The Spill Babes

I love ruining my love life.

I get a kick out of it. It gives me the same feeling a Sour Apple Four Loko over ice does.

You’d think by now I’d have learned how to not completely ruin a good thing, but apparently, my brain runs on pure sabotage. It’s almost impressive, really. I can take something healthy, promising, and borderline healing and convince myself it’s too good to be true. Then I panic, overthink, pull away, and suddenly I’m sobbing over something I destroyed with my own two hands.

I know what I’m doing. I’m fully aware each time. Watching myself self-destruct in Platinum Ultra HD 4K, whispering “stop” while still smashing the big red button. There’s this weird comfort in chaos, like part of me doesn’t know how to exist without a little heartbreak, a little drama. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s control. Maybe it’s so I have something to write about.

The worst part? I truly liked this guy.

That’s why I did it.

Every time I start truly falling for a guy, the flashbacks of all of the pain others put me through come flooding back. Reality sets in quickly, and I cut it off.

I know I do it since I like to limit the chances of me getting hurt. That’s probably just the eldest daughter in me. Or maybe it’s because I know how the story goes. I meet someone new, spend days talking about what makes us us, and watch it crumble to pieces since we aren’t meant to be. I rarely leave on bad terms with the guys. No one truly does anything wrong in these cases; we just aren’t each other’s person. That’s why when I see him showing off his new girlfriend, I smile at my phone and keep waiting until my day comes.

You see, I’ve always been the girl who comes right before the girlfriend. I truly feel that the universe sends men my way to give them an opportunity to learn how to treat a woman from a woman. Maybe they just need help healing. Maybe they need a push in the right direction. It doesn’t matter what the reason is, though. My rule is I never fall for them.

Now this situation was different. This man truly got me. I felt infatuated with him simply because our values, morals, interests, and wants were so perfectly aligned. I started to feel like we had known each other for years. I’d catch myself patiently waiting for his replies and smiling at his dumb jokes. Anytime I would complain about something after starting my new job (more on that coming so soon babes) he’d always say something stupid like “Welcome to Earth.” He knew how to make me laugh, he knew how to make my mind quiet down, and best of all he knew how to make me believe in myself. I mean, after all, he was there motivating me to keep faith in myself while searching for my first post grad job. Everything was going perfect. He was checking off boxes I didn’t even know I had.

So yeah. I saw myself falling and decided to cut it off. Fully just texted him, “You’re an amazing guy and I know you’re going to make some girl extremely happy, I just know I’m not that girl and it was fun thinking that I found a guy who’s been checking off every box of what I want so far but idk.. I just don’t know this isn’t going to end up with us together.” And yes. That is a quote taken straight from my text to him.

I won’t lie to you babes, I regretted it the minute I saw it delivered. Thoughts of us actually working out and being able to do all of the stuff we talked about swarmed my mind. I wanted to unsend the message. I wanted to risk getting hurt but, I decided to listen to my brain. That ended up with me receiving a “Good Morning” text followed by “Whatever you want.” I replied but, I haven’t heard back, and honestly I never will.

It pains me that I do this to myself.

I don’t have some grand revelation or moral to end this with. I’m not healed, I’m not “working on myself,” I’m just here. Sitting in the mess I made, hoping for some reason he texts me back saying I shouldn’t be scared.

Maybe I’ll do it again, maybe I won’t. But for now, I’m just letting it sting. Even if I caused the wreckage, it still hurts like hell. And maybe that’s enough of a story for tonight.

Next time I’ll let myself stay where it’s good. Because honestly? I’m tired of being the plot twist in my own fairytale.

Keep spilling babes, xx.