Love help: On new years 2003 I drank ill-gotten gin from an emptied vanilla bottle with an angel. - Help.com

Thank you, that means alot to me.

learningtobreathe wrote:
That was lovely, but I want to know her name. You never know who is listening.

Name’s aren’t important. If she were reading this it wouldn’t change a thing. What’s done is done, and none of my piety or wit shall cancel half a line drawn.

flesheatingtac wrote:
yes it was very nicely written….but I came here to bc of a comment left someone else…just wondering if you still need a driver to go from texas to cali with horse experience, over the age of 21 and able to pass a background check ??? I would have a few questions if that is still on the up and up… thx

I don’t think so. That was a one time offer I made to someone who I suspected wouldn’t have accepted anything less than cold hard cash. Sorry, I’m sure you’re an excellent teamster, but I only offered because I knew that person wouldn’t have accepted.

Y’know, I’m sure everyone has a story that you compare to every other relationship you’ve had. This one is mine. Now I’ve got problems with actually becoming attached to otherwise great girls; the exact opposite of my original post.

For instance, I dated this girl named Amanda for a few weeks, but I decided she was too much into counter-culture, and I’d never be cool enough for her. She would call me and tell me she had fun and then try to hang out again, but I always tried to limit my time with her because she made me feel dorky.

Then there was Miranda, who loved dogs and books. She stayed home all the time, her house smelled like gingerbread so I couldn’t blame her. She had more bookshelves than I’d ever seen in somebody’s house, but she wasn’t a pompous type of person; she just loved stories and ideas. She loved to hear me talk, and she made me think I was a good speaker, but I always was afraid she was humoring me.

After her came Samantha, who loved to drink and read lyrics like poetry. I never understood her very well, and I think she never quite understood herself, either. Most people would have called her a cumpolsive liar, but I don’t see them as lies; more like finite truths. Almost everytime I saw her she was something else. She changed her opinions, her motives, her habits, and her ways of speaking just as often as I change socks. She was plain and too skinny, and I think she resented me a little bit for being better looking than her and for being more socially equipped than her. I think I came the closest to loving her than all the others, but I never quite felt it. She did, I think. After about a year of being together she became consistent with me; it was always she and myself against all of *you*. I was privy to all the versions of her, and I ate them all up, but I never loved her. Now we’ve stopped sleeping together. She got sick of not cuddling and my never being beside her when she screamed, pointlessly, at things she’d never change.

Most recently there’s been Jessie, who’s an insufferably cheerful little ***** that makes snide comments behind people’s backs and loves pets. I enjoyed having her as a weapon. She could make people cry. The plan backfired on me when she said “I love you,” and I said, “Thanks!”

I wonder if I’m overcompensating for being too needy and quick to be in love in my relationship with the girl in the original post? I’d be extremely embaresed if she knew that I’ve carried it with me for years as a type guide pin in my life, but I do!

I’ve always been pretty good with doing the ’sidebar’ thing. Y’know what I’m talking about; no agenda, no secrets, just absolute disclosure. Alot of people mistake it for eloquence, but it’s just the rare time you see some one absolutely honest.

Truth is, that relationship didn’t end like a romance novel might. There was hurt feelings, and stupididly I did alot of the hurting myself. Both to her and to me. That’s life, though. Thanks for being interested in another human beings, by the way! I sometimes remind myself “this is nothing new.” It keeps me grounded. Otherwise I might think that these amazing (although sometimes horrible) things I feel in my life are somehow unique, and that I’m the only person that can experience these awesome feelings. It’s good to remind myself that it’s all been done before, and that I should be as aware of my fellow man’s feelings as myself. Still, it’s hard to keep that in mind.

I love mankind’s capacity to be hurt and to love. I love that feelings exist. I love having my heart broken. I love being lost when it comes to women. I love being a misanthropic freak unable to find love. I love THIS.

And more to the point; I love getting drunk on a thursday night and feeling miserable about myself! Life! I love life!