I'm still pissed. I won't apologize for this. There's one particular character that makes me angrier than the rest. We had a special connection. Just thinking about it makes me want to stab something. So help me god, if I ever run into him...Now, most therapists will tell you that anger won't do you any good. But I disagree. Anger can really motivate a person like nothing else. That's why there's a special category for "crimes of passion."
Most of the time I feel like I will never have a "normal" relationship. Like romance is so far out of my reach that I shouldn't even bother looking for it. Honestly, I went into my marriage that way. It was a relationship built on common goals, interests, and values (or so I thought). I never thought for a moment there was the tiniest flame of romance. And I was ok with that. The best (most functional) previous relationship I had didn't, either. In fact, there's never been a point in any relationship where romance and practicality coexisted. But I ramble...
There is NOTHING like a close relationship built on lies to piss you off and strip away your trust in humanity. I thank Andy and the gang for that. I hate it when people turn to me for advice - especially relationship advice. No, I lie. I don't hate it. I feel very honored. I hate that I always qualify my responses. Things like, "well, I'm no good at relationships, but..." or "I think love is neuron firings meant to help pass on your genes..." or "I don't agree with marriage, but if you insist..." or "I'm paranoid about relationships; however..." It's no fun. What I said is true, that is how I've come to think of love and marriage. It pisses me off. And it makes me sad. I feel like the butterflies and roses were taken from me. I MISS that. I am both happy and fearful for my friends with romantic interests. But I know I am trying to put their experiences through the same meat grinder my own heart went through, and that's not fair. So I sit back with cool, calculated rationale, occasionally checking through the "red flag" list I've compiled.
It's been said I have a wall around my heart. But that simply isn't true. You can't see through a wall. It's more like a frozen heart, kept in bulletproof glass, protected by laser beams, surrounded by electric and barb-wired fence, guarded by Kodiak bears, encircled by a shrieking eel-infested moat, on the other side of a minefield. You can see my heart, but you can't touch it. It's not going anywhere. It's safe.
And yet, there is hope. Because it DOES bother me. I DO want to feel the butterflies and smell the roses.
That's where the anger comes in. It makes me determined to work through my shit. I'll be damned if this perverted asshole is going to have me spend the rest of my life with a little ache inside my heart, wishing I could trust and love again. Yearning for that naive girl who thought there were possibilities to be shared with others. Now, I don't expect to ever marry again. I don't want to ever give up my independence or need anyone. But I want a romance. And god, damn it. I'm going to have it. Maybe not this year, or even in this decade. But I WILL work through this and give my heart away once more.