Let me give you a little background so you can see how I ended up here. I’m damaged. I’m damaged from my past relationships. I find frogs and I try to make them princes. Life isn’t a fairy tale y’all, and frogs don’t become princes. Take these words to heart please. Real talk here.
I had an alcoholic first love. I also once intensely loved a bipolar man who actually gave me PTSD. That was the Vietnam of relationships. Seriously. Broke. My. Heart. I even got a tattoo of a steel heart (over my actual heart) with a lock on it and blood pouring out of the bottom that says in Latin, “Nunquam Iterum”. That means “Never Again”. I was single for THREE years after that. I had FWB and that’s it. I left them before the sun came up and I never looked back. They held my purse for me and cried themselves to sleep at night. I had no feelings, I just had dick. That one changed me as a person. I do have to say though, I told them they were a piece of ass from the start. They chose to not believe me.
Then I fell in love with someone driven and clean-cut with no tattoos. He’s not a drummer in a rock band. He didn’t drink. He had a great job and owned his own home. He was so driven. He was the opposite of everyone I had fallen for (in my head). I was excited for this one. He loved me without regard and he would never leave! I could let crazy train leave the station and he would just say, “all aboard”.
I fall for driven men. Men that need me to help fix them. He had…drum roll please… mild aspbergers. For fuck’s sake. His lack of emotion and drama was just who he was. He wasn’t accepting my dramatic self, he was oblivious to it. He maintained a normal sex life etc for a period of three years. Then he had a new obsession, and it wasn’t me. After 6.5 years together (we even lived together for 4 of those) he broke up with me over the phone. I haven’t seen him since. He had prioritized everyone and everything else for about 3 years prior to that. I believe in love, so I stuck around long after I should have.
In short, I fall for super driven people who work hard just to find out that I will never be a priority. I’m a “cool girl”. I don’t say shit I just live my life… right out of theirs. The alcoholic tried to get a business off the ground (perfectionist and it never happened), the bipolar so driven (it was mania) and the aspbergers (this is what I want to be and I’m doing nothing but that).
Let me tell you something, they always come back. My first love, the alcoholic, sent me a message via Facebook (no we aren’t friends he had to find me) three weeks ago to tell me that me leaving him made him a better person. To quote a meme, “you can fuck off with that shit. You can fuck straight off to fuck off mountain while riding your fuck horse to the land of aww hell no”. He said it destroyed him and made him do right by the next one. Listen, Dick, you should have done it right by now. I could have had your babies and lived in your house with the picket fence.
The second one, Mr. Bipolar, has somehow managed to stay in a relationship longer than me. He has a girl who will stick by him until the end. She’s kicked him out possibly three to ten times but hey, he has someone. He just likes to call me every so often to make veiled threats. But he comes back… I don’t want to be his girl, but dammit he’s happy and I’m not and it pisses me off.
The last one, it’s too new, and hey maybe I will hear from him when I’m 60 about how I made him a better person for whomever his next relationship is.
Fuck me… #starterwife