heartbreak again
Some things are common knowledge, like the fact that I'm a commitment-phobe. Turns out I'm also just a cold-hearted bitch. Some of you have already known that as well. But now it's official. So what do I do? Stop dating? Warn men? Hahaha. Some of you know I've tried that too.
This is fucked.
Part of me realizes that I pursue men even when there is a big old fat red flag. Like, ya know, a WIFE. Other times they're just ridiculous, crass little boys, or alcoholics, or dead beats, or unemployed, or they represent some perverted meaningless fantasy. In that case, it's not my fault they fell in love, but it IS my fault I pursued them to begin with.
Why has it taken me almost 30 years to get that? Why do I keep wasting my time, my body, my spirit on losers? Sometimes there's nothing wrong with them. Sometimes they're great fucking guys. Then I pursue them because they're a good, wholesome man who I SHOULD date. . .even if the passion is lacking. And that need for passion (even if it's fleeting and false) is enough to start the same cycle over again. Bouncing, bouncing, always bouncing from one guy to the next, leaving this trail of broken hearts behind me without an ounce of remorse.
How the fuck did I end up this way? Why? What fucked up thing must have happened to twist my brain like this?
Now he's the one asking me: What's the catch? You're too good to be true, he says.
Should I tell him the catch? Should I say, "No matter how wonderful, sweet and handsome, thoughtful, communicative and real you are, I will fucking annihilate you? I will make you fall in love with me and one day, for no reason at all, I'll wake up and decide I'm done with you? I'll even warn you about it from day one, but you won't believe me. You'll think you're different, and that you can change me. We'll come up with all these pretty little rules so it couldn't happen to us, and we'll make sure we talk very openly and have no secrets. . .then, when I leave you broken and bitter, I'll say 'I'm real sorry', but I'll be a smoke silhouette and a vapor trail before you can say 'wait'??"
This happens every time. Every.single.time. No matter how it starts. It always ends the same.
And I can't stop.
There is no answer, and this is not ok.
This is fucked.
Part of me realizes that I pursue men even when there is a big old fat red flag. Like, ya know, a WIFE. Other times they're just ridiculous, crass little boys, or alcoholics, or dead beats, or unemployed, or they represent some perverted meaningless fantasy. In that case, it's not my fault they fell in love, but it IS my fault I pursued them to begin with.
Why has it taken me almost 30 years to get that? Why do I keep wasting my time, my body, my spirit on losers? Sometimes there's nothing wrong with them. Sometimes they're great fucking guys. Then I pursue them because they're a good, wholesome man who I SHOULD date. . .even if the passion is lacking. And that need for passion (even if it's fleeting and false) is enough to start the same cycle over again. Bouncing, bouncing, always bouncing from one guy to the next, leaving this trail of broken hearts behind me without an ounce of remorse.
How the fuck did I end up this way? Why? What fucked up thing must have happened to twist my brain like this?
Now he's the one asking me: What's the catch? You're too good to be true, he says.
Should I tell him the catch? Should I say, "No matter how wonderful, sweet and handsome, thoughtful, communicative and real you are, I will fucking annihilate you? I will make you fall in love with me and one day, for no reason at all, I'll wake up and decide I'm done with you? I'll even warn you about it from day one, but you won't believe me. You'll think you're different, and that you can change me. We'll come up with all these pretty little rules so it couldn't happen to us, and we'll make sure we talk very openly and have no secrets. . .then, when I leave you broken and bitter, I'll say 'I'm real sorry', but I'll be a smoke silhouette and a vapor trail before you can say 'wait'??"
This happens every time. Every.single.time. No matter how it starts. It always ends the same.
And I can't stop.
There is no answer, and this is not ok.