Addiction or True Love?

 

Many women, including myself in the past, have become addicted to men.   I found myself consuming them.  The  relationship.  I brought a lot of insecurities that I had not allowed myself to work through.  Instead of recognizing that true my true need was the seeking of  love and affirmation, I misconstrued my feelings for the beginning of a wonderful life together.  In the beginning stages of those relationships, it was hard for me and I know very difficult for our fairer sex, to  see through blurred vision, to decipher clarity from opaque thoughts.  It always seemed that the men of my past filled emotional needs that had been ignored within me for so very long.  For all of the men I had loved in my life, it seemed that the intensity I felt for “him” was greater than I have ever felt for anyone that came before.  The following poem was written long ago, but just could have been used in the beginningn of each failed relationship I had experienced.  All of them and I,  connected physically;  and to me, that was love.  That was it.  The final curtain had come down, the show was over and I was on to receive my academy award for my performance of believing that this was the one.

 

 

Thoughts of you are filling my mind

Words shoot through my finger tips

and I wish I were touching you

rather than these hard keys...

I long for you

day in and day out.

Each night that I am alone

I try to remember

the last time we held each other.

The sheets are cold;

not warmed by your body

and my arms ache

to caress your chest, arms and face once again.

I like the comfort of having you near.

Of feeling your hands

glide over my body;

and basking in the warm, soft kisses

that your lips bestow.

I try to rid myself of my selfish thoughts

of wanting you all to myself.

For I know it's not possible

To give of oneself without boundaries.

I will just have to sit in anticipation

of the next time we can meet

when I can have you hold me

and make me feel safe.

I love you and miss you so.

 

 

The desperation in my words, now that I look back at my thoughts are hauntingly familiar.  I had felt this way too many times.  Not because I was truly connected with these people.  It was because my libido was awakened.  I thought it had packed its bags and left town.  It was, in a way, wonderful to know it hadn’t left after all.  It felt doubly wonderful to look out and see lust in someone’s eyes and also see them reaching out toward me.  I was wanted.  Someone felt the “hots” for me.  If I had only opened up some pockets in my brain a bit wider, I would have realized that these kind of emotions are short lived.  Everyone feels this way when they first get that initial inkling.  It’s the feeling that we get in spring.  It’s the feeling that makes our stomach fall to our feet because areas of our body are being touched or caressed and our unmentionables are allowed to scream with joy.  I wish that sometimes I had a little person on my shoulder that could whisper in my ear, “Remember?”  My resurfacing problem was  amnesia.  I never remembered how I always jumped in without nose or ear plugs.  I just opened my arms, spread my legs and let it all happen, without one piece of my brain functioning.

 

Thank God for learning lessons.  Thank God for aging and wisdom.  Thank God that those times are over.