Would I ever take the chance to love someone else? Would I ever entirely give myself up to a man in the name of love as I did in the past?
I must admit, I had laid the ground for it. Somehow, my need for love was too great. My first boyfriend used to drive past my home every day on his way to work. He’d stop before lunch, after lunch, after work and after dinner, in between these were the phone calls to repeat what we had just said or talk about the week-end parties. This was ok. We were seventeen. What was not ok was my attitude. As soon as I heard his car pull up, I’d be on my feet, racing to the door to greet him, ran to his arms. we kissed, we whispered “I love you” and other non-sense to each other’s ear. One day, my Dad gently pulled the alarm:
-“Maybe you should not run to him every time he comes, you could wait here until he enters the house.”
I couldn’t care less. I had to show my love, I had to get love, I had to get as much as possible, and totally give myself in to these emotions. I can’t say that was bad. My first boyfriend was one of the two men in my life who did not abuse me, insult me, or hit me. So kuddos to him!
Could I ever trust someone again like I trusted him? Will I ever be able to listen to a man’s voice saying “I love you” without either bursting into laughter or pulling away as a survival reflex?
After all the psychopaths (in various flavours) in my life, I did say “I love you” to a man. Just to try it out and also because I had run out of things to say in intimate moments. I knew he was not bad for me, but I also knew he was not good. I wished at the time I could be just as innocent as I was at seventeen. It probably could have turned into a love story instead of ending with a two-line email.
Taking the chance again would mean letting go of my protective shield… I am not ready.