I get these crushes on girls. Girls I find beautiful. They could be fantastic writers, they could be visually appealing to me, they could be witty and clever, they could exude “sexy” no matter what they do…whatever, I get to a point where I fixate on them, where my only wish is to make them laugh, or get their attention, or do something to win their approval. Where my only thought is how wonderful they are and how I would like to touch them, to taste them, to be with them in more than just a teasing flirtatious way. To be important to them.
To have them want me the way I want them.
It is a horrible feeling, ultimately, because though I’m giddy at the outset, giddy with lust and with the excitement of the “chase”, I always get to a point where I know there is nothing further for me. They don’t really like me or want me; it’s just a game. For whatever reason–I’m a married woman, they’re only bi-curious, they’re just big flirts–they haven’t let themselves fall in like I have. I always know this point is coming…but I always plunge in anyway, like I think that this time will somehow be different.
And then when I get there I just feel horrible about myself. It’s just like any rejection. I start to think that I’m fat and ugly and not worthy of them anyway. I lecture myself for getting my hopes up. I feel like trash.
It’s a fucking cycle of despair, and I hate it.