Fear of intimacy and the exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable
Apart from sexual affections, what do you register when you hear the word intimacy? The art? Or sweat from holding the hands? The romance? Or horror while looking into their eyes? Physical intimacy transpires beyond the sexual acts of love. For most people, it comes off as natural. For the unsettling like me, it is like a bundle of nerves. To untangle the title of my blog, I will have to unfold two events from the days of my life.
You must be at home with those “5–7 reasons you are a particular kind of freak “videos that surface on YouTube? Once upon a time, I happened to have one of those decide for me, because I decided that “7 signs you have a fear of intimacy” is not something I could possibly skip. On and on it went and with every trespassing point my eyes enlarged. It flabbergasts me when people are enlightened of me, and these guys were million steps ahead in undressing me. They sensed I am fiercely independent, I sabotage my relationships in awake consciousness, perfectionist — check, flaky and inconsistent in my behavior — check, workaholic — well yes, afraid of abandonment — double check, and to conclude, no one was supposed to be aware that I always fall for the wrong ones.
With that being said, let me have you perceive the “and” part of the title. Oh, the exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable. Brownie points, if you could acknowledge the reference. But anyways, here I shall resolve the mystery of my best-loved quotes from the goddess of all TV shows — The Sex And The City. The protagonist Carrie Bradshaw, a column writer for the New York City paper, fathoms and gets to the bottom of pain in an exquisite state.
Carrie: After we made love I knew it was over. Did I ever really love Big or was I addicted to the pain? The exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable?
Big: Come to bed.
Carrie: I wanted to go to him, but I felt like I was tied to the chair. Some part of me was holding me back, knowing I’d reached my limit. And just like that, I untied myself from Mr. Big, I was free, but there was nothing exquisite about it.
Follow me to the back story, if you must. Mr. Big is an asshole, sometimes he is all over Carrie and the next moment he is pushing her away. He does not avow for the prolonged period that “Carrie is the one”. But, we are not kicking his ass in today’s blog. We are in it for our home girl — Carrie. She identifies for herself and therefore, myself, that she pursues a dating pattern. Now, this pattern devours her with pain (exquisite pain). It is like, hurting comes naturally to her. At some point she even fancies it. But very shortly confesses that it is sick.
In case you are wondering what my deal is rambling about the YouTube video and Carrie and Big, it is pretty unwavering. In June 2019, I first confirmed myself as Carrie — going out with the wrong guys and desiring emotionally absent partners, being consciously miserable about the fact, but satisfied — as if this were the most Normal aspect of dating. I spent a copious amount of time trying to figure out the Why? After November 2019, I took off from the dating diversion, once I discovered myself repeating those patterns.
This brings us to present times October 2020, and almost a year of no dating. Most likely a self-imposed isolation. Which is when, I stumbled upon the video explaining my devious methods to myself. It is a thing about me, it astounds me to be relatable with anything or anyone ever, even in the social media times, and it does.
Everything the girl with the voice as soft as a melon spoke about, really spoke to me. But there was another WHY? You see, there is always going to be a why, and I refuse to believe there aren’t enough answers for the Why’s. For all the points I double checked above, were stemming from my childhood of being neglected and followed by a history of failed relationships (in my case only one but one is very much enough). Don’t get me wrong, I am the more loved of the two kids of my parents. But just because a person loves you does not mean they cannot neglect you. Also, I cannot put my parents on the gun point for the way they chose to raise me, life wasn’t all stardust and moonlights for us, there were always things to look out for. Things that were more rational, like stomachs filled with food, the school still available for education.
So, I raised myself, learning how to “hide feelings”. Although, my entire childhood, I was acknowledged as the one who cannot shut the fuck up but I never really spoke. I never knew what I said, and what they heard, all I ever knew was what I didn’t say and what I should have said. And I remember all the emotions I kept in hiding because they turned me into who I am. Fiercely independent, a perfectionist, workaholic, sabotaging relationships because I am afraid of relationships. With the 21 years of speaking to myself, I forgot how you give a part of yourself to another person. I started choosing the wrong guys, because I knew they wouldn’t last and although I wanted someone to ask, I knew they would never ask. And I would want them for life and beyond, because it was comforting to have someone and still be in charge of yourself.
But in the beginnings of my twenties made me shiver. I was the only one that knew me, even my journal entries were so far away from being vulnerable to the paper, that no one would ever be able to decipher me. So I worked harder, harder than I thought I would. And I am still working, it is a process of a lifetime. But I also know that even Carrie and Big made it out later in Paris, and he announced she is the one. And walking the baby steps, I have figured out a problem and taken responsibility for it. So, the next plan is to find something exquisite other than pain. How about an eye contact with a French guy in Paris, Manpreet?
XOXO
m
