Every time just like the last, on the ship tied to the mast.

full circle

full circle

Funny how that fits love perfectly isn’t it? It’s actually alluding to heroin usage. Love has been compared to drugs. Maybe it’s just more personal for me. I’ve learned a lot since my last two forays into love and relationships.

The first one was painful when it ended, it really hurt me losing her. She was my best friend since we were kids but it pales in consideration to the fuckery of the second one. I’m not saying I blame her for everything but in retrospect I now know what is to be in a bad relationship.

Still it hurt to lose her because she meant a lot to me and at the time I probably would have done everything and anything to make it right and workable… Now I’m outside of it I’m like ‘fuck that’ and ‘was I stupid.’ The answer to this is yes I was and that I am not innocent.

Now I have experience of both I know what to look out for and the multitude of ways I could fuck up a good thing. It’s all a learning curve. So I set out again with fresh perspective, scars and lessons learned.

When I was younger, less experienced and more arrogant I wrote an article regarding break ups. The information was good but it was best case scenario stuff. Easier said than done I think it’s called. It’s not so easy with the intense emotions involved in an actual break up.

It’s easy to talk from the outside of these situations. When you’re there yourself in your own unique set of circumstances there is no right answer. Plenty of wrong ones though. All of the advice was rather non specific and cannot be applied so well in practice for that reason.

I should rewrite that article. This brings me to what I am looking for. I don’t necessarily have a type. I like intelligence, I have to be physically attracted to her. There has to be something special about her. I think that’s all manufactured by my own perception though.

As I mentioned I’ve met two women I like. The first one I met is a really nice woman in a really shit place. Very likeable, she’s still learning about how people can be shit. She means so well and cares so deeply that people will try to take advantage of her, and they have.

A part of me wants to teach her the skill of spotting those pricks a mile off but at the same time I’m worried she’ll become jaded as I did. So I’m just focusing on making her laugh talking to her and stressing that none of what happened is her fault.

I like her partly because I feel completely at ease talking to her, we agree on a lot of points and she appreciates my perspective. If she finds the right man she’ll be a great partner and a very happy woman.

Now the other one is something different. She seems very intelligent, eloquent and pretty fun to converse with. She’s never really thought about companionship until recently. She seems to have taken a liking to me. Quite a unique woman in many ways. I’m just getting to know her really.

There’s another girl I met too, she’s a strange one. Great sense of humour and easy on the eyes. Very clever but she doesn’t display that. Very casual in her conversation. I like her but I’m really not sure why. She’s an endearing kind of weird. Also I’m weak for a sarcastic chick.

I’m not even sure she means to be likeable but I get the feeling she’s into me. I’m going to have to test that hypothesis by throwing a compliment out there and watching her reaction. I’ll be able to tell but this one is generally quite hard to read. I like a challenge.

I’m actually looking forward to the point where I can spend some time alone with someone. What I would give to fall asleep with someone. I miss that warmth next to me at night. I’d complain about it before but now I miss having my covers stolen by a sleeping woman.

It’s funny too, how when you get into a relationship they always end up stealing your clothing. My ex fiancée still has my favourite jacket and Chelsea scarf. My other ex has my damn sweater. They both stole my damn underwear because and I quote ‘Ohh these are so comfortable.’

Or did I give the underwear away? Remember what I said about love making you stupid. That’s the sad part really. You give pieces of yourself to them both literally and figuratively. Pieces that when they walk away you can never get back. Knowing that makes me hesitant to do it all again.

I’ve had to tell myself that my experience, although it seems vast to me, is actually quite limited. Also that I shouldn’t let the outcome of past experiences dictate future ones. Your baggage can end up hurting someone you care about. I have to go in with fresh perspective.

Keep your eyes and ears open but don’t expect them to act as their predecessors did, they are individuals. You just have to let them act and judge based on their actions. Only when you can do that are you ready to start another relationship.

Knowing what I now know, letting go of the past, having felt what I felt and experienced both good and bad, I would say I’m ready now. That and the fact that I can’t get mind off fucking. Suddenly my brain is hyper sexual. I find myself being distracted when I see an attractive woman. You know that automatic head turn?

It’s not a problem until I almost get ran over because I’m distracted by the woman in the shop with the amazing ass. I really need to do something about that as its becoming a problem. I find myself meeting their gaze and smiling at them too because what is the point of admiring her if she doesn’t realise I’m doing it.

It’s not just all that though. I find myself missing cooking together and showering. Those random passionate moments where she’s walking in the hallway and you’re staring at her ass as she walks then you grab her by the hips, turn her around and start kissing her.

I actually find myself missing the attention. I’m not sure if that’s sad or not. I could use something to smile about. I’m definitely craving someone. Love and lust are powerful things.

Having gone through those last two relationships I have to ask myself: How many times must I sell myself before my pieces are gone? This time I’ll do things differently.

-Misanthropist.

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