Follow Your Heart, it Will Never Steer You Wrong

 Way back when I was with Steve, I was oblivious to the world around me. I was starting school and completely in love and obsessed with him.
     I vaguely remember my first day of school. I remember chatting with some people in that first class. I remember really enjoying the new life I was about to start. I remember enjoying the company of the people I had met, and enjoying myself. I really liked everyone.

     I very distinctively remember the way I felt when he broke up with me. I was beyond devastated. A healing process that took me years to overcome. It took me over a year to take off the heart necklace he gave me, because it was him that had placed it around my neck. Even a year later, when applying for my LCBO card, so I could go to the bar, the picture that was taken required me to remove all jewellery. I refused. They covered my neck with an apron instead.

     Almost two years passed before I finally took it off and moved on.

     During this time at school, I abused myself unmercifully. I slept with any boy that crossed my path remotely respectfully. As long as he could tell me I was beautiful and excuse me for my promiscuous behaviour, validating my belief that I was not the person I had become, he was permitted to pleasure himself in my body. I had obsessions over some, convinced that what I was feeling could eventually turn into a happy, healthy, loving relationship. Convinced that it would turn me into a person that everyone loved, valued and respected. If I could convince these men that I was worth having, I could convince my family that I was worth it too.
      For a long time, I believed I was worthless, disgusting. That I should get a life, like my mother told me. That I was a freak, incompetent, manipulative, a loser. Just like she had told me growing up. My self-talk was very degrading. I didn’t believe in myself at all.

     I made some friends, some close friends. All male but one. I told them my deepest secrets and desires. I created a connection on a deep level with a lot of them. Mostly, I just needed someone to tell me that all the things I thought about myself weren’t true. Some were kind, others were unhealthy. Most were very self-serving. Some thought it was a good way to get physical satisfaction. Most grew feelings for me. I had such a low self-esteem, I was oblivious to this. I thought I had created true friends. I thought that having primarily male friends was in my nature. That perhaps, I was actually just very masculine. That I could just relate to them better. 

     I had one friend, of whom I thought very highly. I was always filled with joy at the sight of him and the urge to give him a big hug. He always made me laugh, and he meant a great deal to me. I thought him a little bit strange, sometimes he would get very moody. Oftentimes, I wanted to talk to him about my newest male obsession. I should say, that was all I wanted to talk to him about.
      I had many male friends with whom I would spend time cuddling with. For some reason, I believed this was permissable, and innocent. My belief for this was based solely on the fact that Steve had found it permissable when I had done it in the past. My boundaries were very blurred, and confused. 
      But this one friend of which I speak, E is his name, was not in this category of cuddling. Our talks were lively, and often went late into the night, sometimes until morning. We had much in common, and enjoyed each other’s company greatly.

     Sometime early in my second year, E confessed his feelings for me. I was astounded. I replayed every moment I could remember in my mind. All the times he grew angry at my mention of a boy I had been with, or wanted to be with. It all clicked. His strangeness towards me during the end of the first year, his anger at my obsession with discussing boys who had no respectful interest in me whatsoever. I was completely blown away.
     But the timing was not right. I still had an unfulfilled desire to break through to someone who didn’t care for me, to make someone who didn’t love me, begin to do so. I had more pain to endure. I wasn’t ready, and nor was he.
     To make matters worse, at his confession, I had decided to make the move to satisfy my curiousity. I kissed him. He lay on top of me in my bed. Our hands wandered. And what I felt with my hands haunted me for years. Not only was there excessive amounts of pre-ejaculate fluid, his penis, or what I thought was his penis, was so distressingly small, that I was convinced there would be nothing I could do to even cover it with a condom. Literally, a stump. I was shocked. I was ever grateful that he could not see the look on my face, because he was too busy kissing me. 
     I was so embarrassed for him, and cared for him too much, I needed to protect him. I could not tell a soul. I had been too afraid to look, what I had felt had shaken me so badly. I wondered how he would ever be happy, if he was unable to make love. My heart went out to him. But I needed some time to think.
     Not only did I now have strong feelings for him that were as much more than a friend, but I had a lot to think about. For two weeks I avoided him, and thought of nothing other than what I was to do next. What was I going to say? How could anyone live their lives, not knowing they had such a problem? And if he did know, how could he not give me forewarning?

     Finally, I saw him. I had made my decision. Even if he was the man of my dreams, I could not live a life with a man that was incapable of intercourse. I told him that things weren’t going to work between us. He smashed a light cover in the college residence that was already smashed up. I was an RA, on duty at the time of its occurrence. I was not impressed with his display of immaturity. What kind of friend would do such a thing? He must not be that great of a friend anyway, as the security guard (whom I later dated) had said to me.

