How fucked up am I?

This text is something I wrote one late night when I couldn’t sleep, a while back when I was in Ottawa. I’ve edited it ever so slightly since then, so the grammar doesn’t suck, but as a whole, this is what was going on in my head at the time.

Back in 1996 when I was 18 years old, I was in a relationship with a girl from another city. Let’s call her Vixen. 1996 was a before most people had mobile phones and access to the Internet in Sweden. The only way for us to keep in touch was either by phone or by letters. We often used both.

I can’t remember much of how the relationship started. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.

Once when she called me, I had my best friend over. Let’s call him Brutus. He was a Finnish guy I’d gone to school with, and we’d grown up together. At that time, we were pretty inseparable, always doing things together. We shared a lot of interests spanning from girls to music, biking, computers, and god knows whatever else.

Regardless, Brutus was over at my place once when she called, and for some reason they ended up talking for a bit on the phone. I can’t remember what about, and again, it doesn’t matter. I do remember her mentioning afterward that she thought he had a hot voice. I didn’t give it much thought, but in hindsight I guess that’s why I dislike my voice these days. I was happy my best friend and girlfriend were getting along.

Shortly after that phone call Vixen came to visit me for the first time. Up until then I’d only visited her, I can’t remember if it was once or twice. She arrived, and Brutus came to hang out with us shortly after that.

As soon as they were in the same room, something changed. They hit it off at once, right there in my room, and right in front of me. I just shut down. I can’t tell you what happened after that. I guess it was my coping mechanism to distance myself from it all, to retreat to the relative safety of my mind.

There are only a few bits and pieces I recall from that time. I know that they had sex. Vixen stayed with me for several days, or rather her things did. She spent all her days with Brutus and only came back to my place to sleep. As soon as she woke up she’d go out again. After a few days of this I think my mom got fed up and had a talk with Vixen. After that, Vixen finally packed her stuff and went to stay with Brutus and his parents instead. I’m not proud of being too weak to have that talk with Vixen myself.

I think this is what changed me from being a kind of outgoing guy to someone who spends most of the time quiet, pondering on most things.

As a result of this I have serious trust issues. Unfortunately, this also applies to my few closest friends. Sometimes especially my closest friends. For example, a little while ago I had an online flirt with a girl I played games with a lot. It was only something casual and fun, and we both knew nothing would ever come of it. One time she said something flirtatious to Bumbi, who replied in kind. That was enough to launch a red alert panic mode in me, and an immediate retreat inwards.

On top of it all I am insecure. I run all possible scenarios in my head about just about everything. There are always more negative than positive scenarios running in my head. I guess we’re all stuck with the one wolf we choose to feed.

“She snapped at me. Is she mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“She’s barely touched me in a couple of days. Is she tired of me? Is she disgusted with me? What did I do wrong? Does she want me to leave?”

“She’s gone to bed clothed again. Is she cold? Doesn’t she want to undress while I’m here? Should I go to bed clothed? Is she disgusted with me?”

“I miss holding her, touching her. Should I? What if she doesn’t want me to. What if she hates it. What if she can’t wait until I go home.”

I’ve been debating for a while whether I want to share this with anyone else, seeing how my Ottawa trip turned out after I wrote the text. Finally decided to just do it, and let this be part of The Purge of things that haunt me from my past.