Time

Just before the lockdown was set in place, and we were blessed with the freedom to leave our houses for reasons other than emergencies and a series of walks that no one would ever have taken before quarantine began, I went on three dates with a guy I met online. He was great, treated me nicely, pulled my chair out for me when I sat down and paid for my dinner when we went out to eat, he was a nice guy. Thing is, there just wasn't anything there for me and, whilst I enjoyed his company, I knew I didn't feel any kind of romantic or sexual attraction to him.

He, however, seemed to feel the opposite, and at the end of said third date slipped into the conversation that he was my boyfriend. I freaked out, panicked, and ran into my house whilst messaging my friends who thought it was really great that I'd met someone. They were happy for me, but I just wasn't feeling it and, in turn, was kind of scared.

The freaking out amped up a notch when, after returning from a trip, he turned up at my house uninvited at 8pm wearing rubber gloves and a face mask to give me a gift he'd brought me from Italy. Now, I don't like people knowing where I live, never have done. I don't know if it's because I move around so much or because it takes a lot for me to feel safe and comfortable somewhere, but my house is my house and, for the most part, I'm happy being there alone. To some it would have seemed like a romantic gesture, it's a scene straight out of every teen movie after all, but for me, it was too much, and I had to end it.

In contrast to this, I put up with being with my ex on and off for three years without us ever admitting we were together. He never told me he had any form of feelings for me, but we were a couple. Our "arrangement" as he called it began on odd terms where he misunderstood how I felt about him, and we carried on in the same vein until he finally got a girlfriend a few years later.

There are some days I think of that sentence in my head and rephrase it as "someone he wanted people to know he was with" which really says a lot about my self-esteem.

When I was with River last year, he would never put any labels on our relationship because it made him feel uncomfortable, despite the fact that he was essentially living with me at one point. He would only see me once a week, often tell me that I was supposed to be a one night stand and all in all make me feel like crap. In spite of how unhappy I was, in spite of how many times I told myself he needed to go, I refused to end things. I don't know if it was in fear of being alone, or because I am used to the one being left and, subsequently, hurt, but I just didn't feel able to do it. As it turns out my refusal to end things myself became irrelevant, as he broke up with me via text anyway, citing my BPD as his reasoning.

Not a nice guy in the end.

What I'm struggling with at the moment, and by struggling I mean inexplicably trying to unpick as a way of deflecting from being governmentally required to stay alone with my thoughts 24 hours a day during the anniversary of the worst month of my life, is trying to work out why I do this. Why do I freak out when someone who treats me well and wants to be with me, but allow myself to be hurt by someone who treats me like garbage? For a long time, I thought it was purely because I thought it was the treatment I deserved but, lately, I'm wondering if there's more to it than that. Am I really as afraid of getting close to someone as I seem to be?

I don't know if it's a BPD thing or something else, but right now I feel completely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and somehow scared of getting close to anyone whilst simultaneously emotionally drained as a result of being alone.

Ah, quarantine brain, you got to love it.

xXx