Just little things crop up now and again. I kind of want to forget about the last 4 months, and particularly, those two weeks. It's done, it's over. There's no going back. And I don't want to anyway. Nope. Things are abundantly clear that this wasn't going to work in the first place.
But why did I subconsciously seek that out?? I thought that I was over my stupid absentee-daddy issues. I thought that I demanded more of myself and of someone else to stick around... and to let a lot of my baggage go... and in that regard, I failed.
Why? It's simple, really. I'm terrified that I'll latch on to someone who remotely shows interest, fall way too fucking hard, and then pick up the scraps until they slink away and bail completely.
Just like when I was a kid awaiting my dad's semi-annual phone call, and facing his subsequent "forgetting" to pick me up.
My dad and I have a relatively healthier relationship now. He recognizes he was a fuck-up, and sort of apologized back in December. But I still don't hear from him for weeks at a time... The adult in me asks, "So effing what?" The nine-year old in me still asks, "Why don't you love me?"
And I RECOGNIZED this. I told myself that my dad's inability to be a goddamn father was in no way a reflection of me. These were his issues. Not mine. This translated much into the idea that I want someone in my life. I don't need them.
I was completely up front about it. I never had anything to hide, and at first, it seemed as though the dude was completely on board. I was cautious. I was careful. I maintained my cool, and was wise about things.
But once the gate swung open, I was down for the count. Shit. I didn't expect that one.
I don't want this anymore. I don't want to be that girl who never lets it go. I want a life that's full, and someone who wants to be a part of that.
I'm doing my own thing. An awesome guy out there thinks I'm fucking amazing. I'm patient. Whoever he is, he'll show up eventually.
In the meantime? There is no meantime. My life is great. Now.
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