Intimacy

This is a text that is exceptionally difficult for me. Some things, I gradually cannot express through standard operating procedures (SOP) anymore. I’ve said what needs to be said and what shouldn’t be said because I’m trying to clarify if the relationships constantly crossed out on my list are still possible.

I went to see her a few days early because the new clinic is too far away. So, I always prepare a list for her, letting her know about my physical health, diet, and mental health. Then, I add miscellaneous items. She examines and listens to each item, including my extremely shocking past. Sometimes I wonder, can I say it? Should I say it?

She asked if I always feel like talking, always want to buy things. I know what she’s asking. She’s asking about my manic phase.

I’ve been switching time and space, leaving here, going there, leaving again. I can’t live in the present. It’s like during summer vacation in Europe, I only breathe a sigh of relief when I board the plane because I’m stuck in a place I can’t move. I can only exist there, immobile. It’s a kind of relief.

I don’t know what this emptiness in my heart is these days. It’s as if there’s a big hole, a bit sad and fearful. Empty to the point where I think about how to pass the time — so I did a lot of yoga, read thick books, stood up to drink water, browsed various websites, and wrote letters (turning my words into text) to people from a long time ago, pointless confessions for ten years later, waiting for a reply that will never come. Empty to the point where I can go to a bookstore, wander around, and feel how boring the book market is. Although Draco Malfoy’s autobiography did make me forget my sadness, it was captivating.

But I don’t know why I feel sad and empty. Maybe it’s because Christmas vacation in Europe has started, and the tight strings I’ve held onto for so long have loosened. Maybe it’s because I no longer know what courses to take, what exams to prepare for. Maybe it’s working with people that makes me learn how to interact without being submissive. Maybe it’s knowing that my emails are sent to the eternal SPAM, I don’t know.

Sometimes I do feel that what my Canadian friend said is true, “Wait until you’re in your forties and still single, then you’ll know that fear.”

But being with someone has never been on my life list. I might just want to be a single mom; almost all my European friends are incredibly independent single moms.

So, I started using a dating app. The first guy I was invited out by ghosted me, so I called John. He calmly said, it’s normal, just keep chatting with a few more, get ghosted a few times, and you’ll know.

Years ago, when John was an exchange student in Lyon, I visited him. We sat on the dormitory bed, watched Fight Club, video-called a mutual friend. We almost ended up in bed, but we didn’t. Later, I insisted on sleeping on the floor. I always felt I wasn’t ready for intimacy.

Fast forward eight years to me being asked by a date, “A thirty-year-old virgin?” “Have you never been with anyone?” “Do you still live with your parents?”

Sir, let me tell you the story.

There are no standards in this world. Just like I thought you were a standard British gentleman, like a gentleman like Eddie Redmayne.

Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I don’t have sexual needs — it depends on how much charm you have. Just because many people have asked for my number or shown interest, and I’ve always been under tremendous work and academic pressure, unable to make commitments due to various uncertainties, so I prefer not to start. Yet, I keep my promises as a friend — this can’t be seen on a dating app.

My past is complicated, I believe yours is too. I also believe you say things without malice. It’s just that your imagination could be a bit richer. Perhaps, I do have PTSD, but that’s just one of the phenomena of my survival.

Now, I ask myself: if I’ve been hurt, why continue to try to love? Do I need it, or is it just a need created by societal structures and an illusion created by businessmen for massive opportunities? I read Matthew Hussey’s “Get the Guy” and a recommended list of single books from a friend — none of them seemed suitable for me. Instead, it made me feel like, “Oh my God, do I really need to compromise so much to find a partner? Forget it.”

In 2020, when I met Cedric, he was the only presence I believed in the chaotic world. He had just experienced a violent breakup, Covid had just been taken seriously in Switzerland, and he seamlessly transitioned to dating different girls. Maybe that’s why he came to my dorm, looking for his friend and met me. I remember him flirting with me, but I coldly rejected him because I had already decided to leave Switzerland. Also, I didn’t believe that such a charming gentleman would like me.

Three months later, unable to forget his blue eyes, I wrote him an email — he replied. Thus began a one-sided affection that still makes me wake up crying.

He came to Basel to see me, and we climbed the Alps, discussing various topics. At the same time, he continued to date many people.

This hurt me deeply. But it was enough to make me escape from Switzerland, a place I didn’t like and was about to leave.

My doctor friend said, even if he was dating many people simultaneously, so what? He could see the facts, keep you calm, isn’t that enough? At that time in Switzerland, apart from my psychologist, he was the only one who could talk to me at the same frequency.

Until today, my psychological wound still hurts, but gradually it’s not painful anymore. And I know that even what my doctor friend said, the rules that don’t apply to me, ultimately don’t apply to me. I don’t accept open relationships.

Then I ask myself: do you want to love? Do you want to be loved?

Just like I was raped, I was a thorn in the world of strange men since I was a child — an existence avoided and ridiculed. Because I’m a strong feminist, as long as someone is a bit nicer to me, I can’t help but fall in love with him in my heart. After all, any number divided by zero is infinity.

So, why do I still need sexual activity? Or rather, when I take off those thorns and have a calm and unobstructed heart, I hope I can play with men like Korean intern Amalanta, all just friends with benefits.

I think this traces back to my relationship with my parents: my mom is a very independent strong woman, but in front of my dad, she is a little woman.

Then, my mom is a harsh and demanding presence to me.

I don’t want to become like my mom, and I don’t want to find a partner like my dad.

My parents are like tightly locking themselves in the cage they constructed, partners who polish each other’s cage brighter and brighter.

Perhaps because of this, I identify as non-binary — I am a biological female, but if you ask me to play a heterosexual male, I would probably do it very well.

Hold the door for me? No need, I’m not disabled.

Pay for the meal? No need, I have my own money.

Have children with me? No need, there are sperm banks now.