Lucky in love – three words that have never been applicable to my life. A series a car crash relationships and a plethora of bad choices are the foundation of my romantic history. Years withered away attempting to give my heart to guys that simply stomped on it relentlessly and recent events aren’t forecasting much hope for improvement.
This weekend I yet again thought I’d met someone. A guy I’ve seen via snaps and social media and always thought he was gorgeous. So imagine my delight when we met in person by chance and then got on extremely well. Giddy at the prospect of possibilities I allowed myself to day dream and dwell; my mind flooded with images of what could be. Another fucking rookie error on my part; it seems in my desperation to be loved by someone I allowed myself to get carried away, which makes the inevitable let down even worse. Also makes me seem rather unhinged. Am I always going to be the guy that is just used? Spoken to or slept with whenever it suits someone. A cold comfort during a guy’s period of romantic disarray? That’s what it feels like; continuously caught up with someone whose love life is in a tangle. As such I’ve become a victim of circumstance.
I’m never going to find someone. I hurl myself at disasters and then whine and wonder why I always end up hurt. My utter lack of respect for myself fuels this urge, this cancer, in me. This want to be loved and told that I am not a worthless, ugly mutant. Because that is genuinely how I feel all the time. Every unfortunate encounter with a mirror or reflective surface dents my ego. I cling to every stolen glance and ounce of attention I’m given because during this perpetual love draught I don’t know when I’ll get another drop. To the point that recently I was sexually assaulted, simply because I took the wrong guy home. Woken up to him having sex with me, without consent. Alcohol fuelled hook-ups aren’t working for me, but it seems the only way I can get attention from someone. No one wants this sober.
I deplore my looks. My hair never sits right; I hate my eyes, my teeth, my body. I constantly wrestle with my former eating disorder; battling body dysmorphia, convincing myself I am not overweight or fat has become part of my daily routine. It’s exhausting carrying around this much self-loathing. When will this fucking horrorshow end? Because right now my life is Stephen King short story collection that is being adapted into real life events.
What is it going to take in order for me to grab the attention of someone that is worthy of my time? Swinging around naked on a wrecking ball with the wind whistling through my hair, will that do it? Everyone is so self-involved that they don’t truly take other people’s feelings into consideration. The majority of the global population is too busy taking selfies to donate any thought to how their actions may hurt other people.
I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships, even a rough one where the guy use to get drunk and hit me a lot. He convinced me that it was my fault; he’d use me for weeks on end and then ignore for me months more. After that I met someone who couldn’t admit what he wanted, he was too scared too. I spent so long waiting for something that would never happen. Years whittled away. I’m due something decent, I cannot be that unlovable surely? Perhaps it simply boils down to my taste in men. I can never tell if someone’s attractive in a loserish way, or that they simply a loser. Investing time in the wrong places; maybe that’s the first issue I should attempt to tackle. After all that I’ve been through with guys, is it any wonder I have low self-esteem? No one could ever hate me as much as I hate myself sometimes. Any mean thing someone has to say about me I can assure you I’ve already said it about myself, to myself, and probably in the last 24 hours too.
My issue is I’m attracted to everyone when I first meet them. And then it slowly but surely wears off. It always wears off. I don’t even want a boyfriend, not really anyway. I just want someone to hang out with all the time and thinks I’m the best person in the world and only wants to have sex with me. Someone that is compatible and supports me creatively. Other guys seem so together, so focused and confident. I can see the appeal; I understand why they are picked over me. My love life just feels like I’m back in gym class at high school; always picked last. Part of the dregs of the gay community. What makes me worth dating? What makes me worth fucking anything? This isn’t a particularly positive entry, but I needed to get this off my chest.