I Feel…Cold. No, Hot. Dude, Where’s My Sweatshirt?!

“It’s not your home so you should get all your shit out!!!!!!!”

That’s what I want to say to my Fibromyalgia.

I was just reading one of the many forums I belong to for support, and everyone was commenting on and connecting about how our sex lives have changed due to Fibro.

The consensus?

“What sex life?”

There is also a lot of guilt for those of us it affects because of how it affects or had affected our relationships, sometimes tearing them apart.

TMI trigger warning: after a year and a half of telling me it didn’t matter to him, my ex told me he needed sex or the relationship wouldn’t be worth it anymore. Since I couldn’t promise that to him, and I hadn’t even been properly diagnosed yet, that was effectively the literal breaking point.

So, about nine months later, I went shopping. And took this picture of myself. I like the picture, and I like my Converse. I’m pretty sure I noticed for the first time that I lost weight.

I reentered the dating scene with a vengeance. I have talked about some of that, I think, in prior posts. But the one thing I really can’t get over is this double standard of bullshit that exists.

The men I’ve met:

  • want to commit right away
  • don’t want to commit at all, or,
  • maybe want to eventually commit, but don’t want to put a lable on it, and definitely don’t want you seeing or sleeping with other people while they decide if you’re worth it or not.

It’s that last one that is killing me.

I classically enter abusive relationships. They’re not always physically abusive. But they ARE almost ALWAYS psychologically abusive.

Apparently I haven’t learned much after being out of commission for eleven months. I had wanted to take my self-care extremely seriously and to give myself time to heal as a person before jumping back into that dating pool.

And I can get dates, I’ve learned. I can get a ton of dates. Literally over 2,000 dates, and growing.

But, what do I do when the guy I am the most interested in (so I give in to his requirements) not only has me eating out of his dog’s bowl begging for more (while he’s insisting we don’t know each other very well so we should “keep it light”) loses his fucking mind? When he starts changing the words I say to start some kind of fight? When he tells me I’m doing something I’m not actually doing? When he literally tells me to “get out” of his place mid-conversation because he’s decided he’s done with me in that moment and that his needs are more important than mine? And finally, when he tells me that he won’t get tested for STIs even though he wants to have sex because the last thing that he has to hold on to shit about his ex is that she maybe didn’t cheat on him.

Newsflash: you can both be cheated on AND still not get STIs.

None of that sounded extremely healthy to me.

But Jesus Christ.

That’s where I was.

Falling. Too fast. Too hard.

There’s obviously something about him that I really didn’t want to let go of, but maybe I should have much sooner.

I universally idealize the men I date to the point where I’m then idolizing them. I know I do this. I want to be wanted so badly, that I give up vast parts of myself in order to keep partners around. I play the guessing game.

I’m supposed to be in my friend’s wedding in just over a week. I tried on all of these dresses, and now the one I picked doesn’t fit because I lost some weight. Ok. A lot of weight, for two months.

My friend called me fat. So I stopped eating. I don’t enjoy eating anyway. I also stopped caring about myself for awhile. So. Yeah.

Plus, also, I can’t deal with my Fibro right now.

Let’s call this guy I was most interested in, “Binny.” Binny was supposed to come to the wedding with me. He said he would. He claimed he’d help me get through it regarding my Fibro problems. The idea of him being there even gave me hope that I could actually do it without too much stress.

But he fucked it up.

I have another post coming very soon. It’s my commentary on how internet dating has changed since I’d been online dating ten years ago.

It got different. Almost overnight. Like Binny became a totally different person.

He went from asking me to send him texts all night long while he was sleeping (he goes to bed early for the only respectable job he’s ever had, and I am always up late) and all day while he was at work so he would have something to look forward to reading, to, asking me if I ACTUALLY felt that sending him 25+ texts without a response was “appropriate.”

What the actual fuck?! He literally flipped the switch on EVERYTHING. And I have dealt with gaslighting before, but Binny was the King of the strategy of making one (me) feel absolutely insane.

I really don’t know why I can’t get him out of my head. I REALLY fell for him. Well, I guess I really fell for the idea of him.

In the beginning, he told me things I’ve heard so many times before.

He cited to me the reasons that I’m amazing.

The ones who I can never seem to “keep” are the ones that fall the hardest for me the fastest. And I knew once I realized he had, it would never last.

It’s really like these guys can’t believe I care about them so they start to treat me like garbage to level the playing field, except I never see it coming until it’s too late. Way, way too late.

Binny vaped. Guess what I do now. I vape. Do you think that’s healthy behavior? I don’t.

But, I also don’t give a fuck anymore.

That’s where I am.

I don’t give a fuck.

For the record, I don’t think this is a good place for me to be.

So, that’s happening.

🎶♥️✌️

1 thought on “I Feel…Cold. No, Hot. Dude, Where’s My Sweatshirt?!

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