I was sitting, telling them all a story that never happened… which now I can’t quite remember, which is the problem with lying when you get older.
Fundamentally, I’m sick of him being so selfish all the time. In bed. And I don’t know how to talk about it with him, which is really the problem. It’s a problem with me, and it’s a problem with him. I feel like he’s so insecure, remarkably inexperienced for his age, that anything that I say to him is just going to shatter what little confidence he has and he’s going to be even worse. I also feel like maybe, if I were to point that finger back toward me, that I’m having a hard time explaining myself, because I want everything to flow naturally, I want to be understood. <=== My ex said something like that to me once and it utterly pissed me off. It was just another reason for him not to have sex with me, I hope that man burns in hell and now I'm even more ashamed that I let that lie (it was a generalization, but the intent behind it was a lie) go in the fight last night. It was unforgiveable.
After running like a rat through a telephonic maze trying to figure out how to find a real person, to give me the assigned solution to my extremely human problem, I got up and figured that this was a wash. Then, I sat back down with a few sips of cold, milky coffee because I realized that I just don’t feel right, or ready to start my day, without this.
In part I wish I had woken up earlier, as I now don’t know if I have time to talk about my dreams, which were intense and telling. Another part tells me that I may not have had the dream if I had gotten up, as I can’t remember if it was a snooze button thing. If it was, it was worth the rush now, as I remember what happened, and I feel that it will stick with me even past the time that I remember why. Dreams are awesome like that.
I could spend years, I have, describing the acid that I feel etching my ribs when I think of this – I remember when my steaming pile of shit ex and I moved in, and he accused me of keeping things from him, not trusting him, not being open to a relationship, and basically being closed off and paranoid because I wouldn’t give him my bank account info and pool resources with him and “the household”. Like a dumbass 19 year old, I fell for it.
The boy is like that. He will cheat on me, even though he knows what he can and can’t do, because he is trying to prove that inane pedantic validity of one of stupid points that rides on nothing but a technicality. Wtf, you’d really put your dick on the line to prove a point? You’d put me on the line to prove a point? I’m fairly sure one day he will.
This exercise, today, and perhaps yesterday, is beginning to frustrate me a little bit. There’s never quite enough time to get into anything, but still it’s too big a chunk of time to take away from everything else, especially when there’s a lot of everything else. It’s giving me anxiety, the hot, slim sword pressed dangerously hard in the space between my sternum and my heart.
“You’re so wonderful, and talented, you shouldn’t let that talent go to waste. You have to write something. You’re going to look back on this and regret it if you don’t.”
I feel like this is how I would feel, perhaps, if the boy cheated on me. He is not ready for the relationship I want, though he wants to be, just like my college ex. I am unfair, making demands that I will not keep – from their perspective. In my mind, it’s different, but I seem to always be unable to fully explain why, because they do not understand.
I still delight in remembering that I have multiple exes now, I should really write my recent ex and thank him for that. I have no reason not to be honest