Crazy Pants in a Tennis Skirt

 I invite him to dinner at 5 AM

5:01 AM

It has nothing to do with him in particular, but everything to do with my own personal patterns of self-destruction.
See, what happens is as soon as I lock eyes on a target, the wheels start churning and before I know it, I have a fantasy him fashioned in my head who is amazing to me and loves me very much and he and I go through all of the rigmarole of deciding if its love or not, all in my mind, and when he is mentally weighed and measured to be worth my ever loving soul, then I throw myself at the real version of the man, no brakes, full throttle. I make his life the best worst nightmare he ever had. I do everything he could ever want, be anyone that he needs. But see, the real man, he didn’t choose me, the fantasy man did. So when the real man finds whatever chick he ACTUALLY loves, nothing that I have ever done to prove my love matters, overnight. He wanted her, so he goes after her, just like I went after him. I can’t be mad not really, he didn’t want me, I was just, well…. ready, willing and able.

In many ways this has not worked out for me, clearly I am still single and continuing this process with someone new which is why I am so confused… although I keep trying to catch myself, until the actual him says anything even remotely as wonderful as my fantasy him has already done, months ago.

But if I hadn’t been this way, if I hadn’t locked onto these men that I wanted so desperately like a laser, I’d never have my cool tattoos, I wouldn’t have my son, I’d have never traveled the globe and I wouldn’t have written 6 books so far.

I keep trying to leave this new beautiful complicated intelligent man alone so that I don’t hurt myself like that again. I genuinely do want him to have all of the room that he needs to breathe. I want him to want to talk to me and see me and whatever else because he wants to, not because I am trying to manipulate him into it. But what isn’t a manipulation? Why am I mad at myself for doing what a rose does to a human’s senses?

I don’t want to go on dates anymore, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else, it’s such a waste of time for me, I’ve found my new him. But maybe I should go, just so that I don’t lock onto him so hard that he pulls away- and sure, it might lead me to my next great adventure but I just want to be sure that there isn’t another way, that if I just wasn’t different, maybe it would work. At the same time though, what I really would like to have happen is that the person that I pick, just simply fucking be the person who picks me back…. Just one time is all I need.

Maybe its too late for me, maybe I can’t grow, maybe I don’t know what to do now and maybe being someone else entirely isn’t growth at all and I just should pick a damn dull ass doomed dude that’s happy with my crazy.

Le sigh.

Ultimately, I want this man that I am madly obsessed with to choose me. I want you to choose me, jerk. But I don’t want to tell you to choose me, or go over the top doing shit for you so that you will choose me because it’s simply convenient for you to do so.  I’m worthy of love,  the real kind, I deserve it and when I am into the person, I’m really fucking good at the loving thing, you can ask around about that part.

I’m struggling, per normal, about what path to pursue. Which me is the best me to be? Either I stop all together, to try a different style and “hope” or I demonstrate for him, the same way that I have in the past, why I am the most amazing woman on the fucking planet, and still sit back and…..“hope”. Or maybe I should just stop being in love, at least with people that I have to tap dance for, in the first place. Who knows….. Maybe I’m just ugly.

2 PM he responds.
He can’t make dinner tonight.

He has other “tentative” plans that he would -rather- not- break- even- though- they -are- fucking-ONLY- FUCKING -tentative…. especially when you(I)YOU asked him at 5 damn AM TODAY.

2:01 PM

Fuck him. *Sobs*

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