Eat Your Cake and Shut Up

Another void where love was, hearkening back to an old blog post about a Ghost. This time: reality check.

The post was about dealing with the ghost of a past lover. This time, it wasn’t really love…yet, but it seemed to have all the frills.

Here I went, again, letting myself get all twisted up in it with a guy who reminded me of the my old beloved, and fittingly, this time it ended badly, too. Do these two men really have to have the same voice, the same body, the same boots? Is it some kind of cosmic torture designed especially for me? It begs the question, how do you tell the difference between the Doppelganger of the beloved and the beloved himself; or is this new man, the Doppelganger, just a shadow of the ghost of the beloved? The ghost who you’ve been living with all these years, anyway. How do you describe how you feel after you’ve played with this new Shadow and gotten burned all over again?

Result: Me: a twisted up, fucking, stupid, fucked up head case. I’m always too hard on myself but why, oh why, do I have sex with the ones who I know will screw me over?

What happened to dating? Well, it was going well. Me, the star in the middle. One guy I was falling for and suddenly got intimate with, one guy who had fallen for me in the past who I could keep rejecting but still have benefits with, one guy to continue to date so casually that it just felt like a two person literary meet-up, and the guy who’s practically my best friend, who’s always been there in the background, waiting for me to come to my senses, apparently, and marry him.

Confusing? Yes, sometimes, but an immense self-esteem builder to have so many kettles on at once. (I’m putting aside any analysis for now of the effects of my actions on others; god knows I’m aware enough of that.) And no time really to keep up the dating schedule. Once again, I failed.

And then I got screwed. I liked the fucking. New fucking can be very exciting. But when it comes to my head, I’ll pass. I started to get attached, then he tells me he needs to take his “Solo Path.”

Translation: I want to have my cake and eat it too; and I want your cake as well.

Second translation: I want you to give to me as if you are my girlfriend but I don’t want to give up my freedom. I don’t want a commitment; therefore, I refuse to behave as your boyfriend.

Another skeleton to pack away into the attic. Scarlett O’Casual hurt, licking her wounds, but determined to move on. No more tangles with manipulation. And no more sex before some sort of idea that a relationship might actually work out.  Am I really going to do this? Well, maybe at least I can just be a little wiser in the future.