No one likes a crybaby
The primary impetus of my renewed interest in writing is because my girlfriend broke up with me almost 5 years to the day. I have free time, quiet, and a lot more money now. I drift back and forth between needing to swallow a couple shots of Scotch and smoke half a pack of Camels to fall asleep, and looking forward to being on my own again. Lately I am feeling like I am going to end up like one of the billions of people on earth who have to accept that their life is not what they were hoping it would be. Never get where I want to be in my career, and settle for marrying a woman simply because being alone has become too much. Then again, I try to tell myself that being aware of that puts the odds in my favor. After all, fear of real commitment worked well enough for me to fuck up this relationship with someone who I was really beginning to think I could be happy with for the rest of my life. However, I can’t really reconcile my love for her with the fact that a part of me is definitely a little excited to be open to do anything, with anyone, again.
Relationships are fucking bizarre. They are a series of intense emotions. First you LIKE her intensely. Then you LOVE her intensely. The you FIGHT intensely. Then those feelings crisscross back and forth between the kisses and the fucking until you either end up married or broken up. Most likely, you’ll beak up - and while all those intense feelings were so true when you felt them if you’re smart they eventually become meaningless; a relic of what you convince yourself was young naivete (which it was, or worse).
And yet even if you love the loneliness, you never really feel completely comfortable with it. You’ll probably end up getting a cat.
I disappointed her again tonight and she was angry with me; it felt like we were dating again.