This Is Me Trying
It’s no secret to those that know me that I’ve been experiencing writer’s block and getting consumed with a new romance or whatever you want to call it. I’m not into labels these days because, every time I think something is something, it turns out to be nothing. The optimist in me says “Have the talk, already!”; but the pessimist in me says “Stop overthinking and enjoy the moment”. There’s two things impeding my happiness: myself and a mystery lady, “JT”.
About a month ago, I started seeing someone new that I met on Tinder. I’ve met his friends. We’ve hung out quite a bit since meeting. My bullshit detector/dog likes him. We spent New Years’ together. We’ve had good sex. I’ve had more orgasms with him than I ever did with my ex-boyfriend. All of that sounds great right?
There’s just one problem: My head is taking me to the darkest places of never being enough for someone. Why you ask? Because there’s a phantom hiding in his text messages by the name of “JT”. I am using those initials because her name begins with a J and he met her also on Tinder about the same time we started talking. She has not only popped up once…but twice and in different weeks. Which lets me know A) He’s entertained her and B) She’s not fleeting. Now that we’ve approached that gray area of “Is we is? Or is we ain’t?”, this is a problem. It’s the elephant in the room when I’m with him. I wonder if it’s her that he’s replying to when he picks up his phone. Basically, this invisible bitch is living in my mind rent free.
Do I ask him to stop texting her? I don’t want to force someone to do something that they don’t want to. Am I ok with him texting her? Not really. I’m in this mindset of “Fight or flight?”. Do I discard all of his actions thus far and say to hell with it because there’s an invisible enemy? I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that I enjoy my time with him even though I loathe this nagging feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
So, I guess for right now — I will just take him at his word that he’s only interested in where we are potentially going and stop driving myself bonkers. Crazy’s not cute.