Love is a crazy thing. It makes you completely ignore the most insane bullshit that just keeps happening over and over (and over) again. I can only count on one hand how many times this “L” word has happened to me, but each time it does, I find myself completely devastated and emotionally abused to a point that just doesn’t make sense for one person to endure.
I’ve always prided myself in being a genuine and sincere person. The unfortunate issue about having those qualities is that no matter what, if you are dealing with the biggest dickbag ever put on the planet who can’t get over his own hangups about women and trust, it doesn’t mean a single fuck how much you go out of your way for that person. You could roll out a god damn red carpet and feed him grapes, but if that idiot won’t do a thing to save himself and his neuroses, you will be spinning your wheels.
And lately I’ve been getting lots of cardio.
I think I need to write more, because it always becomes so clear to me when I’m reading my own thoughts off the screen how much I need to change something in my life. I mean, I think I always know deep down when someone is really getting more of me than they ever deserve, but it’s another thing to put that thought in front of the reasons you stay. I am admittedly completely swayed by charm and physical contact if a guy is sexy as fuck. And don’t be confused, it’s never a quality guy that gets me into this bind. It’s always the guys who can’t hold a job and right after you have sex jumps online and calls every girl in a relationship “beautiful.” Note: I’m never the one being called beautiful.
I know what you’re thinking, and believe me, you aren’t alone. I think these things, too. “But Becky, you have an awesome career and you bring home the bacon.” Yep, I know. “And you’re gorgeous – great figure, glowing skin, long hair, petite except for where it matters.” Mhmm. “Fucking hilarious, intelligent, educated, witty, compassionate, passionate.” I get it. But for some reason, when I see a guy I want that I don’t think I can have, I abandon all of that to focus on what I can possibly do to get him to notice me. It’s ironic, really, because in the last 10 years, I have ended up with some of the hottest (physically) guys I’ve ever seen. But they always end up with a magical sponge that takes all of my good qualities away and gets whatever they can possibly soak up all for themselves.
It’s partially my fault because I enjoy being the “fixer.” I love me a broken guy. The ones who are damaged and bleeding on the inside and just need some love. What do you know, “lost and lonelies”… I have a TON of love. Too much love. Love that oozes out my pores, in my breath when I exhale, and too often, in the tears that I cry. If you cut me open, it would be like a metastatic cancer running wild throughout my body. Love everywhere. Put me in front of a room full of emotionally fucked men, I’d be like Oprah when she’s giving out free shit. “YOU get some love… and YOU get some love.” But then what’s left for me? Nothing. Nada. The guy will stick around just long enough to get whatever he needs and then make up some nonsense that gives him an escape plan so he can go and be with his next victim.
On a positive note, I have learned that real men can’t be stolen. With the particular breed I’ve been dealing with, you can have him. Every. Single. Time. You wanna sign up for this shit? I’ll give you the pen myself. Just bend over first. Cause he likes that. (A little too much, if you know what I mean…).
But I have had it. I am completely at my limit. It’s such a hard thing to want to be with someone who looks right through you. Who will fuck you like he loves you but only reassure the fact that you aren’t his. Chemistry has to exist in healthy situations, right? I mean, I’m not even so sure. I get the feeling after being on this planet for 30 years that sex is better when it’s with someone you need like you need a hole in the head. When it’s someone who you know is completely wrong for you but you’re curious… and even if what he’s packing isn’t up to standards (…), there’s something about the idea of someone being unattainable that makes me want to rip their clothes off. I’ve been in mutually loving relationships, but I’ve never found that one that makes me want to bang them in the grocery store while walking through the produce aisle. The guy who gets calls from an ex while you’re laying in bed together though, I’ll blow him every morning like it’s the only breakfast I’ll see for weeks.
Anyway, something has to give. Because not only is it ridiculously difficult to be around someone who you’d sell organs for just to sleep with, it’s really demoralizing to give someone your all… affection, support, intimacy, compassion, and have it be rejected like you don’t matter. Maybe I should just go be like all these other girls, treating guys like shit and cheating on them. Because right now, that’s the crowd I’m losing to. It’s what you want, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
The Four Eleven 