Tonight especially, I wonder about that statement, ‘
history often repeats itself.’ Perhaps it’s because Sundays are lazy and inevitably about allowing the mind to wander, which in my case is never positive. (I seem to be getting really good at wallowing these days.)
Perhaps it’s because I recently made out with someone who at the time, seemed very much into making out with me, but is now recently discovering his feelings for an ex. Hmmmm…does this sound familiar to anyone but me? I have the best ability to become attracted to unavailable men. I have men besides themselves on hands and bended knees wanting to obtain my affections. Yet, again, I ended up kissing the wrong person goodnight. Isn’t it true that forbidden fruit makes the best jam? The reality of the situation is this; I have chemistry with one, an undeniable force field of feel good happiness. But when that fades, what do I have? Someone who is barely allowing himself to be with me, someone who I can never tell is thinking of me, and only me. Someone who makes me question my existence and confidence and second guess all that the others are so certain of as my amazingness. I want and deserve someone who wants screamingly and desires strongly, all of me. It takes more than fucking to keep me warm.
Why can’t I just like the ones who put me above all else? Simone de Beauvoir said, “
The knight departing for new adventures offends his lady, yet she has nothing but contempt for him if he remains at her feet.” Alas, I succumb to my dazzlingly intelligent French philosopher and equate my insatiable hunger for hurt as my simple and inescapable fate as a female.
