On the nature of love

When I was 18, I was a really troubled kid, with bulimia and whatnot. I fell really hard for a very good looking, 25 years old guy who worked as a receptionist in the office building next to my high school. I sometimes went over after school to see him. We had some interesting conversations and there was always sexual tension but nothing really happened. He dated 2 or 3 girls at the same time, all of them pretty and mostly older than me. My insignificance felt overwhelming. At one point he let me blow him. Yes, now I see how sick that is, but at the time I was happy with it, and to be honest expected some kind of return (in kind). He shouted my name as he came. And that was it. Then I eventually moved away, went to university and a few years later, when he needed a host for a night, I volunteered. We chatted, went out, even had sex, and I was untouched. I also told him I had been madly in love with him. He seemed genuinely surprised. Now he’s married, has a kid and lives in another country, and still, at least on Facebook he supports the government that had made his, our lives so fucked up that we both fled the country. Needless to say, I am disappointed. In both of us, to be honest.

This heartbreak was so hard to get over that I have never really let myself fall for anyone else (this was 13 years ago). I was in relationships, but none of them exceeded a year, most lasted only for a couple of weeks/months. By now I see the pattern, as lately I keep repeating it over and over, as if I were acting out a script.

I always choose partners that adore me (mostly my intellect) and/or whom I consider to be in need of salvation. I have this weird idea that I can save them. Mostly from themselves. I am giving up on this, but I am still sticking with the adoration. I don’t pursue mutual emotions, I just want a safe place. Of course, this drains the other person, at some point they feel emotionally deprived (I am always reactive, when I see they need a hug, I hug them with enthusiasm, but also making it clear that it’s because they need it, not because I want it).

I am frightened by the idea of giving in to emotions, of losing control. When I once did (on a smaller scale, it had happened before, too, and it was always unrequited, I had always thought I was the ugly duckling, unworthy of love), it was devastating, and I never was willing to go back there. I never thought people can love each other with compassion and honesty, and not just to satisfy some egoistic needs. That’s what I saw my parents doing for 40+ years.

Unlearning is fucking hard.