21. Back To The Intro

Joli Bord

And another one bites the dust

Oh, why can I not conquer love?

And I might've thought that we were one

Wanted to fight this war without weapons

And I wanted it, and I wanted it bad

But there were so many red flags

Now another one bites the dust

Yeah, let's be clear I'll trust no one

Sia - Elastic Heart

We simply happened to each other. Caused chaos in our worlds and left, like it's the most normal thing you can do. What was even the point of it all?

He didn't text me the whole Sunday, even though I was sure he will do that, or maybe I wasn't actually so sure. During that night at the club before I left, I could sense that something has changed, just didn't know what happened. Him seeing that guy he used to work with? Thinking of jumping on another victim to seduce and get addicted to him? I started to think that maybe he stayed there, met someone and took him home. Or went to this guy's home. And that was the only reason he didn't reply to my "We're done". My dearest friends - paranoia and dark thoughts, as always, came back to me.

So I texted him the next day, when I calmed down and my anger was outgrown by longing, yearning, craving. I texted him, finishing it all for good. But that was not my intention, as I previously explained - in such cases it's only an act of kicking the ball into your opponent's court, to see his reaction. A cowardly thing to do, when you're scared to be honest and vulnerable in front of someone who could trample your heart like Beatrix Kiddo crushed the eye of Elle Driver in Kill Bill 2, after their legendary fight.

So I kicked the ball. What's more, I humiliated myself and stupidly apologised for my reaction that night (he did something shitty, and I apologised for my reaction - huge mistake, in a relationship it makes them think they can do anything then), said I enjoyed getting to know him, and that I hope he won't remember me badly. He replied after one hour maybe, there were no apologies for how he behaved that night, only wished me all the best as well, said that it was all great and in the end added: Good luck trying to find another Prince Charming.

That was mean. Told him so, he replied that wasn't his intention. Few hours later, to be specific late at night, when I was already in bed, I did this horrible, the bravest thing one could do in such situation. I thought - there is nothing I could lose now, it's already done. You see, sometimes you wonder if the other person really wanted to end it or if they just thought you wanted to do it, so they didn't say anything. I didn't want to be like Meryl Streep in Doubt, so I was honest with him. Knowing is better than wondering.

Told him how I feel about it all and about him, that if he will change his mind, if he would like to give it another chance in the future, he knows where to find me. Additionally, in the end, I said something he misunderstood, or, once again, understood exactly as I said it, and not as I wanted him to get it. I told him to not reply to this message as it was already way too humiliating, to say something like that. Meaning - don't need you to say it, if you don't want to try again. There was no reply.

So I had to move on. As the whole bloody affair lasted two weeks, I gave myself a week to mourn it before moving on. The problem is, after sending that text, I was hoping he will get back to me, so I didn't feel sad or anything, didn't feel like we ended it for good. Still, though, I was on Tinder and tried to find a good plaster after Franc. I managed to plan quickly three dates, only for me to cancel them or simply ghost those guys later on.

While being back on Tinder (it pains me to admit it), I realised Franc set the bar a bit higher, what obviously was very problematic for me. Not only with his muscles and pretty face, but the attention. Having good morning and good night texts every day, not letting my texts marinate for hours with read or delivered. Seemed like he was always there, ready to listen to me anytime I wanted. And we could never talk enough about anything. But here I was back to the intro and talking to the guys with conversation skills of a cauliflower. And all those bottom princesses pretending they're versatile, waiting for someone to come and save them.

Still, I forced myself to plan those three dates with some more talkative guys, even though I wasn't attracted to even one of them. Whenever any date was getting closer, I felt inside this huge fear coming as well. Something inside of me was screaming to cancel it, to delete everything and to not see any guy, ever. Did I get scared of going on another pointless date with someone I won't like, or the other way around, I was afraid I will like him, and it will be great once more, only to become a pain in the ass I will have to get over, again? So on Friday I texted Franc, telling him I'm unable to wait like that, that I've changed my mind and even if he doesn't want to continue it, be blunt and let me know. He did.

We talked for one hour, maybe. That was also the day I decided to quit smoking, so you can imagine it was pretty hard for me. He admitted he misses me, that probably we both miss each other, but also that we both know it has no future. That he enjoyed talking to me, he enjoyed getting to know me, but I'm too hot and cold all the time, it's too much drama for him. I was explaining to him that my reaction was only caused by his action at the club, however exaggerated. He said I activated his trauma, a memory of his father telling him he has enough. He completely ignored that part about what he did and kept on blaming me for being irrational and hysterical. Okay, then, the end.

For a week, but I'll get to that. I cancelled all the dates, deleted my Tinder and for the first time ever started changing something in my life, turns out the thing with Franc motivated me more than a breakup with Mattias. I kept my promise and stopped smoking. Started working out and doing yoga, got back to learning French and Italian. And got back to writing here and decided to rebrand this blog a bit, creating collages for all of my posts. New hobby. I even started moisturising my butt, and now my skin is so soft you can't even imagine it.

But let's get back to my former "Would-Be". One day I was cleaning the flat before leaving for the weekend, when Franc texted me. Randomly. Just by getting back to what I told him during our last conversation, about one thing that got hard to do now, that he's gone. He admitted now he understands what I meant (once again, proved he only cares about things and actually understands them only when they happen directly to him). And admitted that he was sick recently, said it's probably psychosomatic (physical disease caused by stress or other psychological problems). I knew it's a trap, so I joked he should sue his bosses for mobbing. He laughed and said that's not the reason, that it's Tinder and all this dating. Couldn't even say directly what he means, maybe wanted me to keep asking about it, but I ignored this information.

