Whelp…

I don’t like the idea of being the ‘bad one’ in the relationship. I mean, of all the times when I could count, I usually turned down someone who was completely available and not a dick, or I insisted on invoking privileges which were open during the beginning of a relationship, but not anymore. I refuse to let myself be attracted to available men. I don’t know why.

Well, I know why – so I knew I never stood a chance in the first place, so I can get to the point where I blame the dysfunction of the relationship on them, not me. “He wasn’t ready.” “He was married.” “If I can be nice enough to him when he’s punching me in the face, then he’ll realize I’m the only one he really wants to be with.”

Why do we do this? I guess it’s because we never really got to the point where we felt we “deserved” a “good relationship”, but I think it’s simpler than that. I think it’s because we have to change something – the world must uproot itself for us specifically, just like in the movies. Women in the movies are revered, admired, dramatic, perfectly imperfect, sexy, powerful, innocent, immune to consequence (which was the only reason I liked Bella in the first place – bitch got fucked up – I assume that’s the ballet studio scene; sorry, I read the book but, after the reviews came out, I couldn’t bear to watch it. I think that’s how my VampireFreaks account got suspended, actually: the first time I saw the first book advertised in Seventeen Magazine’s ‘books to read’ list, I read it, and gave it a positive review in the literature section, simply to increase my credit on the site by submitting reviews to media and participating in conversations on message boards, which I didn’t understand how to do), daring, stunningly beautiful, irresistible to straight men who don’t bone as much as Archer (and then, she’d probably fall for him too, because he’s the only odd-one out as far as behavior is concerned – then get tossed out on her ass while he verbally abuses his servants and nurses a hangover he blames the world for – which he saves on a regular basis, no thanks to his whore mother – I swear, those party stills should read, “Look at my buffet of women; fuck you and your choices, Mom, fuck you.” Which reminds me, I wanna see “Red” really badly), and, except in the pinnacle of tragedy (which I’ve really only seen in, like, ‘Braveheart’ or ‘Gun’ or ‘Merlin’), they just WIN, all the time. Witty repartee, pulling a trick on someone, they are wise and confident and they get everything they want.

Where the fuck was I going with this? Oh yeah – women in movies are considered winners when they stick with assholes who turn out to be triumphant in the end. Blind devotion plus luck equals jackpot – hot sex, success, and you get a lifetime fantasy, courtesy of Fate and/ or One Pleased Deity [“you down with” OPD?]. But that’s not how it works; that’s not how it ever works. It seems like every “romantic comedy” (as opposed to “action flick”) is a woman with a good job meets a guy with a better job, but that’s just a perk because she can take care of herself. He’s completely financially stable, so is she – he begins to woo her, she comes up with a reason to resist.

That’s the other fuck of it – I mean, as long as you’re not a fucking psycho about it (which, trust me, live and learn), you should be able to communicate with people. By that, I mean, the whole “no contact rule” and “save your relationship by not having one, that’ll teach ’em; and if it doesn’t, oh well, either they or you are better off – let’s pretend it’s you” advice bullshit is really pissing me off. However, it is forcing me to branch out, rekindle lost and neglected friendships and partnerships (which, let’s face it, is part and parcel to success – th- huh? What? A route of success that doesn’t involve throwing yourself of the mercy of your romantic partner? do tell!), it’s giving me the opportunity to see my show performed, to record my own music, to celebrate myself for the first time in almost ten years. Being single right now is the best thing for me, that way, after I accomplish a whole bunch of things on my own, I can say, “I did it.” I mean, I’ve accomplished a lot of things already, why do I feel so insecure?

WHERE DID I PUT MY LIFE’S SCRIPT?!

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