I am the human equivalent of a wet wipe in that I am often flushed away when people are done with me.
Am I being harsh on myself. Perhaps but I think I have just cause to think this.
Finding love is not a sure thing for me given my sexuality. Please click on the ‘demisexual’ tag to the right of this blog for more details. Plug plug…
So when I do find it, my feelings overwhelm me. Which is fair enough I suppose given that I don’t have many opportunities to be in love.
Ages ago I met someone. They said they loved me but then decided that they didn’t. A little while later they slipped back into my life like a thief creeping into a beartrap.
And I was alright with that. I decided to play it cool. To be aloof and not a doof like last time.
I allowed this person to make all the moves. I did not start anything romantic but just allowed anything romantic if it happened to happen.
Twice she said that she wished I was with her. Actually it may have been three times. I never said I wished she was with me…not because I didn’t want that but because it would have been better to be where she was. Aesthetically better I mean. She also said that she really liked me. I returned the words because I meant them.
Because I was playing it straight from the fridge, I didn’t text or talk to her a lot. I tried to allow her to make any move she wanted to make.
Then I said that I was crazy about her and overnight it seemed as if a solid steel curtain slammed down between us. She didn’t feel the same way. Which was alright, I thought. Like I said, I was playing it cool. Just call me Joe Cool or The Fonz…erm, don’t call me the Fonz. Or Joe Cool. Those were random pop culture icons I added for fun. Um.
I didn’t know what to do. So I did the best thing. I did nothing. Either it would work out and she would realise what a great guy I was or she would decide that I was just a fool. She isn’t delusional so I figured she would plump for the latter.
Most of my relationships have ended with the other person rejecting me because of distance, age, husband objecting to affair, alien invasion, Donald Trump or plague of rat (just the one rat but it was reeeely big!). But what they all come down to was rejection (except for the rat one, that ended up with her catching the black death) or rather me. I am the common denominator is each of those relationships so therefore the fault is with me.
I am the wet wipe of relationships as well apparently. I am good enough for a while but ultimately I will be flushed.
This is because I am not worth it. People find me wanting because they see that I am just not worth the effort of loving. I don’t deserved to be loved.
It can’t be that I am a bad person. I try to be good. I try to be compassionate. I endeavour to be myself as well as someone who is worthy of love. But no, never, not for me. It is my fate to be alone.
I am alright with the fact that I probably won’t have children. And I am alright with the fact that nobody will ever love me. Really. Both things are hard but it is alright. Ish.
Maybe I am a bad person. This is also why I don’t tend to have many friends. They can clearly see that there is something wrong with me. I am a modern pariah, a leper, an outcast from society…maybe not quite the last one but it feels like that. I think that people see me and shout, “Leper! Unclean!” when they see me or talk to me.
Maybe I am meant to be alone, in love and friendship, because people can see what a nasty horrible person I am. It is something I deserve for reasons I can’t fathom. I am worthless. I must be.
It is any wonder that I wrote of death and suicide so much?