This is not a fantasy blog. If you are reading it because you expect another erotic fantasy, then please skip this entry. This is about getting dumped.
In the realm of world tragedies and devastation, a broken heart means very little. Yet, a broken heart is personal and it’s not likely that talk of tsunamis and hurricanes will put this into perspective for me; however, I am hoping that blogging this will help me heal a little more quickly.
Unrequited love is sad. And right now I am very sad. My love is unrequited. Not only is it unreciprocated, but I have been told without question that it never shall be.
I have always been the “dumpee” in relationships. Apparently, I don’t even consider being with someone unless I’m prepared to go the distance. Or maybe I would eventually get sick of someone - they just get sick of me first. I don’t know. What I do know, is that I am an expert in the getting dumped arena.
There are a few men who have their own cruel methods of dumping, but these men are rare. And they can inflict a special kind of pain - humiliation is a favourite technique of theirs. At times physical pain too - nothing says it’s over like a broken bone or getting tossed out of a moving car. Fortunately, I haven’t been with one of those men in a very long time. I like to think I’ve grown from those early horrific experiences.
No, the typical man today uses a combo of “I need time to think” followed by the “It’s not you - it’s me” argument. I find myself the victim of the last of those statements today.
One of the problems with this particular way of getting dumped, is that it takes what I thought was special and turns it into a cliché.
How can I express how I feel? I gave someone my heart - knowing full well that when I did so, he could crush it. I give too easily, but I don’t know how to do it any other way. I don’t know how to protect myself. I don’t know how to love without doing it all the way.
So I hurt. My chest hurts, my stomach feels like it’s been punched. I feel like vomiting. My eyes are swollen from crying. Every inch of my body feels like it wants to shrink in on itself and disappear. My libido is gone - it shriveled away first.
People ask me how I can come up with such erotic scenarios for my blog. It was easy. He inspired me. He made me feel like the most desirable woman in the world. He made me feel safe enough to explore every aspect of my sexuality. He made me laugh and he made me think. My heart beat for him. My body was in a constant state of arousal just knowing that he was in this world. One word from him was enough to push me into a state of lust I had not known was possible. As he said - it was beautiful, emotional and almost spiritual. I agree. At times I would cry because the feelings were so raw and so intense. I was moved to another plane of existence. Maybe people aren’t supposed to feel that.
None of it was real though. All of that emotion and beauty has been reduced to the cliché - “it’s not you - it’s me”.
I wish he had pushed me from a moving car. It would have more original and far less painful.
In the realm of world tragedies and devastation, a broken heart means very little. Yet, a broken heart is personal and it’s not likely that talk of tsunamis and hurricanes will put this into perspective for me; however, I am hoping that blogging this will help me heal a little more quickly.
Unrequited love is sad. And right now I am very sad. My love is unrequited. Not only is it unreciprocated, but I have been told without question that it never shall be.
I have always been the “dumpee” in relationships. Apparently, I don’t even consider being with someone unless I’m prepared to go the distance. Or maybe I would eventually get sick of someone - they just get sick of me first. I don’t know. What I do know, is that I am an expert in the getting dumped arena.
There are a few men who have their own cruel methods of dumping, but these men are rare. And they can inflict a special kind of pain - humiliation is a favourite technique of theirs. At times physical pain too - nothing says it’s over like a broken bone or getting tossed out of a moving car. Fortunately, I haven’t been with one of those men in a very long time. I like to think I’ve grown from those early horrific experiences.
No, the typical man today uses a combo of “I need time to think” followed by the “It’s not you - it’s me” argument. I find myself the victim of the last of those statements today.
One of the problems with this particular way of getting dumped, is that it takes what I thought was special and turns it into a cliché.
How can I express how I feel? I gave someone my heart - knowing full well that when I did so, he could crush it. I give too easily, but I don’t know how to do it any other way. I don’t know how to protect myself. I don’t know how to love without doing it all the way.
So I hurt. My chest hurts, my stomach feels like it’s been punched. I feel like vomiting. My eyes are swollen from crying. Every inch of my body feels like it wants to shrink in on itself and disappear. My libido is gone - it shriveled away first.
People ask me how I can come up with such erotic scenarios for my blog. It was easy. He inspired me. He made me feel like the most desirable woman in the world. He made me feel safe enough to explore every aspect of my sexuality. He made me laugh and he made me think. My heart beat for him. My body was in a constant state of arousal just knowing that he was in this world. One word from him was enough to push me into a state of lust I had not known was possible. As he said - it was beautiful, emotional and almost spiritual. I agree. At times I would cry because the feelings were so raw and so intense. I was moved to another plane of existence. Maybe people aren’t supposed to feel that.
None of it was real though. All of that emotion and beauty has been reduced to the cliché - “it’s not you - it’s me”.
I wish he had pushed me from a moving car. It would have more original and far less painful.