I feel like shit today. I know why, and I’m a little nervous but whatever.

I have so much that I have to do. I don’t feel like I’m ready to “get back out there” as it were – dragging myself through city after city, putting on my best charm and ignoring everything I really think, or feel. But I have proven to myself, since the November before last when I met the boy, and the 5 years before that with the boyfriend that I so unceremoniously dumped (I don’t know how normal people even do breakups? Basically bye, it’s been fun but we’re done is the best I can muster), that swallowing yourself gulp by gulp is the way normal people deal with reality anyway. I should be grateful that I’m getting paid for it.

The boy is an asshole. He thinks he understands, but he doesn’t. All my clients, who have their own shamwives and shamlives that they use me to hide from, they understand, but they lack the balls to live their truths, unless it’s vicariously through me. They deserve to pay for their cowardice. But the boy doesn’t deserve to get it for free.

I’m sick. I know he wants to see me and take care of me, but he won’t take care of me. I’ll still just show up at his house, where I’ll have to make my own drinks, cook my own food, and blow him. He slapped my ass after I got a spinal tap, totally unaware of that pain. And I choked back my reflexes to flinch, cringe and cry. Why? What the fuck is wrong with him, and me? And why do people feel possessed to be with other people, when everyone obviously sucks?

So, I’m not going to see him, even though I know I’ll regret it. But why? Last night, he told me to ask myself why. That’s a dangerous question, and usually I’m not scared of the answer. However, I get the feeling that I’m also not being honest with myself. He told me to ask myself why, but about something else, of course.

My immediate reflex is to say enough about him, and move on and inevitably circle back. But why do I circle back?

I just wanted a real life but people like me don’t get to have those.

What I didn’t acknowledge is that no one gets to have a real life. Or maybe I just tell myself that so I don’t get jealous.

Of course he doesn’t want me asking myself why I’m with him. He’s got a remarkably low self image for someone so tall, successful, good looking and white. Like anyone gives a fuck how we feel about ourselves anyway. I think he knows that there is actually no reason. I think he knows the truth, that he was a random swipe on tinder, and I’m the kind of psycho who will take that random chance and weave an entire reality around it, because I love storytelling, stagecraft, and all that good stuff. I’m a sucker for a good tragedy. Like him.

But he fails to play along with that. I know that he’s one of those dudes that swipes right on everything, he’ll stick his dick in anything and then do nothing about it but criticize their poor choice. That kind of self loathing must suck, and I will tell you that it sucks to be around.

So, why am I with him? Should I just accept that there is no good reason, wipe the dirt of my shoulder and walk on? My instinct says yes, however since I do keep circling back, I’m going to have to eventually speak to myself about why.

There’s plenty of coffee.

Or, I could just find another random dude to sleep with, which, being honest with myself, is what I’m going to do. I actually just opened up Hinge, and walked around. No one is as interesting as the boy, but I know I’m only telling myself that because I don’t want to put in the effort into another fake relationship.

I know what I should do – just pour myself into work until he gets mad that I’m ignoring him and he goes away. He’ll blame it on work, rather than be honest with himself that he has utterly failed to deliver as a man. That’s the problem with being <insert any fucking adjective that describes me in their eyes> – I’m always the scapegoat, just a pile of insurmountable problems that in they end, they can’t handle, and will eventually be the end of our relationship, rather than the fact that they do absolutely nothing to make me give a fuck what they think about <whichever one of the myriad of issues I present for them>

What is he to me, other than just something to complain about other than myself? Long pause. I can definitely see that he was a decision that I made during deep depression, as most of my decisions regarding relationships are. I wonder what most other people are doing… probably the same. Is that why they all look so miserable?

This post is dry, whiny and boring. I don’t want to be like that. I am not like that. I am great. And so today, albeit slowly because I feel like shit, I will trim up My (capitalized, because I was visualizing something) hair, dye my hair, put on a face mask, pack a suitcase, book some tickets, and go.

Fuck this dude, he doesn’t even eat pussy.

He’s probably gay.