I Want You, You Don't Want This. But I Don't Want to "Date"

Hello. I hate my life. I want one person, unavailable, but when he was with me, every single desire was fulfilled plus others that arose and now they're all there and I am alone, haven't had sex in 3 years now, and I am NOT WELL.

FUCK you too. Go away. Stop telling me to find someone else because it's "healthier". Is it HEALTHIER to flirt with people who turn your stomach sexually? Because everyone does but him.

I know it's pathological. Duh. LOOK. IF I COULD CHANGE IT, I WOULD HAVE DONE SO ALREADY.

I miserably fail to even feel the slightest twitch of desire for anyone but the occasional guy half my age who dry heaves when he sees my fucked up too-short hair and my missing teeth and my frown-curve that seems now to be carved in my jaw.

I looked like this in 1995, after some asshole I was crushed-out on got tired of dealing with some obsessive mooning neurotic, and decided to write me a 5 page email telling me exactly how sexually unattractive he found me, and how embarrassing it had been for him to be followed around by this maladjusted older woman who was way too fat for him. (I was only 160 pounds and tall at the time...he could only get off with petite girls with little titties and new-wave haircuts...he liked his girls to look like junior high school boys, I guess. But I had frown lines just like this. Then came my lover in 1996, we moved in together, and after only 6 months one day a mirror showed me a face I didn't recognise, it was a face that had known the giving and getting of LOVE and LAUGHTER.

Now I cry so much there's carved rivulets again in my cheek. This is all bad enough but think of how it feels to someone who despises losers and victims and pathetic pathological people. I hate them because my ex and his NEW girlfriend both really, REALLY wish I would go out on dates like anyone else who breaks up and has a normal month long mourning then gets back into DATING! Even BLIND dates! Dating people who are barely known. Dating people who aren't even your type! Do people actually enjoy doing this?

Somebody kill me.

I don't want to be like this, but I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR, so please fuck off, because you're having sex and I can't stand it unless the guy looks like a rock star or is REALLY REALLY REALLY talented in music, art, magick and has certain energies that just don't exist in anyone who'd be caught dead talking to someone like me. Cute guys avert their eyes when I walk by. I used to think I was just physically ugly, but that's not it.

I am so...over with.

I have lived my life to the fullest, again, and again, and have experienced this and that...I do NOT want to spend the rest of my life slowly growing old, losing one functioning body part after another, finding one new pain or discomfort after another. My body asks so much of me, and in return gives me zilch in the way of pleasure.

The tedious daily tasks needed to maintain one's body! Got to Wake Up, the worst... Then got to Clean Body Feed Body, Put Fluid In Body, Drain Fluid From Body and then Drag Body Around looking for a room I can afford that's not packed with wall to wall yuppies charging four figures a month.

Body gives me zero pleasure, and endless boredom and pain, pain, pain...Last month, I had to quit drugs, which are something that makes me feel right. I have to be straight for a little while, so I can afford to find a place that's not my ex's summerhouse..and then the ex can move his Drama Queen into the place I used to occupy. Or just twirl her around in circles and go to Portland. I loathe that romance so much, and it's not just jealousy. I want one of my own, a guy I can hallucinate with, get stoned with, and talk about the occult with. I just hope there's someone like that left in the world for me. And it'd be great if his hair was long.

I decided I better find a reason to bother caring for this worn-out body that's really close to being past the sell-by date. and if that day comes and goes, and I still have to look forward to a great big nothing because , it's time for purchasing Helium Tank, Two Grams of Chiva, and a Large Hefty Bag With a Tight Tie at the end. I have seen what happens to someone who spends another four or five years like this. I just decided...no.

Tell me to 'get help' and you can put your head into your sphincter. I can get SO helped by having some counselor shrink whatever person tell me "it's going to get better, it will be all right" even though he or she DOES NOT KNOW ME AT ALL, and must think I am REALLY gullible to believe these head games are going to make me feel better about life. Shrinks mouth the same pat little psychobabble lines at children and adults alike. If you're depressed, they'll ask a few questions about your family, your friends. And then scratch off a prescription and it's always for fucking Zoloft or Paxil. Yeah I need a pill to make my mouth dry and also that other mouth downstairs gets dry, too, if you get my meaning. These pills don't work, all they do is take your libido and stomp it to a pulp, and leave it for dead. I hate SSRIs, and seem to never get anything but even worse on the damn things.

The only things which will help me?

1. A long-haired, sleek-framed, high IQ alien who likes older women crosses my path. I think I can deal with it.
2. Sudden preternatural current strikes and I ride it to a situation in which I find viable housing
3. Having all sexual impulses lobotomised from "me ol' whining gulliver" (points to noggin)
4. Drama Queen finds somebody else! See how he likes it. He's got all his eggs in the Drama Queen basket, and if she ever takes a shine to someone else...it's
5. Death by a mother-whomping opiate overdose, potentiated by helium, and a large bag rubberbanded
around my head.

I hate lying. Most of all when it's me who has been doing it.

I keep telling my not-quite-friends-but-long-running-acquaintences that I am not suicidal. There is absolutely no one you can talk to about suicide who won't try to play fucking hero and save you, with pithy stupid phrases like "There's so much to live for!" without one time EVER elaborating about this. Or thinking about how stupid that sounds from a person who KNOWS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about why I feel like living isn't rewarding any more and hasn't been rewarding much at all for about two and a half years.


Once I was in love. Then Drama Queen swept the object of my love, comfort and educational glee far away.

I actually did not dislike Drama Queen...until she told me she would not take him away...and as soon as she found out he was sexually viable, just "changed her mind".

