I learned a new medical term this morning: Post-coital dysphoria. PCD is the feeling of sadness, anxiety, or irritability after having s-e-x. The post-S blues. About a third of women experience this at some point in their lives.
I’m an extremely independent person; I love being alone and always have. At a very young age, I learned that I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. This is just a natural feeling that comes from neglect and, in my case, unexpected deaths of people on whom I depended. Or certain people not being by my side during catastrophic events. At the end of the day, you only have yourself.
Abandonment in childhood bleeds into adulthood, manifesting itself in other ways. PCD may very well be one of them. I get sad sometimes when my boyfriend leaves in the morning, even if I know I’ll see him later in the day. It’s strange: My brain is trained to think that every goodbye is the last goodbye. The other night, I cried my eyes out when he didn’t pick up his phone. He was going to leave his house soon to come to mine for dinner, yet over an hour had passed and he wasn’t picking up the phone. I immediately think death. A cheater wouldn’t make that mistake.
If you don’t let anyone in, you avoid being hurt. While love is great, it is a great risk and a roller coaster I’m safer not riding. Like PCD, well, if you don’t do it in the first place, you don’t have to deal with the aftermath.