I want you…

How is it possible that after 33 years of interacting with other human beings I can’t connect with any of them and I’m always the one left alone and crying on my bed?

In the immortal words of Haddaway  “What is love? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more”

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How can I possibly, after all this time, still feel this amount of emotional turmoil when someone walks out? Why have I been reduced to a flesh colored pile of mush since I dropped him off at the bus station yesterday?

If you haven’t already guessed, Justin has left for South America. It felt like someone was ripping the heart out of my chest Indiana Jones style.

We hugged forever in front of the bus station and when we pulled away from each other, he licked the tears from my face.

It was both romantic and incredibly pathetic. On one hand I had finally found some whose weirdness matched mine. He made me laugh until I peed my pants. He was so good in bed that my toes would tremble.

On the other hand, he’s just another human that I knew I was placing on a pedestal hoping that he would care enough to save me from my prison of self hatred.

I have this habit of thinking the world of people when I meet them then being let down when they don’t come through for my unrealistic expectations, it’s why I don’t have many friends.

Maybe my feelings for him were amplified by the fact that I knew he was leaving.

Or maybe I really do love him and how he made me feel really good about myself for the first time in a few years.

I work with this girl that tells me about the crazy things she has her boyfriend do for her. She makes him pay for things, she has him move her things when they switch apartments, she makes him spend every moment in her presence. She plays mind games and treats men like they are robots created for the sole purpose of serving her It’s sickening, I could never treat another human being like that. There’s nothing special about this girl. She doesn’t have great self esteem and she isn’t particularly pretty, but for some reason she is able to command this level of respect that I can’t even fathom. She thinks men owe women, and that’s not right.

What is wrong with me?

Why will I never be that girl that commands that level of dedication from a man?

Do I have to start treating guys like shit? Is that what it is?

As a fervent Redditor, I know these are the kind of things that fedora wearing guys say, but I don’t care! Its my blog and I’ll cry if I want to!


Posted on June 2, 2014, in I've got the feels..., Word Diarreah... and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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