Apparently the ex didn't even care about the fact she'd given her word to me that she wouldn't break us up. Too bad she had to be a usurper so now I can't think of her without the little red lines of hate squirming from my mind and landing on her like missiles that can't hurt you since you have a post-coital glow lighting up kitchen, living room, hall and half the driveway.

Now I am supposed to go out, and re-socialise, small talk with large numbers and flirt and meet new friends AND AND AND!!!

They. Want. Me. To Fuck...Other...People.

Yesterday the ex put that in an email, answering a question.

I asked him, if he thinks I am
I can't. I am trying very hard. But it ain't happening.

I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE.

I wish I did. I don't.

FUCK OFF with the "go-find-another-guy" bullshit. My sea ain't full of fishes except for sharks and bottom-feeders, so if I hear any "other fish in sea" lines, I will pick you up and heave you off the pier.

FUCK OFF. I didn't want anyone else two years ago, either, and I don't want anyone else, dammit.

Everyone thought I'd surely want someone else by now. Still don't. It bugs the shit out of me. Fucking puzzle games!

I like a certain sort of guy. That type tends to avoid 43 year old females who are chunky and depressed.
A slinky serpentine creature with lotsa follicular endowment (LONG HAIR) who has totally unique quirks, hates sports and loves old, non-commercial science fiction books. That would be the type my ex was. There's not too many guys like that. Once in a purple moon I will occasionally meet one...and he always has a girl friend already.

I am not pretty. A few parts of me are...but 2 years of misery have erased my smile. I used to have a different face back while he as here always making me laugh and smile.The hot ones are just out of my league, is how it is put. Who cares, I don't want to play baseball, I want to get stoned and get slithery on the couch.

I love drugs. Guess what? That pleasure's now 86'ed too. I have to watch my money...I'm going to be alone, or at best have a few friends, now, and that's all there is to life.

Sex is something I will likely never have again - I wish I didn't have this absolute need to have someone to mate with who is attractive to me. I gather that the majority of other people flirt with anyone who is available and halfway clean, and enjoy it. Just thinking about it makes me want to walk off a cliff.

I hate lying. I told my ex that the "I-want-to-walk-off-a-cliff" feeling that always came whenever I thougnt of being sexually involved with someone else stopped happening, well, that's over, but it is so not over. I really lied hoping I could con myself into believing it. But I still have spells in which I think, how much heroin would it take to wave goodbye to the "getting old and decrepit with no one to help me since I have no family or close friends at all" scenario that looks like it's what the remainder of life will be like, all work and no reward, no sex and no love. Guys aren't so keen on love without sex.

It's not like I'd be hurting a lot of people, that way.

Of course...I just pretend to have a reason to live, and merely fool myself into being happy and believing that some day I'll meet someone who isn't a fucking DRAB, DRY, HORRIBLE-LOOKING, MENTALLY-RETARDED SHITSACK!

I want someone who will come over and smoke pot with me, and go make hundreds of subversive flyers to distribute...or maybe, we'll drop acid and listen to Coil albums all night long and I will then find out that this guy has some wow-worthy abilities with psi and the sexual current. I have had my mind entered by psi adepts, yeah, these are real, this is actually possible. And now, ordinary normal sex bores me. The ex used to like to go rainbow-walking with me, but suddenly stopped, when he started realizing he didn't love me. That was in 1998, goddammit.

Why didn't I do it myself, leave him, and not be the one who got DUMPED, which left me feeling so embarrassed and worthless and wanting to DIE because of it.

I do not have the urge to flirt that everyone else apparently has, and which my ex seems to think I should have, and dearly wishes I did, so I'd have to lower my standards so far ants couldn't do the Limbo beneath that lowered bar...

I'd end up with some STUPID 'IDIOT-ON-BOARD' GUY with about one-twentieth the worth of the one I lost forever, but he's available, so I am supposed to go chat him up, even though he looks like something I'd rather jump in a school of piranha fish than even get within kissing distance of.

I don't want anyone else, because for the most part PEOPLE ARE LAME. THEY are all IDIOTS! Like I am really going to get aroused by those dweebs and boring middle-managers, GOONS, SALESPEOPLE, WET BLANKETS and PISSANTS. Why do I have to be dating some idiot for my ex to feel comfortable enough with me to just be a friend, even?

I know you're supposed to avoid your ex if you are healing a broken heart, but I don't want to not have him in my life, I am not going to meet another person with his wit and childlike wonder and his psionic sexuality, so I don't want to just hide from him.

I am now so unattractive myself that even the goddam crack monkeys don't Hey-Baby me anymore. I am starting to scare myself because that feeling of skin-crawl every time I imagine ending up with the squiddling droopy retards that come in, sit down and start sucking their thumbs like dicks.

I am sick of having to lie and pretend I am getting better, so people don't get freaked out.

I asked my ex when we first started our pair-bonding to not keep me hanging around if ever his interest should be sliding away especially if it was to another girl - and to be clear and absolute about all important decisions involved. What happened? He kept me around for a year and the day he decided he wasn't in love because the Drama Queen had finally boinked him on a bed instead of a modem, after she went back to Europe, he took a silent walk with me...I asked him if there was anything at all he still loved about me...and he just kept walking, not saying a word. The whole walk, he could not say ONE WORD, I was supposed to just Figure it Out Myself, he could not even say it - he sure thought a lot of me! I'd been being kept around as a spare, in case the other girl and he didn't mesh physically. It was so obvious.

That is the one thing I don't like about him, besides that he has her lip juice on his face EVERYWHERE, now.