I let someone that I wasn’t even in love with break my heart. I was dating him for companionship and convenience because it’s nice to be liked and spooned by muscular arms at night.
He never paid for anything and it started to bother me; started to sting that I wasn’t worth a few crumbs out of the paycheck for a decent meal or two. It felt even worse when he began to tell stories of ex girlfriends at restaurants and movies…places we’d never been. He disappeared for a day to a cookout hosted by his father didn’t tell me where he was until after, never invited me.
I began to feel so stupid. This pseudo relationship was turning into a manifestation of my masochistic desire to humiliate myself by latching on to men who would never think very highly of me.
He was a contrary type of guy, loved to argue. I engaged most times only half paying attention, after all I was 30 and he was 24, I knew how pointless it was to live life so disagreeably. I don’t remember what we argued about this time, but I remember finally asking why he never took me out on dates, never paid or sponsored the roll up or shared his weed.
He looked at me and said, “I have for other women just not for you.”
Typing that just now hurt. I cried but I made myself finish typing it because as embarrassing as it is, it is truth. You watch men fall all over some women, shout their love out to the rooftops, pay their bills take care of their babies and you begin to want it so bad. I wanted it and it’s never come to me. I don’t think it will. For whatever reason, in the romantic world my value doesn’t seem to equate to such things…the more I want it the more it slips out of my finger tips
And I realize I will always be the one in the relationship who loves the most. 
I hereby resign from that position

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