The other night, in typical single girl fashion, I was sprawled out across the sofa watching Sex And The City. The episode was centred on the idea of dating ‘patterns’, how we all have them, and how hard they are to break. Obviously this prompted a ‘thought provoking’ question from Carrie:
Are we all, in fact, just dating the same person over and over again?
I don’t think the writers dug too deep with this one as it’s fairly obvious. But hey, here I am writing about it, too. Essentially, everyone has a type. In my mind, my type is tall, dark and handsome – like Superman.
In reality, however, my type is cunts; just the most awful people I could possibly find. I’m drawn to them like a hipster to a beanie. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking typical cool, bad boy sort of guy here – there is nothing cool about the boys I get involved with. They’re just straight up bad people.
And because it’s my pattern, and everybody knows it, it has been analysed during girl chats a fair few times. This has come up more than once…
Now, I don’t like to think of this as true in regards to myself. Mainly because it makes me look a little bit pathetic and like I don’t think I deserve to be treated nicely. Maybe I don’t. I don’t know. I’m not that in tune with my feelings.
I think it’s more likely that I’m just a glutton for punishment. I put myself in a position to be hurt over and over again by the same type of person, if not the same person themselves. And I make it so easy for them. I line myself up in front of the target board, move it a few feet closer, and become a fucking sitting duck. Just waiting for them to take a shot. My vital organs practically begging to accommodate their bullets.
If you’re a regular reader, you may know that the most recent major antagonist in my life story is W. We still snapchat. We still whatsapp. He’s still a cunt. I still let him be a cunt to me. Every interaction ends in me being upset or angry – predominantly angry, though. There have been a fair few of these incidents recently, though I don’t want to get into them as I like to look the least pathetic and lame I possibly can. Just know that none went well, and that my point is that I knew that they wouldn’t. Every time I reply or instigate a message or a snapchat, I know that it’ll end badly. End badly for me, that is. He couldn’t give a fuck. It leads to a lot of feeling like this…
Sometimes I think I’m breaking the pattern. I’ll go on a date with a nice boy who’s polite and doesn’t make it an aim to try to make me cry. And then I’ll never text him again and text one of the boys who’s rude to me instead.
If you have the answer, please don’t hesitate to enlighten me. In the mean time, though, I don’t see anything changing. I think I’m just waiting for this…
Aren’t we all, though?