He’s 10 years younger than me. I have only seen him once but…there was some kind of sexual tension in the text messages we exchanged. And I need to get laid so badly.
So, whenever it is that I’ll see him again (sometime this week) I’ll do my best to seduce him, by making him feel good with me. I want him to like me. I need to be liked and desired – just as G used to.
Oh God. This pain is so deep I wonder how I can go on and dream of better scenarios. I want G to miss me, to be desperate for me and get lonely and depressed over what he did to our magic love story. As for now, the one who is agonizingly desperate and full of regret is myself. I’m so desperate that I’ll throw myself at this 28yr old.
Hmm…let’s try something different here: I hope very very soon both G and me will be happy with our own lives, respectively. If I were happy, I would not mind him to be happy too. Because, right now his happiness with his newly found love feels like a stab in my back. And I just can’t breathe any more. He took away my oxygen leaving me deep down underwater in apnea. Drowning.
I cannot stop crying. I’m out of my mind. I just feel this immense pain for the one single person that tore my heart apart and made my life a nightmare, the one person to forget whom I threw myself at MC, begging him not to dump me and begging him to hurt me if he wanted to, but never to let me go. MF is the origin of all my mistakes men-wise.
We met seven years ago. We saw each other on and off for 4 years. I have spent the last 3 years trying to get over him and desperately trying to cope with the horrible burden he and his friends left for me to bear.
MC told me: ‘I’ll make you forget him’, and he did, he made me say that he meant more to me than MF; he managed to do that by abusing me psychologically and physically for three years. He simply brainwashed me.
Ironically, now that MC is gone (thank God!), MF is back: he just bumped into me at the pool and wouldn’t let me go. I really didn’t want to talk to him but he went on and on… and my old scars were pried open once again.
I do not deserve this shit, I really don’t. It is so much better to be alone than having to deal with these scumbags. It is so much better indeed. Please, leave me alone! I hate you. I HATE YOU.
Everything was going well, by 11 pm I had finished my work, and had had a healthy diet, I had meditated and was completely relaxed. Then, as I was in bed and out of the blue, images from MC came to my mind and I started crying my tears out.
I sent him one more message: ‘I will always be yours, even if you don’t want me I will love you forever’.
I already regret sending him such a stupid message – stupid in as much as he obviously not only does not give a damn about me, but openly scorns me. All this addiction of mine to MC is not really a sign of true love, it is the sign of my phatomless loneliness.
MC is just the last in a row of people whom I’ve begged to be loved by.
This goal, along with many others, is actually on hold: my social life sucks and it is only fair to simply admit that I have none.
However, I do have some acquaintances that are/might be interested in me. Too bad none of them is right for me, and, most importantly, I am not at my best: quite the contrary, I’m at my historical lowest (well, of course one can always get worse…). Therefore, I feel I should spend time taking care of myself, rather than exposing myself to potentially hurtful situations such as dating.
On the other hand, there are times when I crave some human contact: I miss the feeling of being appreciated – both sexually and emotionally – by a man. This underlying solitude pushes me to fantasize about MC, as if HE was Mr Right. In a way he is, as far as good looks and social status/intelligence. Unfortunately that is not enough.
It is easier for me to fall for somebody who is unreachable, like MC, or that is blatantly unfit to be my life partner (i.e.: guys 10-12 yrs younger than me).
There is a voice inside my head telling me that I don’t need to be in a relationship right now. But there is also another voice telling me that I really need a break and if I’m so lucky as to meet somebody who would like to be with me even if I’m not at my best, even if I’m much older than him and overweight, well, I should be grateful and appreciate it.
Right now there are two guys that might give me that break from loneliness: one is V, the electrician, and the other is a student. I like the student best, but no way anything will ever happen between us: a relationship with him would jeopardize my career and I cannot afford that, so all I hope is to be friends with him.
V, on the other hand, is an easy catch. He would not damage my carrer, only my self esteem: at 37 I really need more than some 25 year old electrician who is not even that good looking.
So, it all boils down to this: how desperate am I to be in a relationship (and especially, to have sex?)?
The truth is, I should be focussing on my research instead, not on men.
Love doesn’t matter if you are not loved in return.
I have loved so deeply, I have made so many sacrifices and I have accepted to be treated with no respect and to be taken advantage of – all in the name of love.
I have believed that, by giving love, my love would eventually conquer his heart (I’m especially thinking of MF and MC, they were the ones who pushed me to my limits).
I was so WRONG!
Love doesn’t make any difference: it can only hurt you – oh so badly!
I don’t think it is humanly possible to love somebody more than I loved MC (considering distance and conditions), and the result is that I’ve created a sex maniac that won’t leave me alone and who doesn’t give a damn about me.
So, this kind of love – the one-way, unreciprocated kind of love, is worthless. Worse, it’s dangerous. It’s so useless.
At this point, I’m not sure what romantic love is anymore. I gave it all I had and got only bad things in return.
A boyfriend, a partner for life…bah…it feels like I’m chasing a reverie.
Since the very first time I had sex in my life, I felt this urge to connect at some deeper level with the person I had had sex with.
I find this attitude of mine has cost me a lot of pain, frustration
and sense of worthlessness.
If I happen to have sex with someone, this does not mean that the following day I will be in any sort of deep connection/relationship with this person. The kind of relationship I should expect to have is the same as it was before the sex took place, or maybe even less nice because sex is a self-consuming activity: once it’s been done, it loses much of its lure.
