I started this post and then got a paragraph in and didn’t feel like finishing it. Here’s my halfway attempts before I stopped out of irritation/frustration/disinterest.
I haven’t really talked about my love life mostly because I don’t currently have much of one. I vowed to take a hiatus around November and self-fulfilling prophecies means I’ve stuck to my promise to stay celibate for as close to a year as I could get.
It’s been 6 months.
Last night I was alllll set to bust that streak. When you want to get laid, and someone is promising they’re available, well the hormones take over. The kitty wants what the kitty wants.
Except, by 11pm I was shaved, waxed, showered, naked, and not getting laid. I was disappointed by someone again because it’s the story of my life. Not a text, call, explanation, or a “sorry I fucking bailed on you, I’m a huge douchebag”.
Woke up tired of trying with this particular person, but willing to be kind about it. In essence, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but I’m not interested in putting myself out. Again. I don’t get an explanation, but I got a sorty for leaving me out in the cold. All well in good, except… I. Didn’t. Get. Laid.
See, this isn’t the first time something has ‘come up’ and I’m left wondering why I bother. Yea, the sex is beyond good, but if I can’t even get an explanation for why I’m being left holding my proverbial dick, then maybe we shouldn’t bother with each other.
It’s hard not to let the underlying message of not being worth someone’s time bother you. I keep hearing the message loud and clear.
So here I am learning the hard lesson of disappointment. AGAIN.
My celibacy streak continues.
