Let me begin by saying how honored I am to have been chosen from the hundreds of girls your clammy finger swipes through on any given day. I’m so glad there was something in my profile that spoke to you on some level – I’m sure that’s what it was. And what was I chosen for? You don’t know, do you?
I was not some prize to be won, because you knew exactly what you were doing. I was a deer, lined up perfectly in your scope. You had me before you even knew what to do with me. The rope was in your arsenal, ready to tie me down (unfortunately this has not **actually** happened yet) and then insist we go back to my place instead of yours because, “My roommates are weird when other people come over.” I was not something to be casted and put on display – to be proud of.
You took the time to get inside my head. You got to KNOW me. As someone new to this game, even I knew this was not how hookups work. My head naturally began to think that maybe this could be something more. So you got what you wanted, and I yearned for something in return. And when you left, those thoughts stayed and at times made me feel desperate. What if it’s me? What do I have to do to keep your attention?
One of you thought this made you a rare find. Yes, you just wanted to fuck (a point you would not say outright until after we had stopped seeing each other) but it was more than that because you actually seemed to care about me as a human being. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too (something you weren’t even that great at). You told me this did NOT make you a “fuck boy” because you maintained contact and genuinely cared. Well, Gold. Fucking. Star, dude. Congrats on being able to sleep better at night thinking you’ve done a ~good~. What’s funny is that this made you more of a “fuck boy.” This did not make you a token good guy.
The “good guy” trope is something I have heard before. My father repeated it a lot after he cheated on my mom the final time. He told us that despite everything, he’s still a “good guy” and wanted my sister and I to see him as such. I still don’t know how to look my father in the face and tell him that that doesn’t matter. Your actions speak louder than this bullshit drivel. And if you were such a “good guy,” you wouldn’t have continued to do this. And though I may love my father to pieces, it’s a selfish fucking response. People are going through this shit every day at the hands of others who think head games are okay as long as it appears the other person isn’t hurting. You do this by getting to know us, getting us off first (one guy actually told me he knows about the female orgasm deficit – I let him stay the night), and connecting with us on our favorite things.
Am I more pissed at you all, or myself for continuing to make these shitty decisions? Why are the fuck boys – the ones I sleep with – the ones I end up developing feelings for? The worst part of everything is that I know how to work on this. Stricter boundaries would help immensely and help my heart from continuously getting hurt. When will I begin putting that into action?
A part of me continues to defend you. Maybe you’re just stupid. Maybe you’re busy and that’s why you haven’t replied to any flirty text I’ve sent. Maybe it’s me! Maybe I am the problemmmmmmm. But honestly, maybe I am. I think something in me was broken by my ex and the way the ex before him handled everything in the bedroom. I have never been held up to mean anything more, so maybe I don’t want to. Maybe something in my subconscious is sabotaging myself on purpose.
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