Apologies from Medellin

It was my first time on eharmony.

I was serious about finding love. This time I was going to the most obvious platform for that, Eharmony.

As described by a "pick-up artist" dating blog, the description of the women;

"Girls who are ready to eat a bullet if they don't have a baby soon."

I was encouraged by my age, and by getting revenge on my ex girlfriend I was burned by. I was 35, and I needed some stability in my life.

Would I have kids again?

I already had a son and a very tight relationship with an ex wife. (Which is another book entirely)

My son is autistic, and while I've learned to live and accept this, I was unsure about the possibility of it happening again. It's emotionally a lot to handle.

My son doesn't speak directly to me, nor is he interested in communicating with me most times.

As a person who relies on communication as his love language, this is very hard on me.

I didn't realize this at the time, because I didn't read it out of spite. Women I dated told me I needed to read it because "I sucked" at communicating.

I am incredibly sensitive, but also very aggressive.

An awful drunk combination. A kryptonite you might say, but hey, fuck yourself, it's my kryptonite sometimes. I can do what I like if I don't hurt anyone.

It's tough to be trapped in this head that is always spinning. I seek depressants to turn it off sometimes.

I digress to the original story. This is why I suck in relationships because I make it about myself.

A performer to the end.

Back to this amazing person I treated like shit.

We went through the insane process eharmony puts you through. Questions questions, and more questions.

How compatible are you??

As if you can know over the fucking internet. I can be Jimmy Hoffa if I want. I have wikipedia. I am aware of this thing called google.

We finally met. Coffee. Wild earth. My spot, no wifi, which is annoying. It's gone now.

It was cozy for me. I did so much schooling there. The sun would beam inside of it. It was magic.

I had so many first dates there.

They always liked me more than I liked them.

I had no idea who I was!

I hated myself.

I was a wanderer like my father. I was destined never to trust another person.

Nothing in my life worked out the way I wanted it too.

I wasn't rich, or famous, or anything.

I was hot air. Coming off of 5-years of sobriety and a failed engagement.

I should've married her.

She would have made the worst ex-wife.

That's the booze. The self-loathing.

I digress back to the original story.

To this brilliant person I treated like shit.

Wild earth, first coffee, sun.....right!

She was late, I thought this was incredibly rude.

She came in blazing about her day, talking about her dad at a music festival she just came from.

Great boobs.

She had 2 masters degrees.

I went to NAIT, a cheap little technical school.

We had a bit of a discrepancy.

She came from a privileged background, myself, a little trash, but my mother made sure we were intelligent.

A recipe for insecurity for me.

She had amazingly tall beautiful body, tiny head. And a very abrupt way of communicating.

Sexy when shy and coy, sharp and to the point.

As an insecure man she kept me guessing. I still to this day don't know if she liked me.

The sex was rocky. I had a super hard time holding back my orgasm and lasting.

She would have thought it was because of her blowjobs. They were insanely aggressive, kind of felt the way an alpha, straight man would suck your dick.

Hard and fast, to the point of pain.

And she thought she was the best. I never corrected her.

Because even a bad blowjob is still good. Like tiger tail ice cream, it's still ice cream.

She would correct me though, on my licking technique. Angrily adjusting my head to suit her need.

"More like tapping through a bunch of instagram stories, less like Muhammed Ali hitting a speed-bag."

Her honesty pissed me off and I would huff a lot. I needed verbal reassurance at all times. I still do sometimes.

She was brutally honest. (What a word to describe the truth) Weird when you write it out.

We drank a lot together. I think it was really the only way we could stand each other.

I fell in love with her friends. They were marvellous people. Lovely family, with its fair share of emotional traumas.

An unfaithful father, very successful attorney. He would not listen or remember any details. Their mother committed suicide after the fathers affair. He married a large family together with his mistresses large family, two broken homes pieced together through a weird love/guilt mash.

She would get very upset with me when I couldn't remember details. Schedules, her friends, things she mentioned. It started to give me anxiety we would be in a fight all the time.

Later I would come to realize there might be a possibility I have short term memory loss from head trauma due to boxing. Or it's possible information like that isn't that important.

I do have a pretty great memory, when I want.

About three months into our relationship she told me she was pregnant. I did my best to be as supportive as I could, but I was terrified.

The prospect of being another weekend dad made me nervous. There was already a tremendous amount of guilt leaving my first wife.

I went right to the doomsday scenario.

