Doormat Complex & The One That Got Away.

Except that I totally am.

 I don't know how to start this one. I know there's some one out there reading this that may be hurt by what I have to say. Hurting some one I care about is the last thing I want to do, but I know it's some times unavoidable.

   And frankly, I've been hurt so much, I'm starting to think maybe it's time this person got a taste of his own medicine. (P.S.: I re-read this and shivered a little inside: some times my inner Scorpio scares me with that "eye for an eye" shit)

   I know that I can start by saying that none of what I've had to go through with particular person is new to me. My romantic endeavors tend to be quite cyclical, and while I should know by this time what is likely to happen when each new cycle starts, I'll probably follow that familiar course any way. I'm starting to see that it's rooted in the fact that I have an ideal, I have something I know I want to happen in terms of a relationship. Most of me feels like this is a great thing; having an ideal can help me ensure that I won't settle for less than I want or deserve. The other little bit of me thinks it's time to shut that nonsense down.

   Growing up, I never had a relationship to look up to the way most children had. Even kids from divorced families will more than likely get to see their parents interacting with a romantic interest or new spouse. But I never had that. After my mother left my dad, she never had another relationship so I never had anything to base an ideal off of.

   Once I was old enough to become of aware of the fact that one day I would be taking part in the whole relationship thing, I started collecting information from my respective "adoptive moms". To this day the one thing thing in common they all had to say was "Your partner should be both your lover and your best friend." This made perfect sense to me, and still does - especially because I now know from multiple first hand experiences that it's impossible to have a relationship with some one you could never be just friends with for what ever reason (lack of common interest being the main one). I'm sure most people know this - I can't be the only one who falls for her friends all the time, right?

   But getting back to the cycle: Some one came into my life, and he was different than any other. You know how sometimes you're lucky enough to have an instant connection with some one? It was that. I don't know what it was about this person, but I was immediately comfortable and open (where I would normally be quite reserved). He became very dear to me very quickly.

   We were unfortunate in taking what we had to a different level, that perilous realm of intimacy - but fortunate to be able to cultivate a friendship after the fact. But, for me at any rate, the damage was done: I had fallen in love, and a different kind of love than I had previously experienced. I decided to tell him as much and it left me feeling like hell.

   It was easy to convince myself for a long time that  I was over the idea of wanting us to be together. But every now and again I'd spend a little too much time with him and start thinking "Man, how cool would it be to have a relationship with your best friend?" But I'd just keep stamping the notion down and chalking it up to my being lonely.

   But upon deep contemplation, I realized that was simply not the case. I didn't want this person because I couldn't find any one more desirable. I wanted him because I finally felt what it was to fall for some one who felt like a perfect match rather than conceding to settle on some one who was filling a hole (and I do mean in more ways than one). I was never bored with him. He was usually the only one who could make me laugh when my day was shitty. I always felt nice when he held me, even if it was platonic. It killed me to see him sad, and it felt so good when I was able to help him in any little way. I wanted to be that person he'd turn to always.

   Any ways, long story short: my endearing habit of giving some one I love everything I have kicked in, and he loved having some one to care about and take care of him. But I mistook his need for my support as... I don't know. Something it wasn't.

   Whoops. My bad.

And you want to know the sick part? Even knowing I'll probably never get what I want out of this, I'd still drop everything to be there if he needed me, because it truly does kill me to see him unhappy.

   So that's where I am right now. I was mad - livid, really. Now I'm just sad because I never thought I'd have one of those "the one that got away" situations. I always thought that if I was fortunate enough to find some one worth pursuing the way he is, I'd never let them get away.

   Oh, Life. You kind of suck today. 

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