Of course things change dramatically if there are feelings involved. But feelings are rare, and I was well aware that with PD it was just sex.
If I did not particularly enjoy having sex with him, why do I now feel connected to him, why do I want him to be mine again? Why do I feel hurt that he is not asking me out again today? Why do I want to be with him at all??
This is a mystery. I really don’t understand this behaviour of mine.
I know that PD will come back to me sooner or later: he wants more sex from me, and he will ask for it. Me, on the other hand, consider sex as a means to be loved – yet I’m well aware that the chances that he will fall in love with me are very few. Besides: I don’t like him that much, he is not the right guy for me. So why, WHY waste my time after him???
This is just very foolish on my part. My self esteem is getting lower.
PS: I had lunch with the Smurf today: I had a great time, he seemed to have enjoyed his time with me and we laughed a lot – we had a really good time togheter. Real good.
I did it. With the fitness instructor. It wasn’t worth it. Not at all. Beautiful and sexy as I was (and after having given it so much thought), I found myself with this huge pile of muscles and a teeny tiny mind: he was mostly meat. Very little soul. He left me totally disappointed.
He was not in the least as eager to have sex with me as he had pretended to be: I was right, all he wanted was to get laid, this makes for a very poor quality of sex itself. Btw, he is not that handsome: now that I’ve seen him better, he is far from perfect, actually I don’t even like him that much, I don’t know why I believed he was this super-sexy stud: he is not (I probably got that impression on the first date because I compared him with the Smurf, who is notoriously ugly).
What’s worse, he managed to awaken my sex drive – after I had so painfully managed to put it aside. Result is: frustration.
I did not want sex in the first place, he made me wanna have it, I had it, and my level of satisfaction was below zero. What a mess!!
I must confess something: as soon as he left, I dialed MC phone number and let his phone ring once. It was 2 am in the morning, and he called me back. He asked me to go visit him in June (he lives abroad for the time being).
I am confused now and on the brink of a psychological and physical breakdown. Recently I’ve been getting too many inputs from the outside world. I need time and peace to process them. Otherwise, I make mistakes. As I just did. Huge mistake. This scares me – I am scared. What have I done??
Some day I will meet someone who will complete me and make me happy. I will preserve myself for that person. Some day I will be happy with him. Yes…I will. Or else I’ll keep being alone. It sucks all right. That’s OK…
I already gave up on casual and/or extreme sex. I tried it, it pushed me to the brink of suicide and badly affected my social life and reputation (I’m still paying for it). I’m not falling for that again. I almost did it last night and it was one more mistake. I should not have gone out with him. A fitness instructor: what was I thinking??? He’ll probably tell all our common friends that we had sex, and who knows what sick stuff he’ll say about me, just to get even.
Sh*t! I’m so fed up with this kind of behaviour… I cannot take it anymore. I will not comply with anyone else who attempts to play me along, as so many have done until now. I want to be free from this shit – it sucks. I want to be free, I want to be me. I want to swim, I want to windsurf. I want to feel good AT LEAST with myself. The rest can all go to hell.
It’s me, me, me – and a few other things that make me happy. Sick bastards are not among them.
The fling is over. There was an exchange of text messages this morning, and his was very harsh: basically he says that I’m crazy because I gave him mixed signals about my sexuality, which he hoped/believed to be wickedly reckless. He only wants to f/ck, he’s after inhumane sexual intercourse, and all the romanticism the other night was aimed at having a good f/ck with me. He’d kill me if he had to – he’s not the type of guy who cares. Not for me anyway.
It hurts. We did not even go all the way, but I feel used anyway.
He makes me puke. They all do. I hate them. I really do. Sick bastards.
Mr fitness instructor wanted to see me yesterday, he called me on the phone and contacted me on skype several times, which was very nice for me. We didn’t meet but we ended up having a very hot conversation on skype. So, unfortunately, by the end of the day I realized that all he was after was wild sex. For some reason he thought I’d be the perfect mate to make all his wildest sexual desires come true (and he is right, I could and would do that no problem). In fact I’m very wild myself and I like to push things to the limit – there have been times in the past that I have actually believed to be a sex addict. So in a way I could have been his perfect match. But I want more than that.
I want someone who cares for me. I want to be loved and cherished as the most precious jewel in someone else’s life.
So I dumped him (...after just one day). Oh dear… that was tough. His body is perfect, so very masculine and strong, his voice and manners are the sweetest. He likes cuddling a lot. Too good to be true.
I was under the impression that it was not me that he wanted, he was just craving for wild sex. Again: I would have loved to go all the way and do all the dirtiest and sexiest stuff one can possibly imagine – but I was not ready to face the aftermath. Once sex is over, I would have been left alone. And that hurts like hell, I’ve been there already. So, I gave up the chance to have sex with the most attractive stud I’ve ever met. I did this to protect myself. For once, I did at least try not to get hurt.
My (hopeless) hope is that he slows down, and comes back to me again, but this time to take me out on romantic and carefree dates, where we can have a good time together, have fun and laugh and just feel good in each other’s company. (like it was the other day actually, but his purpose must be to have a good time with me and not to get laid…). Should he be able to make me happy and to be happy with me, then I’d go all the way, and more!
I’m not settling for less than happiness.
So, goodbye sex for now. I’d rather be alone than treated like a soulless sexual tool.