Go Duck Yourself

So whad’ya think, are you ready to grab a bite?
I’m sorry?
No, not ready.
Is something wrong?
No, no. No, everything’s great. You seem great. It’s just..if there’s a strong reason for me to have someone in my life, I’ll fight for them.
And I can already tell, never going to fight for you. Sooo sorry.
We just met.
I know. Sad.

This was a conversation between the leading lady in The Answer Man (cheesy but decent) and a man she just met during their first date.  Coincidentally, I watched it last night after having a talk with someone I have been dating concerning my inability to move forward in our relationship.

I mean, I’ve only been single for a few months. And while meeting and getting to know someone is exciting at first, the new wears off and you’re still left with a broken heart. I’m still licking my wounds to be quite honest. And it’s like, what the fuck!? I kicked him out. Shouldn’t I be moving on by now? Don’t I want to be happy? Yeah. Of course I do. I mean, I think I do, even though my tendencies toward self destruction suggest otherwise. But I also don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not. This is risky business for someone who learned the importance of being pleasing to others and fears the threat of rejection, as well as the fear of being alone.

But what I’m figuring out is that I actually feel less alone when I’m by myself. Because with most people I feel I have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I have to pretend to be happy when I’m not. I have to pretend to know what I’m doing even though I don’t. I have to be pretty at all times and smart and witty at all times. I have to talk when I don’t feel like talking and be interesting and interested when I could really give a shit.

So I won’t pretend any longer. I’m wearing my broken heart on my sleeve and I don’t give a fuck whether it ever gets mended or not. If I’m going to be sad and alone, then I’m going to be the best sad loner anyone has ever seen. I love loners. And I love me (when I’m not busy hating me). Fuck romance and fuck auto correct for making me type duck when I’m clearly trying to say FUCK. I may have already met the only person in my life worth fighting for (aside from the obvious, my kids). And that ship has sailed. So ducky ducky duck duck. If he’s not willing to fight for me and my kids, he can really just go duck himself. But I’m not gonna go around ducking whomever just to fill some void. The void is all that’s real. So is the pain. And no fight is without suffering.


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