My love life is, for sure, a tragedy. It’s a combination of self
sabotage, picking horribly, and bad timing. It’s a complete clusterfuck,
and to be honest my love life has been nothing but a clusterfuck from
my very first date. I thought it was something that would improve with
time and age, and in a way it has, but definitely not too much.
For the past six years I have been single. Yes. Six. Fucking. Years.
Shoot me. I’m not even sure what happened and how time escaped me the
way that it did. Somehow six years went by where I had not been intimate
with a man. That seems absolutely insane. That’s something you hear and
expect the end of the story to wind up with the girl becoming a nun.
That is definitely not my story. My story involves hectic work
schedules, over stressed, financial ruin, major setbacks, major bouts of
depression, deaths in the family, more depression, blah, blah, blah. It
was never ending. I barely had time for human contact because
everything left me so exhausted. Whenever I did get the opportunity to
become attracted to someone something would come around to cock block
me. It was either the timing was off. He had a girlfriend, or fresh out
of a relationship, or I was in the middle of making a major life change
like moving back home from Chicago, or he just simply turned out to be a
douchebag. I actually had a lot of the last one. Meets guy. Guy says
all the right things. I start to get all googly eyed for said guy. Guy
finally exposes that he’s a huge pig that only cares about sex, doesn’t
give a flying fuck about me as a person it’s just all “Whoooo let me see
them tiddies!!” Ugh. Sometimes I just had to step back. It shook my
faith in love knowing that some men didn’t want all of me, but only what
they thought I could offer sexually. In the past I’d sometimes allow
that to be my relationship fate. Perhaps if I oblige then things could
go further, but a man only interested in your body can never flip a
switch and suddenly become attracted to your personality. So many fucks I
can’t take back. So many that I’m ashamed that I don’t want to take
back even if I could.
Being a single Libra is quite
frustrating, especially for me now at 34. In my 20s it wasn’t TOO bad.
There were days I still wanted to curl up next to someone after a long
day at work, or cook for, to make you laugh, and all things cutesy, but
20 something me didn’t mind it as much to be alone. Now I’m at an age
where times call for settling down. The only problem is that most men my
age aren’t getting the same calling. It’s nothing but games, my
favorite “I’m not ready for a relationship, but don’t leave me!”, “waste
her time 2017″ this, or “if she doesn’t do xyz then leave her” that.
Everybody wants to act like they’re in their late teens and don’t want
to grow up and build something with another person. Being a sign that
represents partnership is hard in this day and age and dealing with men
like this. You start to mistake his lust for genuine affection. I get
excited over little things when I get a bit of attention.When my phone
lights up with a notification from then current object of my affection, I
light up even more, but for no reason at all because in the end I
always end up disappointed.You start to make excuses. “He said he’s not
ready for a relationship, but we have a good time so maybe I’ll just
stick it out.” Sis! He’s just lonely and you fill the void for the time
being and you’re a good fuck! I never listen to myself. I think things
will work in my favor knowing he’s already informed me where his
intentions lie. Still I hope somewhere down the line feelings will
change and I just end up with my feelings hurt and all of this effort
put into a person I had no future with while I could’ve been focusing
elsewhere.
When I look at my love life now, or lack
thereof, I turn on myself. Maybe I’m not loveable. Maybe love isn’t in
the cards for me. Maybe I’m put here on this Earth for something else.
Maybe it’s that no one I’m attracted to wants me. Then I turn into
myself a little more. Then I think every man I talk to just wants
something from me, because there’s no way he actually wants me for me.
I’m always waiting for a game to be played. That’s my self sabotage. I
know deep down those things aren’t true, but on the surface that’s every
feeling that flows through me. I’m not meant to be loved, but that’s
what I want more than anything. So I play the game, waste my time, sulk
when it’s over, and repeat.
I don’t know when this
clusterfuck will end. It seems to drag on longer and longer. Every time I
think I’ve found a good one it turns out very bad. I guess this
loneliness will last just a wee bit longer no matter how much I hate it.
I’m watching everyone around me grow, get married, have kids, and I’m
still stuck at square one and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
So trials and error, and error, and more errors. Hopefully this isn’t my
life for another six years. I try to convince myself that this has to
happen in order for me to find my soul mate, but that still doesn’t cure
the loneliness of now. I know when it comes down to it waiting is best.
It does pay to be picky because I can weed my way through the bullshit,
including my own. Still, just still, it would be nice to be wanted. It
would be nice to be loved even if temporary.
-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2017©
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