Because I’m hella rewarding

Warning: This is a housing- policy-free post.

Recently a guy who I’d been seeing told me he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore. I know, I can’t believe it either.

I mean to be honest I wanted to take a break from fucking him. But only temporarily.

There are two modes I’m comfortable fucking in. One is when I’m in love and it’s reciprocated. The other is when I am not in love and that is also reciprocated. It’s the in-between that I find hard to tolerate. So that’s why I wanted to take a break from fucking him, so I could shift myself back to not-in-love mode, since it was not reciprocated. Whether and to what extent that’s really possible for me I don’t know. But the dick was good and his company was nice and I was more than willing to try. When it comes to dick, sometimes I’m uncharacteristically optimistic.

But he is not willing to try. The idea of fucking me while/after I re-adjust my expectations sounds worse to him than fucking no one. I’ve been thinking a lot about why this is. The only thing I can think of is that he’s scared I won’t re-adjust my expectations and he’ll continue to disappoint me, which is painful for him. To me, that sounds more like my problem than his. And I don’t honestly appreciate the paternalism, thankyouverymuch.

In addition, I suspect he’s scared that I will succeed in re-adjusting my expectations. And that he’ll get hurt. I suspect that he cannot tolerate risking being more into someone than they are into him. Same for another ex, actually.

I think it’s suboptimal to only love people who won’t love you back, which has been my pattern recently. But I think it’s much worse to only love people who love you more than you love them.

I’m still wrestling with what it means to love/like myself. Your phone calls, DMs, texts, and emails definitely helped. Thank you.

But here’s one thing I do know. Being hurt by me in the process of getting to know me is the best thing that could have ever happened to either of these dudes. I mean really. All of life is risk vs reward. When it comes to loving me, the risk is that I break your heart. Not pleasant, I assume. But so far everyone who’s been through it has survived. I’ll probably never hurt anyone as badly as I hurt the one person I loved most. I was a real shithead to him again and again and he doesn’t speak to me anymore and I don’t blame him. Maybe he would say it wasn’t worth it in the end to have loved me. But I kind of doubt it. Our relationship was a truly singular and insane experience. If he felt for me one tenth of what I felt for him, it was more than worth all the bullshit. Which isn’t to say either of us should sign up for that rollercoaster again. Time and energy are finite and we’ve both got other shit to do. But every day I am grateful that I got to spend some time on that ride.

What I’m saying is that the reward of being close to me is so more than worth the risk of getting hurt by me that I’m honestly just shocked that anyone would say no. Looking back, I don’t think I fall for people who can’t love me back because I think I’m not worthy of being loved. I think I fall for them because I can’t believe they won’t love me. Who wouldn’t love me?

Who would waste time with someone they’re not willing to be hurt by?


In my mind, the worst thing that could happen to a dude is not being hurt by me, but missing his chance to know me deeply.

If you make not getting hurt your biggest priority, not getting hurt will be your greatest reward.

And that’s especially sad in my case, because I’m hella rewarding.

Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.