She sobbed and looked at me apologetically. I think in some weird, "lets get along with the jones's" type way, she wanted that baby.

After all she was 38 and the clock was running out. (See douchy pickup artist line above)

She also knew she didn't trust me.

And for good reason. I wasn't totally committed, and neither was she.

Funny for a couple of people on a "serious"dating site looking for marriage and children.

We decided it would be best to not have the baby. There was a weird "Are we doing the right thing?" type feeling to it.

Later on she would tell me she felt like she might have missed out on that opportunity. The fact was I felt she was more interested in a baby than me, something I would come across frequently dating afterwards.

I was resentful towards women for only seeing my potential as a provider. Which I am not good at.

I'm great at fucking.

I'm great at having fun.

I'm a great friend. Most times. Not all the time.

Why couldn't these terrified women just appreciate me for me?

I'm not trying to change you! Leave me alone!

Why did I stay and allow myself to give in to these insecurities I have in myself?

She saw something special enough in me to give me a shot at that, she just wanted me to be all-in.

Which I was not.

I was thinking about the girl that had just broke my heart. She had moved on and found her provider.

I wanted to prove to her in a social media world who was happier without who.

When we broke up, she was heartbroken. I just didn't buy it.

She was always so sharp and rude to me.

I would like to think it was she saw my potential.

The problem was we were living in a time when I didn't.

I wanted to show them all I was adventurous. I wasn't scared to step outside my comfort zone. So I booked a spur of the moment flight to Medellin Columbia.

There I had a transformational experience. Travelling by myself for the first time. Nothing but a backpack and a decent understanding of spanish, I went searching for adventure.

What I found was beautiful human behaviour, and an understanding of the gratitude of just being alive.

Medellin is the city of eternal spring. It rains everyday in the early evening for 20 minutes or so, and starts anew. And what a history to have to wash away. And what beautiful people that grew out of such unbelievable trauma.

I returned with the desired effect. She was in love with me. She was excited and impressed by my audacity. We hooked up a few times and it was different and fun again. I could hold it in, having been involved in the non-monogamous life and having plenty of sex.

Attending parties, threesomes, orgies, swapping, and hot wives were all part of my world. And slowly becoming the norm.

My birthday came and she wanted to take me out. I was excited to tell her abut my new sexual embarkation, and maybe even see if she would join me in my new sexual liberation. She could find her other fantasies and be happy with me at the same time!

I proceeded to run up a massive booze tab. Which she paid for since it was my birthday. At the end I came clean about my new lifestyle, and the fact I was still in love with the girl before her when we were together.

She keyed in on the last point.

She didn't even care about the lifestyle stuff.

She felt completely betrayed.

We left and did the awkward fighting couple walk. You know where they walk 10 feet in front of you with their arms crossed angrily? You are behind them pleading for them to slow down and talk to you.

Everyone around knows EXACTLY what is happening from the energy, and has been fortunate enough to be in such a passionate situation to be able to understand the immaturity of it.

We ended up at her place. We still had sex for some reason. She didn't want to let me go.

I was so focused on the lifestyle I was in no matter what. I had found a new way of living my life and it was giving me an amazing confidence and shrinking my ego. I felt like a fucking rock star.

We met after she had gotten back from a trip. A trip she had been sending me pictures of her the whole time. She was now just a part of the abundant amount of women in my life that needed attention.

We went for brunch when she got back. We had been spinning in circles trying to figure out what the future had in store for us.

Relationship purgatory.

I'll never forget her words that day;

"I just need you to go away."

I just said "ok."

More out of respect. She was telling me her boundaries, and what she needed to move on.

We left the restaurant and talked outside. It was hard for her. It was easy for me because I didn't take monogamous love seriously anymore. We could have each other any time we wanted with an open mind, in my new life.

She walked away, and I got into my car and started to text my future girlfriend. We were headed to a lifestyle birthday party and it was to be our first date. She is another story.

As I sat in the car my face looking in my lap, there was a tap on the window.

I rolled the window down, and she kissed me.

Maybe it was one last kiss for old time's sake,

maybe it was one last ditch effort.

Whatever it was I didn't appreciate it at the time.

I do now.

I have this weird need for reconciliation. It's not everyone's way, some people need to keep the past in the past.

I think you should always treat someone as though they are dead. Meaning their sins die with them and you are left with the good memories.

Some people go the opposite.

I was wrong for trying to have it my way.

That being said i can't stop being me, anymore than you can you.