As I write, the lady is currently at XS, a place with an excess of decor, a sweaty cauldron of testosterone and estrogen, alcohol, drugs, foolishness with friends, sexual organs hoping to find a counterpart.  Certainly not hating, I’ve had a lot of fun and forgotten nights there.

For various reasons, I decided not to take her up on her invitations to tag along with her friends.  So here I am, blogging on a Friday night while the lady is out clubbing with her friends.  I feel like the situation lends itself to dreaming up scenarios of harmless flirting and infidelity.  To say it plainly, I feel insecure.

Again, with a bit of effort and choice I could’ve easily accompanied her, and she would’ve welcomed me with open (or wrapped) arms.  I certainly wouldn’t want to go just to play police officer, but the mild paranoia I feel is a by-product of deciding to stay in LA.  More so, the insecurity is a combination of:

1) The situation (I feel many people would be a little paranoid if their sig. other was out clubbing)
2) Her (she’s naturally attractive, both physically and socially)
3) Me (I have my share of dormant insecurities)
4) Past relationships

To be sure, the insecurity has pretty much nothing to do with her and much to do with me.  While I shouldn’t compare a past relationship to the Holocaust, Victor Frankl wrote about two types of survivors: those who didn’t die, and those who decided to live.  While somewhat random and cheesy, I firmly believe that your disposition is a choice, despite whatever happens to you.  Despite the past, I’ve silently vowed to keep my guard down, to not be paranoid or controlling or hostile.  I shouldn’t build up a fort to see if she has the dedication to knock it down.  She doesn’t have to prove herself for a mistake someone else made.

For perhaps the first time in almost 3 years, I’ve been challenged to make good on that promise.  She’s definitely been out clubbing before, definitely been drunk in my absence, but for some reason I feel I’m at a peak in my insecurity thus far.  Maybe it’s because I am falling deeper, or that I am willingly entering a period of intense uncertainty and am praying that a rock is still there, or that I’ve reached a level of validation that only she can provide.  Whatever the case, I think my lizard brain is like freaking the fuck out, but the only logical choice is to trust her.

This is probably the most personal thing I’ve ever shared on here, but probs one of the healthier ways to get it off my chest.



2 thoughts on “Trust”

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