When people meet me, they like my attitude. They like the fact that I don’t give a flying fuck about what people think about me in general. And I have proven it more than enough times to various lists, IRC acquaintances, local friends, et al.
But the problem is, and this is a toughy, I am really insecure about one thing: Whether or not my boyfriend/fiancée loves me.
Now that sounds asinine as hell, and I know it. And I also know that he -does- love me. I knew when he said it, he ‘felt’ it, but when he told me before I left to pack up the rest of my things before I moved to be with him, he actually meant it.
Now why would I question whether or not he loves me?
The answer could be found in various ways.
First off, it is my thinking. I have always “acted” like a man. By this I mean, I have always been more aggressive, more dominant and more ‘pushy’ to get what I want. I know what I want, and I have always strived to get it, regardless of the costs, or who is hurt along the way.
It is because of this “attitude” that has kept me so well protected from relationships, from men/women who are interested in me, from various and sundry other things.
See, I could break it on down for you and tell you about my life. But why should I? It seems everyone these days has one bad story or another where they were beaten, abused, mindfucked by their parents or some other adult when they were growing up. And I won’t be a victim. I refuse to be a victim. I just deal with it, and roll with the punches. Why should I waste my time trotting off to psychoanalyst to psychiatrist to therapist to know that yes, hey, I had a fucked up life, and yes it hurts, and gee beaver, it’s over now, so lets move the fuck on!
But for some reason, when it comes to men and to relationships, I fuck with them so badly, I have grown really cold inside. I care not for the feelings that I have hurt and I care not about those that are interested in me.
Secondly, my bf/fiancée is the first person in god knows how long where I actually ‘felt’ something, other than fly by night feelings. You know the kind I am talking about, the kind that are so incredibly intense, but yet, days, weeks,months later, you can barely remember the person’s name. It makes me vulnerable, it makes me hate him to feel that way.
And I hate feeling that way, but! on the flip side, that is the main reason that I love him. Because he -can- make me that way. How we met and all the miniscule bullshit is not really that important, but I am here now, and I am with him now. But yet, even though I know, by picking up on various aspects from his roommates, from finding information about me on various websites, he -does- love me.
But its all competition baby. I have to know, I have to feel that I am -the only one that he will ever need- and the sickening part is, though I realistically know that he does, I will be a bitch and make his life miserable to force him to tell me.
I found things on his machine that was linked to his ex-gf. I know so much about -that- relationship, I am hardly a bipartisan person in it. He broke it off with her for me, but something inside of me keeps hounding at me about it.
I talked to his roommate about it the other night. She knew about it as well. And she told me basically what I told him about his ex. She was using him, she wasn’t really all that great. She has an @aol.com address for christsakes! I mean, really now, I don’t care if she is uber doctor from heaven with the healing hands. Someone that ‘constantly’ has to be shown how to email someone, does not need to be dating my bf. I mean really.
I used to rip her to shreds, he knew I hated her. Mere mention of her name would send me into bitch mode for long periods of time. This was -way- before he and I even started dating.
And I knew she was using him. Bad marriage, bad this bad that. inconsistency in her statements. I am female, I know for the most part how females minds work, we are NOT all that original in our treating of men, especially when we are in bad relationships. I knew she was using him. I knew it down to my soul, and even thinking about it makes me sick.
So now dear readers, lets look at the facts here. He broke it off with her, before he met me, to be with me. He asked me to marry him before he saw me. He moved me cross-country to be with him and live with him. He calls me from when he is on the road. He buys me presents, he does things with me, he is truly interested in what I have to say, he wants to know what I am doing, what I am reading. He delights in the things that I do for him.
So why do I feel like it’s a big lie, when I know it’s not?
Paranoia? Easier to deal with the bad then when something good happens?
Why is it soo hard for me to break down and be ‘real’ instead of wonder bitch whenever our feelings are discussed? Why was it so easy before and now it’s so hard? Why do I wrap myself up in walls of defense when I talk to him on the phone? Why can’t I just be myself?
Because to be myself is to be human, and to be human is to show pain, and to show pain is to show you are weak, and to show weakness makes you inferior.
I cannot be inferior. Ever.