In Sex Love and Obesity Part 10, I introduced you to Peter, a man who was about to change my entire world. He was about to teach me one of the biggest lessons I have learned when it comes to relationships after weight loss.
Attention seeking can lead you down a dark rabbit hole.
October turned into November. Remember, I told you that November tends to be a defining month in my life when it comes to relationships. A lot can happen in a short time. In the next month Peter had moved out of his house and was moving forward with his divorce. Even though I clearly had him in the friend zone, he convinced me that I should come for a visit.
Prior to the visit we discussed some of my trepidation about getting involved in a relationship with someone else in the weight loss community. I had body image issues after weight loss. I still had body image issues after weight loss. I had struggled with the excess skin issues. I was honest about all of this. I wasn’t quite sure if those issues applied only to my body or if they would also apply to someone else’s body if I tried to have a relationship with someone who was earlier in their journey than I was. I didn’t want to be that jerk who had an issue with someone else’s body or made someone else feel uncomfortable in their own skin. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.
I’ve learned now, that not wanting to hurt someone while generally a noble personality trait, is one of my biggest weaknesses. It’s one of the primary reasons I have a hard time with closure, with being honest about my feelings or lack thereof. It’s one of the primary reasons I stay in relationships that I am unhappy in for far too long.
I went to for a visit the second week of December.
I won’t say it wasn’t amazing. It was amazing. Absolutely amazing. From the moment I arrived, the grandiose romantic gestures impressed me. He paid attention to things I liked, to things I said, and he fawned over me. There was never a moment when I didn’t know that he thought I was the most beautiful woman he had ever met and that he wanted me. There were yellow roses greeting me when I got to his house. My favorite drinks where in the refrigerator. There were little presents for me that showed how much he had paid attention.
We went for a run. He cooked Mickey Mouse shaped protein pancakes for me. He treated me like a princess. He played music I loved rather than every other guy in my life that had always forced me to listen to the music he liked when we were together. I felt special, I felt wanted, and before I knew it, slightly intoxicated on his couch, I kissed him.
That kiss lead to the most amazing sex I have ever had in my life. That is no lie. If I wrote a book about it that incident, in words would turn into a sexual encounter that made women swoon. The sex was amazing. It was unselfish, both of us doing everything we could to try to please the other. More than it was physical, it was an emotional. I’d never experienced anything like it in my life. I didn’t know where he ended and where I began. For hours and hours and hours, and I am not exaggerating the experience lasted six or seven hours I felt more connected to any human being that I ever had in my life.
The next morning, when I woke up to the smell of turkey bacon and pancakes, I reminded him that nothing had changed. That we we’re not dating, that we were not in some serious relationship.
The next night was the same. The sex was passionate. I didn’t feel like we were two people going through the motions. I didn’t feel like he was there because I wanted him to be. I knew he wanted to be there in that moment with me. For the first time in my life I felt like someone had made love to me instead of just having sex with me. That feeling brought me to tears. I’d literally cried as we shared this experience. In those moments, where I felt cherished, made love to, where I felt like the only woman in the world that existed to him, where this chemistry manifested between us and I felt connected on a level I had never experienced before, I felt healed inside.
I felt like every broken and damaged piece of me was being put back together. I felt whole.
We stayed up the entire night before he had to drive me to the airport. Wrapped up in each other’s arms tangled in the sheets, trying not to miss a single moment of bliss. I cried because I had to leave. Because I had to go home and face all the demons, dangling relationship strings and hurt that was waiting for me there.
Everything about Peter impressed me.
He had a steady job, his own place, he bought me nice little gifts, paid for dinner when he took me out. When it came to a new relationship, I wanted someone who was financially secure. I was tired of always struggling financially with someone. I was tired of being the bread-winner in the relationship. I was tired of working my ass off so that everyone I was involved with could survive and tread water with me.
He was a gentleman. He opened doors for me to walk through, opened the car door for me to get in and closed it behind me. He held my hand while he was driving.
He understood that I was a Daddy’s girl. He knew not only how much I missed my father but how much I respected him. How I sought a man with old fashion, traditional cowboy values and he vocalized how he wanted to be a man my father would like, someone my father would be happy to see me end up with.
The airport good-bye on that trip was something I’ll never forget.
To this day I will say, that what happened on the airport curb at the end of that trip was something right out of a romantic drama. It was without any shadow of a doubt the moment I feel in love with him.
We both struggled on the ride to the airport. I was surprised at how emotional he was. Tears streamed down his face as he told me that he wasn’t ready for me to leave yet.
When we got to the curb, he took my luggage out of the car. I stood there, with all my emotional walls built on up, trying to make sure that I didn’t give him any signs that I cared and that I was considering anything more than a friendship. The words that came out of his mouth took my breath away.
“Pandora, I’ve always been that guy that has never really tried to go after what I wanted. Never felt worthy of it and never really chased it. But I’m not going to do that with you. If you and I don’t end up together it is going to be because you decided that it wasn’t going to happen, not because I didn’t do everything I possibly could to make it happen.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t breathe, I swallowed the lump in my throat and I knew that I needed to walk away before I let my guard down, showed him I cared and gave him the power to hurt me that comes with letting someone know you care that much about them. I managed to mutter up the words “I’ve got to go,” and tried to grab my bags and walk away. He grabbed me, stopped me and kissed me.
I was too emotional to remember anything he said after that. My world was spinning. He had me. Right then and there, he had me. Everything he had done for the last six weeks had paid off. I walked away before he got a chance to see me break down and cry. I cried most of the airplane trip home, listening to songs on repeat that reminded me of him like a teenage girl in love.
I was terrified. I knew two things for certain in this moment. One that I was hopelessly in love with him and two, that no matter what happened next, it was either going to end with the “happily ever after” that I was dreaming of, or it was going to end in tragedy.
The ironic thing is I thought the issue would be that I was broken and damaged and incapable of love. I thought the tragedy would be that I would break his heart.
Stay tuned for Sex Love and Obesity Part 12 – Chasing Happily Ever After