I chatted with a girlfriend the other day who told me she was married before and informally married years later in a Buddhist ceremony to another man. She just married her third husband last year.
"Please don't say third husband to him," she begged. "He's still reconciling the first marriage. If he knew about the second, he'll flip!"
"I'm flipping out," I informed her. "You had three men who loved you so much they married you."
Then, the other day another girlfriend told me she was on her third marriage.
WTF? Two friends with three marriages each? I'm jealous.
"I must be doing something wrong," I let her know. "I can't even get them to commit to see me for another date."
That's when it dawned on me - I never was with a man who was in love with me. I was sloppy seconds for them, never the first choice; the consolation prize for not getting who they wanted.
Wow - that epiphany hit me hard. None of the countless men I was with over 40 years of dating loved me to make any sort of commitment with me. Hell, most of them didn't like my personality. My pussy, yes, who I was as a person, not at all.
Let's say my epiphany was very painful to accept. As they say in Nanu Nanu land, a cult of which I was part for a decade, it must be true because truth hurts. In this case, it cut me to the core.
I had my crushes over the years. Deep crushes. But, I never loved them because the guys never stuck around long enough for that to develop. The few who did hang around did so intermittently for those in the middle of the night fucks. Many lovers last for y e a r s due to my pussy - they just love it. Love the sex. But can't stand me. Hey, I know how it is - I felt that way about the #1 lover of my life, Monkey Boy. He was the BEST lover I ever had and, at the same time, the dumbest person I ever met. I couldn't stand him, yet the sex was outstanding. So outstanding, it took incredible effort to dump his ass.
From time to time I gave the lack of love in my life a passing thought; I lived a relatively loveless existence outside of parental and sibling love. Then I got involved with whatever project was going on, went traveling to whatever country, fucked whatever hot stud was around and the introspection evaporated.
The last 'relationship' hammered it home. I was willing to settle for a weird geeky guy who turned out to be a sex slave bondage porn star. Even so, I might've considered staying with him except even HE, the miserable sick fucker, didn't love me! Hell, he didn't like me and insofar as my pussy, well, I think he likes dicks better.
That hurt like hell.
As I said to my girlfriend, the latter one I mentioned previously in the post, I'm glad I'm done with men. Because I never had love all these years and it's too late to have it going forward. I admit I'm stuck in a rut and only attract deviants and aberrant men. It's way too late for me to 'change' whatever it is that makes these kinds of men attracted to me. I tried that shit for 20 years and I still ended up with the same types and the same scenario:
I'm the one they fuck. I'm not the one with whom they build a future.
Yet, it hurts to the marrow of my bones that I'll go to my grave never knowing how it feels to be loved by a man with whom I'm involved. But, it doesn't stop me from getting laid.
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