And we started talking, just like that. But he only texted me wanting one thing from me, but I didn't know it then, yet. We talked for a few days, and I was thinking all this time what should I do - keep doing it, ignoring the fact he told me he doesn't want to continue it and still texted me, hoping that things will go naturally from now on, or should I ask him about what happened between us and possibly spoil it again. You know me already, I couldn't be quiet and had to spoil it. So we had this uncomfortable talk again and in the end he got really mean, making fun of some kinky thing we did, something he initiated and wanted to do. Told me to find someone else, who will do that with me. So I was mean back, and that was it, once again. For a few days.

When I got back to him, reaching Mount Everest of stupidity and humiliation. But you see, his manipulative information about getting sick and the cause of it, this literal trap - worked. All this time I was thinking how it all influenced him, if he got sick. How much he had to care about us, but didn't want to admit it. So I texted him, when I was in his district. He said he didn't mean to offend me with that kinky thing, that it was a joke, but didn't apologise for it. Laughed it off a bit, said I have an emotional roller coaster and that we can continue if there won't be any expectations or demands. Ok, so basically a situationship. We continued for a tiny little moment, when he revealed once more what it is that he wants from me now.

What was it? Sexting. You see, when we were still (not) dating, towards the end, during those days when we didn't meet that often, we started doing something. He would text me randomly that he got hard or horny, and, as we couldn't see each other at the moment, he'd ask for my help. So we started this weird thing where I was basically writing a sex story for him. And without bragging, those stories were good. At first, I was using my imagination, but with time I was so exhausted of doing it (sometimes a few times a day), that I was just writing him what happens in one of my favourite porn movies.

He loved it all so much, I think he got addicted to it. Watching porn wasn't enough for him now, that was the real reason why he reached out to me after that week, and that's why he accepted me back when I reached out to him again. My big, horny, hypersexual Prince Charming was a druggie, and I was his dealer. But it all felt disgusting and humiliating, like he was using me, like I was jerking him off virtually. So when I saw he doesn't want to talk once we're done with the story, then texts again only when he's hard, I sent him a long message. I was mean and very cruel, letting out all of my frustrations that were building up. All this disappointment and anger, wondering how the hell did it go from getting flowers to jerking him off through WhatsApp.

And that was the final act. Ugly, disgusting, dirty. Not at all what I intended. I regretted meeting him, letting him get me addicted to his love bombing and attention. I hate the yearning that came soon after I finished it for good. It was so physical. I could literally feel it in my chest and stomach, this huge need to see him and be with him. And I let myself cry, after all he turned out to be a huge disappointment, but I was still into him and if he came to me, I would greet him with open arms, like the biggest moron.

That's idiocy, fully aware of that. But that's the problem, once you fall for someone, even though they could treat you like shit, you will still forgive them. But if you did, what would happen? Continuation of this farce, then again you speak up about it and have to end it all again and again. If we don't feel anything to someone, it's so easy to cut them off for the red flags they show. Like in this tweet: When you're in relationship you ignore 152 red flags, when you're single, you don't like the way this guy types.

When feelings are involved, we're screwed. The constant fight of your brain and heart, then, if you're lucky, months or year later this amazing feeling when those two unite and the pink filter through which you saw him, disappears, and suddenly you realise he was a normal guy. It was only your feelings to him that made him special. That it was all just chemistry, your brain being tricked too, not only your heart. Knowing well that some day you will fall for someone new and then can only hope that this time you will get it right. As if you had any power to alter the course of it even a little bit.

What about Franc? He completely removed from my head any guy that came before him. Unintentionally, he showed me how narcissistic I am. That my people pleasing part means I am manipulative as well. And while I couldn't help but see the pointlessness of this whole affair, felt bitter about it all, I had to admit he motivated me to take better care of myself. So I have a chance in the game that gets tougher with every year. He just happened to me and there might be a lesson in this story, not to fall for another love bomber, but honestly, I'm pretty sure I didn't get any smarter at all, and I will gladly fall for another narcissistic guy with a pretty face or dick.

And I think he was unhappy, as me, maybe just a bit differently. Happy people don't do things like that. Happy people don't walk around hurting others, even by accident. Happy people are not fucked up, they're not sick, unstable like that. You can only get more unhappy if you try too hard convincing that unhappy person to like or to love you. I broke a few rules while trying to date him, I was an idiot, a big one this time, couldn't let him go. But this one thing I don't regret, as you should never feel ashamed of your feelings. You should never feel guilty that you love more or that you carry your heart wide open, and your arms are ready to greet someone and give him everything you have. Many single people want to be in a relationship way too hard. 'Tis the reason they do stupid things sometimes. And there is no dumber person than a person in love.

Another disastrous love story, another fiasco, another mistake/lesson added to my history. The end, goodbye and good luck, Frank. I do hope he will find his own happiness. One day, probably years from now, I might see him somewhere, coming home from work, or he will see me walking down the street. Memories will come flooding back, but they will be stripped of the emotional layer, there will be no pain any more, no longing, no bitter disappointment. Therefore, none of us will even remember that at some point, in the course of our lives, for a short, tiny little moment, we faded into each other, and could have had it all.