She’s fascinated me for years. I usually get an idea of people’s motivations and goals pretty easily, but she was always a mystery. She’d do self-destructive things for seemingly no reason, put relationships that were meaningful to her in jeopardy when she didn’t have to and was smart enough to know she shouldn’t. I always put it down to the abuse she went through when she was younger screwing her up (which is very true) but now I understand her motivation. Let me add here that I’m in no way qualified to diagnose anyone with anything, and this post is just be expressing some kind of dark “eureka!” moment that’s been three-plus years in the making.
She’s an adrenaline junkie.
The Girl That I Like told me she was an adrenaline junkie a couple of months ago and again a couple of days ago, but it’s only now that it’s clicked that that’s why she does everything. Why she compulsively cheats on every relationship she’s ever had, with people I know she loves and would rather die than lose. Why she lies habitually and unnecessarily, even telling stories that paint her and those she cares about in a very dark light. Why she steals pettily. All because it gives her a thrill she can’t get any other way, a thrill she can never get by being good or doing the right thing.
She’s young and I shudder to think where this is going to go once the cheap thrills of being naughty wear off.. She currently seeing a mental health team regarding her depression and anger issues, and I hope they get her the help she needs.
The Girl That I Like. I called her again, after months. We chatted for ages again. I visited again.
We’ve always been flirty but today we definitely went several steps beyond anything that can ever be called innocent flirting. She asked me to guess her bra size post-baby, and bared them for a squeeze. I squeezed. I guessed. I was way off, but I don’t think she minded.
Then she showed me explicit pictures from a sex tape she made the other day so I could see her pieced clit (which, not gonna lie, looked pretty awesome. Always go vertical, they almost look classy)
It’s so fucking weird. I want her so badly and I know she’s attracted to me too (not that that’s saying too much -her list of conquest is stuff of legend), but I don’t want to ruin our friendship and I don’t think she wants to, either. She’s the only one who makes me feel amazing just to be around.
Just want to brag about it, really. I woke up at 6 on my first day off in over 2 weeks (long story for another time), lay there for ages trying to fall back to sleep, gave up and had a wank to work off the morning wood then eventually fell back to sleep until 10. In that time I had my most vivid sex dream I’ve had in a very, very long time.
I was in some palace, everyone was dressed like Disney princesses and there were several famous actresses there – including Jewel Staite and Erica Durance and I got freaky with them all in wonderful comfy beds that were in every room. I don’t recall who the rest were now but I know I counted six girls I made out with, stripped, went down on until they came and whose asses I tongued (yep, I’m into that and since this blog is anon, you get to know. Yay.)
The whole thing felt so carefree and fun. I’m not sure I actually stuck my dick in anyone, but kissing, undressing and going down on beautiful women, one after another after another was amazing. Everyone was giggling and laughing and giving themselves freely and lovingly. It was amazing and I woke up happy. I wish I could have that dream every night. Sex dreams are extremely rare for me.
Now I just need some sex IRL.
She was troubled. She came from abuse and did things in her life that she regretted deeply and hates herself for. She was an habitual liar, likely as a result of covering for horrible things since she was very young. She went from calling and texting every day to giving no fucks at all with nothing in between, presumably because she’d found someone else she found more exciting.
But she was also the most fun and exciting person I’ve ever known. She had an amazing sense of humour. She felt everything so intensely, whether good or bad there were no buffers, nothing she held back. When she was happy she was positively blissful, her joy was the most pure I’d ever known from anyone. The closest I could describe it was like an excited puppy.
Of course, that meant her downers were just as severe – countless suicide attempts, self harm, drug addictions etc.
She was someone I could tell anything to without judgement, and who told me (but also pretty much anyone who asked) anything at all and knew I wouldn’t judge. She knows more about me than anyone in this world except my ex, and I probably am in the top 3 or 5 for knowing all there is about her.
When she stopped calling or replying to my texts, I was torn. How can you tell when someone’s pushing you away because they’re lost in their own tornado of depression versus when they’re genuinely no longer interested in being your friend? I told myself that if it was the former and something happened, I’d never forgive myself. So I kept worrying about her and texting and once in a while got a reply, many hours alter. I got to speak to her for a grand total of 2 minutes and twenty seconds on the phone the other day, in which she told me everything’s going great and that she’d gotten some great news weeks before (but didn’t bother to share with me), then made a fishy-sounding excuse and went.
But still, I love her very much and wish her all the best. She makes everyone else seem boring in comparison. I just need to accept she doesn’t want to be friends anymore and move on. And that hurts so much it’s unreal.
I feel so empty. I miss being in a relationship, of that knowledge that someone loves me and the strength it gives. I miss sneaking up on someone in the kitchen, wrapping my arms around them and kissing them lovingly on the neck. Feeling their breasts and running my hands down to their hips as they melt into my arms.
If you’ve got that feeling right now, hold on to it. Don’t give it up for anything in the world. All the drunk makeouts and meaningless sex (and I’d kill for even meaningless sex right now) in the world is nothing compared to it.
So the Girl I Love But Can Never Be With has been acting erratically. She told me about a miscarriage. She told me about a lowkey pill popping suicide attempt she made recently which she passed off as a badly upset stomach and swore me to secrecy. She told me about major problems with her man cheating on her and huge fights they’ve had. She told me she might lose custody of her child as a result.
So I text her later that day to make sure she’s okay, and I hear nothing back. I’m worried sick, I text again the day after saying “please text back when you can so I know you and your baby are okay” and again hear nothing.
This morning she was active on Facebook. She’s just ignoring me.
I think she’s just fucking with my head. That she’s gotten bored of me and gone on to some other guy who’s now getting all her attention. That’s what my gut is screaming, and what is screamed before we blew up and didn’t speak for two years.
I’m writing this in case we gets back in contact and spins some blatant bullshit that I gladly gobble up because I’m weak and want her to love me. I want to remember this feeling next time it happens. I’ve written but deleted several “Never mind, saw you active on Facebook you were just ignoring your friend who was worrying about you” texts. I’m just going to leave it. I’m done reaching out, and if I never hear from her again, that’s that.
We had some good memories and really fun times, and I wish her all the best because – with what I know about her and her situation that I know isn’t bullshit – she’s going to need it, especially if she surrounds herself with men and women who use her for sex, ply her with drugs and give no fucks whether she lives or dies like she used to.
Actually, scrap that. I wish her child all the best, because he’s the one who’s really going to need it.
EDIT: Sent that text the next day. She told me she’s pushed everyone away and needs space while she processes all the shit that she’s going through. I’m stepping back and giving her space – while getting myself used to the idea I’ll not hear from her again.
Today is one year since I was with my ex. One year since we made love.
I barely remember our parting at the airport and I hate myself for that, except that it wasn’t as emotional as our previous goodbyes. I remember thinking I wouldn’t be back after the fighting we’d done.
She did more for me than anyone. She loved me so much. I hate myself for falling out of love with her. I hate myself for not being strong enough to deal with her problems and I hate myself for having feelings for someone else while I was hers.
You’ll never read this, but I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re doing better than me. I’m so sorry for hurting you.