Story of my life

My therapist once told me that I have a tendency to involve myself with people who are “emotionally unavailable.” This means I am approached for relationships by men and women who make me feel amazing about myself for a few months, but forget me once they get to know me.

And I accept them, because they make me feel special at first.

This is the picture my ex-girlfriend posted on Facebook today:12509400_839537909501989_1779649393122104551_n

As it usually tends to happen when I am blindsided by things like sexting, talking to other women or men, talking about me behind my back, etc., my initial reaction was severe. I couldn’t hear anything, the blood rushed to my head, the vein in my forehead started pounding, and my heart started racing.

I called her, and asked her what was up with this picture.

“I’m sleeping,” she said.

“I don’t care,” I said. “What is up with that picture? Why do you have to go and post it for everyone to see? Is it that hard for you? Is it a problem for you that we’re doing this? We can call it off at any time. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

“Nothing was up with it,” she said. “I just said ‘current situation.’ I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’ll let you get to sleep,” I said.

“Okay,” she said. And I hung up the phone.

I’m considering just ending everything. We are basically a couple, except we don’t have the commitment of a title.

I drive her places. I buy her food. I take her on dates. I tell her she’s special.

But she doesn’t do any of that for me. She’s so conflicted, and confused, and I don’t understand why it is so hard to just be happy with what she has.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe she just doesn’t want to put in the effort to take care of the relationship she has because she constantly wants something better.

Maybe she will find someone better – someone that can satisfy her fully and finally. Maybe it isn’t me.

I’m writing so that I don’t do anything. If I don’t write, I do stupid things because I don’t understand fully. I shouldn’t have to write in order to discover what’s going on; I should be told what’s going on.

This is bullshit.

Everyone is telling me to end it, but she’s telling me she’s still trying to decide what to do. It’s been since the beginning of November. I’m getting tired. I cried so hard on Tuesday, and I told myself that if I cried two more times, I was done.

I’m not at the point where I’m going to cry, but if nothing changes, I’ll be there soon, and she’ll have one more chance.



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