I’ve come to a conclusion.

I’m the problem.

It has to be me, because no one ever admits that it’s them.

But also I’m painfully stupid.

Aussie guy and I have–at this point–have gone around the carousel of my own idiocy a few times. But after this last ride, I can definitively say that I’m done.

How can someone pretend to date a person (that’s right, he was pretend dating me), while legitemately dating other women, including getting engaged to at least two other people? Who has the mental and physical stamina for all of that?

Apparently, Aussie Guy.

Who was stupid enough to not question sudden lapses in communication, changes in plans and gradual inability to “perform” in bed? 

How did I find out about his current fiance? She tagged him in a photo on social media! It was her face, laying on his chest, smiling with her left hand casually draped in front of her face, hiding a smile while showcasing the big diamond he had given her.

When I say my flabbers were ghasted… My jaw hit the floor so hard, I’m surprised I still have teeth.

So, I did what anyone in my situation would do. No, I did not contact his fiance–if she was the one he chose, and she’s happy, who am I to ruin something he will inevitably ruin himself?

I took a screenshot, sent it to him and demanded to know why he lied to me about who else he was sleeping with while we are dating. His answer:

“I never once said we were dating, so who and what I do when we aren’t together is not your concern.“

But it is my concern–especially when we’re being intimate.

The audacity. Not just of him, but of myself. For romanticizing the reason he kept coming back to me was “fate.” I really watch too many rom-coms. Read too many trashy romance novels. Excuse too much disrespect.

And expect too little while I give too much.

No more, though. I told him to lose my number, and rethink his engagement. If he can cheat on his fiance, does he really love her enough for a lifetime of monogamy?

Obviously, it was a rhetorical question. Of course he doesn’t. One thing’s for sure, though: he never saw me as a contender for a life partner. And it’s clear as day why he didn’t.

I didn’t respect myself enough to let him go after each and every time I found out there was possibly someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I let him go at the time. But always took him back-like a revolving door of a single bad decision.

Not respecting yourself if basically setting your own self-worth. If I don’t demand respect, then I’m just a participation trophy.

Well, lesson learned. The hard way (no pun intended, especially considering he couldn’t keep it up most of the time).

Guess I’m about to enter my ‘healing’ era. That includes owning my faults in the why and how and what the fuck of every situationship I’ve been a part of. The hardest pill for me to swallow in all of this is that in every scenario, regardless of the male lead, no one had any intention of choosing me.

Not gonna say I’m giving up on dating or men because they’re all trash. That’s unfair and a very unrealistic generalization. It’s not all men. Just the men I seem to be attracting and the ones I eventually choose.

And I better heal fast because I’m not getting any younger. It’s only a matter of time before the clock runs out and I’ll be sentenced to a lifetime of solitude and… cats. I’m allergic to cats.

Gotcha,

~Me