Wanted: Professional Help (part II)Posted: July 30, 2016
The thing is, that it’s all so horribly unbalanced. He texts me any time he wants and I respond immediately and talk for as long as he wants to. If I text him and he doesn’t feel like talking, he just doesn’t reply.
He won’t make plans with me in advance (or he will, and then cancel), but he thinks he should be able to tell me to come over any time and I will (I don’t, because I’m usually busy by the time he gets around to asking, but then I spend hours wishing I was wherever he is).
I have been going through a very unhappy period. Everything has felt wrong. I don’t want to wake up, I don’t want to go to work, and I don’t want to stay home either. I don’t want to find another job. I don’t want to socialize. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be me. That is what it felt like.
And then…we hooked up again. At work. He fingered me against a wall and we kissed and then he lifted me onto the counter and kissed me again.
And the next morning I wanted to get out of bed. I wanted to see him. I told myself over and over again that it was just going to hurt, that this changed nothing. I begged myself to see reason–asking myself over and over, “Have you not cried ENOUGH???”
I have. I have cried enough. So what the holy fucking hell is wrong with me?
Why did I let him take me home and cum in my mouth? Why did I not tell him to fuck off and never talk to me again, when he refused to cuddle with me after because he broke his phone and it was more important to go get his phone repaired THAT INSTANT than to take ten minutes to at least pretend that I hadn’t just been horribly used?
Why am I waiting around for him to tell me if he wants to see me this weekend? So that maybe THIS time he’ll hold me, which is all I actually want?
There is something in me that is fundamentally broken. This is all just proof that I should stay away from broken people. I already have healthy relationships, and something inside me still wants this sick, twisted thing.
I don’t get it.
I save the selfies he sends me and email them to myself so no one finds them on my phone. When he’s being particularly shitty I have awful fantasies about telling his girlfriend about us. I never will, because I don’t have it in me, but it makes me feel better to pretend I have even a modicum of control.
And yet I have been here before. Where it’s all wrong and it hurts too much and I should just run as fast as I can in the other direction, but I don’t until I’m literally so fractured and bruised that I couldn’t continue even if I wanted to.
But why is he so good to me sometimes, and so bad to me others? Why is he so hot and cold? How he can make me feel so precious and yet so utterly irrelevant–even as a friend?
Why can’t I just be the one to push him away, for once?