the end of the love life musings.

This is the first time in my love life where things don't make sense. I can't rely on the information I know, my experiences to guide me, other people's opinions to illuminate things. Everything I think I know turns out to be total bullshit. I can't decide if it's a matter of finding out the truth or trusting myself above all. I guess in a way it's a little bit of both, because even if people present me with what's true for them, I don't allow it to undo me, because I can't.

Unnecessary accessory boy has been randomly texting me plaintively for the last couple weeks. And I decided I'm done with him. He is bad news. He has nothing but a vein of the purest misogynistic anger that I have ever encountered. Yet, his presence in my life left its mark. I think of him often, I feel confused about why it went so wrong. I know that I did my thing that I do in relationships, but it was met with resolute anger and a wall of meanness. And I will not go out with someone who's a contrary bastard. I did that for three and a half years and it left me empty, I have no more fight left. All I can do is whimper and shut down in the face of that.

So I randomly texted him my reason for not responding. His missives (eight or nine) followed quickly, one after the other, at first neutral, then filled with some of the most vile things, attacking me on many levels. I read them, I still have them on my phone, but I know myself, his opinion of how it went simply isn't true. His idea of being in a relationship is having all the control, and he does that through manipulation and truth bending. He even denied sending me any texts.

With the Man of the Year, my intuition began to falter in the last few days because I'd communicated with him in various ways and had not gotten a response. Maybe there was simply nothing for him to say, but the agony I felt over the last few days just makes me wonder. Do I want to be with someone who can't be bothered to give me a simple response? Just as I began to give up on him, with the full bag of tears, frustration, inability to concentrate on anything else, he texted me back. He had no apologies, no promises, but there was a depth there that implied we'd gone beyond pleasantries. I even wondered if he'd been drinking.

Once you've gone to the brink of despair about a man, it's very difficult to turn back and act like nothing's wrong. And that's what I do in relationships. I get all about them, and then I go into despair, and then the chance of having a proper relationship based on trust is gone. I hold them to a high standard, if I give you something, it ought to be acknowledged. Maybe even reciprocated somehow. I have gotten better at not lashing out if this doesn't happen. People are who they are. They're not like me. I have a wellspring of words to give. When I put my bet down and roll the dice, my optimism fades. I gamble like it's the only chance I've got.

I figure over the last three months with the man of the year, I've made a lot of progress. I have despaired, but then returned, not stiffly, not with anger, but with understanding and love. I've done other things I need to do. I know it's not about me, whereas in other relationships, it was always my fault that they couldn't love me enough. Even though I have one foot out the door, ready to bolt at the slightest shadow, I have waited for him.

I'm tired of struggling over my relationships with boys. I feel the urge to give up, focus all my energies into grad school and the next year and just be happy in my own life, with myself. Every time I resolve to do this, they return, in small ways or big ways, and I am distracted by the possibility that this time it might be the message I was waiting for. Instead it always disappoints. And I must do the work of retracing my steps and returning to what's important.

The good news is, I take fewer steps back each time.