie. The trailer can be great, but in the cinema you get bored to death because everything exciting was already in the trailer.

Hanna asked yesterday if I would mind if I never see Mrs. X* again and my answer was “yes”. Hanna said, “Look, there it is!” But I have It not. I woke up this morning and thought about it again. Would it really be so bad if we never saw each other again? It has been that way for the past nine years and the past nine years have been absolutely fine. I was satisfied 99% of the time. Putting 99% at risk seems very risky to me.

Now we come to Mrs. X*, the biggest unknown. I don’t know what she wants from me. Maybe she just wanted sex. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that she loves our sex. But otherwise? I don’t know how she feels. The fourth or fifth time we had sex, after she came, she said, “Fuck, I’m so stupid.” I asked what she meant by that, but she slept with me again, making the discussion less important to me. I don’t know why she thinks she’s stupid. I can’t ask her either because she doesn’t want contact.

I’m no further. In other words: I am open to your solutions, interpretations and attempts at explanations.

as long as

am

Source: Watson