Four, almost five years went by. During which time, both of our lives gave us many experiences. I moved across the country and back again. I spent three and a half years with a man that, although he cared greatly for me, was handicapped in his ways of showing it. He put me down, called me names and we argued. He was a lot like a beaver, very hardworking but incapable of a proper relationship. He suffered from alcoholism. I spent many nights awake, hoping he was not dead. I memorized his license plate number and reported it to the police countless times. Never once did he get caught drunk driving. Every incident ended up the same. He was terribly sorry the day after. Swearing to never behave that way ever again. He meant it, heart and soul. Every single time.
     But, as is the nature of alcoholism, he lost all ability to see the damage he had caused when the urge to do something stupid occurred to him  again. I did not know, and when I did know, it took me a long time to understand the nature of his problem. Even after I understood, it was another year before I accepted. Even after Iaccepted, I was unsure of my own role in the grand scheme of things. I was in very heavy denial for the majority, if not all, of my relationship with this boy.

     I finally gained the strength, wisdom and acceptance to leave him. But this didn’t mean that I was all-knowing. Just days after leaving this relationship, I had fallen right back into my ways of self-destruction. Not terribly different from alcoholism itself. Codependency manifests itself in many different ways. I am still not "cured" of this, if I shall permit myself such a term. I digress.

     There were several more boys that I made the mistake of allowing myself to obsess over. My return encounter with E, happened during this time. I had gotten into contact with him at the very end of my relationship with the long term boy. He was concerned for me, and listened to me speak of my latest obsession, who was outside of my relationship.

     He had been dating a girl for two years. She was, like him, a very big girl. I had remembered looking at their pictures and thinking "I’m glad he found someone to be happy with. Perhaps she loves him enough not to care for the size of his penis, that he can not pleasure her in those ways. She’s a better woman than I am. I’m just very glad he is happy."
     I did not know it at that time, but it was a very unhealthy, sad relationship. He was as unhappy in it as I had been in mine. He had taken another, third year in college. Incomplete, but still he learned enough material of a second course that he was only one credit short.
     He had, like me, moved to this current city we were both living in for his ex girlfriend. 

     Five months after my bad relationship had ended, I was obsessing over yet another boy. He was interested in fishing and had taken me with him, sparking in me a new found excitement for the sport I had not had since I was a child. Wanting to out-compete him, I contacting E out of the blue. I asked him what his plans were for the weekend. When he replied that he had nothing, I informed him that he was going to take me fishing.
     We had a fantastic time. He sparked in me the same feelings I had before. A curiousity-filled desire entered my being. Along with that came a very great sadness. A regret for his manhood, that he could never provide me with pleasure.
     That day I had a long talk with him about my latest obsession whom of course, had many great doubts over. E was wonderful to me. He allowed me to come to my own conclusions. Letting my own doubts fill my mind with resolve. Halfway through the day, I ended the affair through a text, since that’s all the boy had granted me anyway.
     I was intrigued, interested, comfortable and content with my friend that had returned. I also felt very alone and sad without my obsession. I went home that night, and returned to E’s house the next day. I spent the night on his couch, where he slept at the opposite end. Things only moved as quickly as I allowed them to. Several days passed, and my regret and sorry for him grew greater until I suddenly felt the need to say something one very spontaneous moment.

     He was always very perceptive of me. Once the thought of talking to him about it crossed my mind, there was no turning back. He read it all on my face as if he knew what I was going to say. Of course he didn’t, he only knew what he could read: that the thought of telling him something had crossed my mind. Thus the horrifying awkward moment began. As it turned out, all those years ago, I should have just bloody well looked! What I had felt was nothing more than the head of his penis. He was more well-endowed than most.

     I suppose I won’t go into much more detail than that. But I will tell you that never in my life has my body been so well matched with someone. Never have I felt that this man, was the man I should have lost my virginity to. This man could do things for me that no boy had ever done before. This man, was – a MAN! An experience I had never had before! My feelings grow and grow.

     There’s much more…so much more. but the experience is so much more wonderful than I could ever put into words. I had heard, SO many times before, "when you know, you just know" and wondered and thought how could that be possible? How could you possibly just "know"?!
      Then I experienced what I thought might be pregnancy. I knew, my body was telling me I was. And I knew somewhere deep inside, I knew that I was. I had doubts, concerns. Maybe it was all just inside my own head? Yesterday, I went to the doctor. I received confirmation of my pregnancy.
     The feeling I had of "knowing" I was pregnant, is exactly the way I feel about my one and only MAN. I know intuitively, on a gut level, that he is my one and only. Just like how I knew I was pregnant. That is what is meant by knowing. And I am so happy. So happy I could burst… Life is so beautiful, and precious. I am carrying my one and only’s child. How did I come to be so blessed? I am so grateful, for everything my life has given me. All the pain and the heartache, has lead me to this happiness. Words can not tell you how wonderful this is.

     My advice to you all, for anyone who cares to take the time to read this. Your one and only is out there. And they may be closer than you realize. It may not be where you would expect. Take time for your self-care. Pay attention, at all times to what your heart and soul is telling you. Notice when you may be in denial. If you hear something that you don’t like to hear, if you get angry at the response of people, then you are not following your heart. Because if you were, it wouldn’t matter what anyone has to say about anything. Love will make it through it all. I bless you all, please read this with your heart open. Let this touch your soul. Everyone deserves their own happiness.