#study divination they said itll be fun they said

[roraimae]

Being a diviner is so much fun, take it from Moirai.

(It was prophetic, by the way)

[adanceforrain]

To all the boys I’ve dated (in 2018)

2017, like 2008, was a metamorphic year because I fell in love (with N)… and I think when anyone falls in love they’re never the same again. Both years a boy who I found to be special catapulted me into the stratosphere where I experienced satisfaction akin to what I imagine a devout Buddhist monk must experience once they’ve attained nirvana. And in both years, just as quickly and unsuspectingly as I found myself floating at unseen heights, I came crashing down with blazing meteoric speed. When I landed, my spirit was so shattered I forgot who I was or what made me… me. But the silver lining of being so broken is this golden opportunity to take all those unrecognizable shards and rebuild myself into something new, something better. I’m happy to say that in 2018 I was able to accomplish just that, although the recovery and repair process was far from pretty and clean.

The keys to my recovery this year were dance, friends, and boys.

Dance

While I’m still not a great dancer, learning how to dance has been so fucking liberating and empowering. In dance class I was able to explore and experiment with different facets of myself, even the ones I’d normally not have the opportunity to safely display, such as being sassy and hyper-feminine. Every class I’m looking at myself, studying my body and how it reacts to certain movements, and doing this day in and day out creates this beautiful and intimate relationship with my body. I’m much more familiar with it now than I’ve ever been. With that familiarity brings a newfound confidence. I now no longer fear getting out on the dancefloor and dancing a fool, and this freedom has renewed the novelty and enhanced the fun of going out to clubs, music festivals, and raves. Now more than ever, I feel comfortable in my body (despite being twinkier than I’ve been in the past 5 years).

Friends

Like Lady Gaga’s ‘100 People In A Room’ quote, I’ve told my closest friends my heartbreak stories more times than they care to remember, and just like Lady Gaga, each time I’d say it with as much gusto and sincerity as the first. Even after hearing a retelling of a romantic endeavor for the hundredth time, my friends still listen and provide genuine feedback (and maybe throw in an eye-roll here and there but with a pinch of love). And whenever I entered a new relationship with a boy (regardless of HOW many red flags he had), my friends still unconditionally supported me, even if that support came in the form of complete disapproval. Romance aside, simply being surrounded by people who sincerely listen and laugh at my dumb jokes is so, so reassuring about my worth as a person. To feel seen. To be loved. Even in platonic form, it’s still incredibly rewarding.

Boys

I was a mammoth of a mess this year when it came to boys, but I’d be lying if I said being so was not only helpful but essential to my recovery. For the first 3 quarters of 2018 I was dating guys for reasons I’m not proud of, especially in the early months of 2018 when the sting of heartbreak was still incisive and N’s ghost was still relentlessly haunting me. I dated four guys this year: J, R, G, and S. All of them except S were motivated in some way, shape, or form by N. J was in hopes of replacing him; R to make him jealous; G to prove to myself that by dating him, then maybe, just maybe, I could be more attractive than N because I won someone over who is so highly sought after (at least on social media). I even slept with N’s ex to get intel on N, which is arguably one of the most immoral and cunning things I’ve ever done. While I may not have succeeded in the mission set out for each respective boy, they all, in their own way, contributed to my growth as a person by showing me exactly what I didn’t want in my romantic future or myself.  

S was the first guy I dated not out of spite for N or in hopes of making N jealous or even to validate my value in the dating market but because I genuinely liked him and hoped for the best, at least in the initial honeymoon phase. In retrospect, it’s as clear as crystal that we’d never work due to our differing interests, personalities, friends, and senses of humor. I mean, there was some overlap, but we both knew (him more than me because I was too blinded by his smile), that we’d ultimately fail long term - that we’d end up hating each other. He taught me that I still stank of desperation.

I’ve always known physical attraction alone isn’t enough to fuel a thriving relationship, but fully putting that into practice has been difficult since moving to the Bay where there is a seemingly endless supply of cute boys. I get so easily entranced by devilishly handsome faces that I willingly overlook glaring incompatibilities and red flags. I think it’s because of my insecurities, of feeling like I’m not attractive enough, therefore if I date someone society deems attractive, then by association and proxy, so am I.

All the boys I’ve dated in 2018 slowly and subtly helped me realize this, but it wasn’t until August when I went to Outside Lands with G did the realization really take form. G and I were talking/dating that entire summer, and I had this seemingly inextinguishable burning desire to win him over. When he finally agreed to stay with me and be my companion that weekend, I was elated at first… until that weekend happened. Being with him left so, so much to be desired. And I needed more. So much more. I needed humor. I needed depth. I needed human-to-human connection. I needed devilish grins, glances, touches, jokes, chemistry, and sin. Instead, what I craved most when I was with him was nothing of him at all – for him to not be there. I felt constrained and hamstringed by his presence. And that was also the weekend when I discovered what I wanted and what truly matters most to me in a romance.

The truest test of my 2018 growth came in November on Thanksgiving weekend when I went to Dreamstate. By sheer luck or divine guidance, I ran into N, and we reconnected in a way 2017 Adam would have killed for. We danced. We made out. We said sweet nothings to each other the rest of the night… Once the night was over and the dust settled, I, along with all my closest friends, worried I’d relapse. But I didn’t. I. fucking. DIDN’T.  And I’m so proud of myself!!! I didn’t because of the newfound confidence and love for myself that didn’t exist a year prior. I’ve rebuilt myself from the incinerated debris of 2017 into someone new, someone better. And I could not have done it without all the boys I dated (and revenge fucked… lol).

I’m ready to date again, but there’s no longer this rabid need to find a boyfriend. Of course, I still fantasize about being married with someone I truly love and am compatible with, but that searing desire that was burning me from the inside out has cooled into a controlled glow. 2019 Adam has learned from 2018 Adam’s mistakes, and I feel confident that next time I date, it’ll be with someone for the right reasons.