The pursuit of ha-penis.

Of late I have become that guy. You know, that guy? Yeah, that guy. A loveless tragedy that’s one heartbreak away from collecting cats. The one who somehow manages to hurl himself at the wrong blokes during the worst times. Chasing the guy that is just out of a relationship and thus will feed me any lie I want to hear as long he can get some fun. Or perhaps the other guy , the one that is so dented emotionally he’s happy to abuse my charity and caring nature until someone better comes along, be that in a few weeks or later that night. And the worst, the plastics. Beware of the plastics.  The scene gays that act as though they are donating to a charity by bestowing a modicum of attention upon me. All the wrong guys, in the wrong places, at the wrong times.

And of course the illusive attractive males that appear once every full moon on Snapchat to bathe you in compliments then quickly ask for nudes. I am not a fucking vending machine! You cannot press my buttons and hope my cock pops out. I miss the simplicity of the days when I was only ‘bi-curious.’ Days when speaking to a guy over MSN or Bebo was about as deep as your romantic connection got. Days when the only thing you got was his Bebo love and not heartache and STD fear. Oh, how I miss expressing my teen angst via my MSN name.

Having a wee bitch about the above is all very well, but in that moment, especially if you’re a loveless dumpster like me, someone giving me attention is really quite hard for me to steer myself away from. One of the guys I had a thing with lately I quite liked back in 2014 and he’d given me the run around then. I say quite liked, but I feel that’s playing it down. I have the extraordinary ability to fall for someone within 0.2 milliseconds of meeting them. Rare though this is, it does still happen. My hard thuds like a young teen that’s just met the first ‘love of their life.’ I digress.  Our recent encounter – let’s call it that encase family members are reading this, I highly doubt they want graphic details about my sexual encounters – played out the most clichéd of all plotlines. Cute cuddles at first, kisses, drunken snaps full of gleeful squeals of excitement, before eventually ending up in bed together (and if you can’t work out the rest then you probably shouldn’t be reading this blog.)

Fast forward to a few days later and all I have are flashbacks and remnants of our drunken love affair, and a few cute photos that I’ve still not deleted because I am a colossal sap when it comes to guys. And since then I’ve heard barely a whisper from him. I now know it was little more than a one night stand and in my haste to meet someone and feel a connection, I allowed myself to be swept up in a flurry of drunken romance and seduced by blonde hair and one-liners.

Since moving into the city centre I have met a lot more guys on nights out, I’ve not taken them all back home with me, I’m not that bad, but getting attention from a guy on a night out has slowly but surely become a key factor in me ‘having a good night.’ I think this is an absolutely deplorable mind set to have become trapped in, and I’ve criticized friends in the past for doing what I am doing now. So it needs to stop and it will. I will take control of this situation and any situation I may find myself in. I won’t stop myself from meeting guys or enjoying my life, but I will make sure I am in the driver’s seat. I will not let anyone make me feel as though they are doing me a favour by being with me, because they aren’t. I’m a unicorn, a fucking miracle. A needle in a massive haystack and if someone I like doesn’t see that, then that’s just the way it is. Holding onto toxic relationships is what stops us growing.


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