Silenced

Last message from Li came one week ago. This has felt too damn familiar. I told my therapist this is extremely triggering; the fucking condemnation of history repeating again, reverberating in the back of my head. Specially because the minute Li left my apartment, I unlocked my phone and deleted the four different dating apps I had in there. I was tired, you see? Fucking around became too easy, too goddamn obvious. There was no joy to it and it all came crashing down with my last attempt to a decent fuck back on January 1st. Now that I had met her, why wasting my time in those fucking shit apps?
This is exactly what I did after I met my ex C, though. End of September 2018, I came home from our first date, feeling great. “This has potential. She definitely is special,” I thought. Deleted the apps as well, confident of a brighter future that never came. Now, I’m aware that when you date, you cannot expect exclusivity from the get-go. But I couldn’t even imagine how dirty my ex was. And after I learned about her affair with her married colleague, I felt stupid. Why did I respected this newly formed emotional bond, when she wasn’t anywhere near any of that. Not then, nor throughout the entirety of our relationship.
Fuck, man. I felt so fucking stupid. I still do.
I’m older today. Older and, supposedly, wiser. Yet Li is away in Jylland and have gone on radio silence, just like my ex did in the beginning of our romance. And a similar feeling of despair and disappointment is settling in. And I know that, ethically and while being emotionally responsible, I owe to her and myself to simply just wait it out and letting her do whatever. But I just can’t come to that agreement with myself. The ghosts of the past are haunting me, so relentlessly that it almost physically hurts. Then, I’m confronted with a choice: should I take the same route of 2018 and end up feeling like an idiot, once more; or should I say “Fuck ethics!” and go with my -horny and pessimistic- gut? Not feeling stupid anymore. Just… Dirty.
Apps have come back to my phone. This dark cloud over my head won. Or was it my trauma? A fine tuned blend of both, I presume. Or maybe this whole Li situation was nothing but a fad, after two years of nobody interesting showing up. If so, well, this is just self-care. The thing here is that you cannot leave me to my own devices and fucking disappear on me like you could have had in the past. I’ve grown a deep sense of self-love and much healthier boundaries (or actually just boundaries, period.) And, although it pains me to desensitize myself to those feelings of infatuation I felt on my fucking couch, on that fateful night of January; this I must.
Dating is grim, innit? The fucking zeitgeist of modern relationships makes me sick to my stomach. People so easily switch off their emotions and rather spend their whole lives, in their extremely arbitrary terms, instead of opening up to the human experience of the another. And you swipe away and chat whenever, meet whenever, fuck whenever, engage whenever, and maybe, just maybe, commit to something. If ever. Because options are unlimited, right? Or so we are led to feel and act. And we are seven billion souls in the world; ever expanding. Yet, blinded by this individualistic sense of uniqueness, we forget that finding a true motherfucking “match” is like running into a needle in a haystack. Given the right person, one must embrace them and be grateful. Nurturing that initially weak link and strengthening it, takes time and effort. But nobody seems to give a fuck anymore. Then why the hell should I care, anyway?
Fuck ethics. What’s the point when I’m the only one sticking to them?
The longer I live, the more cynical I become. Is that what the human condition is all about? If so, I hate it. Yet in this god forsaken game where nobody even reads the manual, why should I be the only naive idiot playing by the fucking rules? And then, why the fuck cheating feels so fucking awful? And here’s the ultimate paradox of this state of early ghosting. I can sense the red flags piling up, yet I remain hopeful that this is all in my mind. And I know that I can get back out there and fuck around, again. And again. And yet again. But how can you develop real feelings and connections when you split your time and attention like this? That’s what I never got about my ex C. She was fucking another guy and even planning to go fuck another one, while she was unapologetically saying that she had feelings for me. Were those even real? Was that a delusion then? A lie? Or wishful thinking? I guess I’ll never know, and it doesn’t really matter. Not anymore.
I’ll be reporting soon of how this develops. This ordeal have all the signs of a failure in the making, as you can see. But, if not a relationship nor at least a fling comes out of this, at least you can take it as a cautionary tale. For you. Or for me. Whatever works.

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