i think the most appealing aspect of a relationship to me was the idea of safety. throughout my life i hadn't had particularly good experiences with men; whether it be my dads violent outbursts or boys unwanted sexual advances- i didn't trust men, and i constantly felt vulnerable in their presence. and so my attitude towards men changed when i met my first boyfriend, suddenly i felt safe in the arms of a man, i felt untouchable, even when he wasn't there. i grew closer to my dad, my brother became my best friend, i allowed the men in my life to become permanent and meaningful characters within it. how ironic is it that i had lived in fear of men my whole life and suddenly my first experience with the concept of safety was provided to me by none other than a man. i started to trust men.
and i think i hate myself for it. how ridiculous is it that one person can enter my life, kiss my forehead and tell me he loves me and suddenly that wall i've maintained since i was five fucking years old is completely demolished. how can i go from living in a constant state of fear to feeling like i'm invincible because i know i have someone who's willing to protect me. why am i so pathetically reliant on the security net that is a man who loves his partner?
the concept of patriarchy goes so far beyond just being a male dominated society, it's subconsciously a male dependent society too. relationship culture terrifies me. it's even more so terrifying now as an adult, with the added protection bubble of being a minor being so abruptly burst. it's dangerous that relationships with men are so often viewed as the ultimate goal for young women. find someone, anyone. keep a strong hold of them. i should have broken up with my boyfriend the very fucking minute i realised i didn't love him, but i didn't. i couldn't face the shame of having to tell the world i couldn't keep a man tied down for even a year. i couldn't face the world alone.
obviously now he's gone. i was anticipating his departure for a while, preparing myself for it. i realise now that i'd fallen out of love with him quite a while ago, so why did i stay with him? safety. protection. i couldn't stand the idea of being alone. of being vulnerable. i'm disgusted with myself for using someone like that, i'm disgusted with myself for being the kind of person that's so fucking dependent on other people's loyalty and commitment to make them feel like they're something. i'm still a bit of a shell of a human being. my heart doesn't ache for him it aches to be held by someone, anyone. i keep trying to fill the emotional void with men who don't respect me, men that don't care for me, men that make me feel loved and desired while they're kissing me with their hands in my hair but then suddenly i'm bent over with a strangers hands around my neck and i guess it doesn't really feel like love anymore, but at least someone wants me, right? never mind i'm one of six girls they've slept with that week, and it's only fucking wednesday.
i used to spit in the face of this friend i have. they claimed that humans have always and will always be dependent on the approval and affection of other humans. you need a person to survive. like fuck i do. i am my person. i could be alone forever. i am the epitome of independence. i'm also lying through my fucking teeth.
it's okay to fake it for a while until you're put face to face with your abuser or are forced to listen to everyone speak so highly of him because they have no fucking idea what he did to you. you're independent until you're fifteen, drunk and locked in a bathroom at the mercy of a boy that is supposed to be your friend. you can be strong until abuse is thrown at you from a second hand fiesta. you're okay until the men you thought you had tactically chosen and were trustworthy enough to share your body with leave you disgusting voicemails tearing you to shreds at 3am. then you might need someone to care about you. to genuinely care about you.
my now ex boyfriend was at uni for two months, we broke up over the phone. i already felt single again at this point. i was tired. the distance successfully drained all the love out of us. it was an inevitable thing, and i anticipated it, i knew it wasn't forever. but it was still somewhat of a shock. i still fucking loved him. the morning of the day we broke up was fine, we were affectionate. i love you. have a good day. i'm so excited to come home and see you. i miss you. we had a tiny argument at 4pm, and at 8pm he phoned me and said i'm not happy anymore, and i said are you breaking up with me, and he said yes and i said, 'okay' and hung up the phone. i was dangerously calm. i didn't feel anything. blank-faced removing the yellow heart emoji from his name, unfollowing him on every platform of social media, deleting every trace of him from my instagram. putting all the photos on my camera roll into a google drive titled 'thnks fr th mmrs' and then deleting them. unpinning all the polaroids off my wall, removing all the photographs from my portfolios. placing every physical memoir of him into a cardboard shoebox along with the christmas presents i would later regift to my grandfather. all the trinkets, the fortune cookie papers, the train tickets, the postcards, the book pressed petals and sunflower seeds- i then hid that under my bed. and then i went to my mum and broke down.
i forced myself to believe a lie. i'm manipulating my mind into genuinely believing that i'm okay and i'm over him. smile in public cry in private. the day after the breakup i put on my winged eyeliner and straightened my hair and announced myself as single. happy, young, and finally fucking free. shove it in his face. show him how happy i am without him. live a lie and keep it up until it becomes the truth. this worked of course until he genuinely moved on and found genuine happiness and i realised how much of a fucking embarrassment i was. while he had taken his time and found happiness honestly, moving on with his life in a healthy and natural manner. i had chosen to find happiness in gin, and boys on tinder. but for me it was never really about happiness, it was about safety. the boys i slept with and gave my body to provided me with safety. i exchanged intimacy for a few hours of safety. having sex with someone is almost guaranteed to come with warm embraces, being held and sweet kisses. that's all i wanted. i didn't want to have to graft and actively search for someone to have a meaningful relationship with, that could take weeks, months and years. i just wanted instant safety, and sex was a good payment method for this.
it's okay to be alone, it won't last forever. one day you'll be with someone that worships the ground you walk on, it doesn't have to be your first love at seventeen. meaningless sex is only good until you get pregnant, be careful. virginity is a social construct, as is 'body count', sleep with who you want- when you're emotionally ready for it, pick your partners carefully, will they make you a cup of tea and cuddle you afterwards? go for it. are they a tory? maybe reconsider. read books, write books, run a blog, create an outlet. go to the cinema by yourself. watch films, make films. babysit children. visit your grandparents. take up photography. go to shitty alternative nightclubs every saturday and get smashed and dance to paramore all night as if you're thirteen again. don't find a distraction, find an alternative substitute.
and i think i hate myself for it. how ridiculous is it that one person can enter my life, kiss my forehead and tell me he loves me and suddenly that wall i've maintained since i was five fucking years old is completely demolished. how can i go from living in a constant state of fear to feeling like i'm invincible because i know i have someone who's willing to protect me. why am i so pathetically reliant on the security net that is a man who loves his partner?
the concept of patriarchy goes so far beyond just being a male dominated society, it's subconsciously a male dependent society too. relationship culture terrifies me. it's even more so terrifying now as an adult, with the added protection bubble of being a minor being so abruptly burst. it's dangerous that relationships with men are so often viewed as the ultimate goal for young women. find someone, anyone. keep a strong hold of them. i should have broken up with my boyfriend the very fucking minute i realised i didn't love him, but i didn't. i couldn't face the shame of having to tell the world i couldn't keep a man tied down for even a year. i couldn't face the world alone.
obviously now he's gone. i was anticipating his departure for a while, preparing myself for it. i realise now that i'd fallen out of love with him quite a while ago, so why did i stay with him? safety. protection. i couldn't stand the idea of being alone. of being vulnerable. i'm disgusted with myself for using someone like that, i'm disgusted with myself for being the kind of person that's so fucking dependent on other people's loyalty and commitment to make them feel like they're something. i'm still a bit of a shell of a human being. my heart doesn't ache for him it aches to be held by someone, anyone. i keep trying to fill the emotional void with men who don't respect me, men that don't care for me, men that make me feel loved and desired while they're kissing me with their hands in my hair but then suddenly i'm bent over with a strangers hands around my neck and i guess it doesn't really feel like love anymore, but at least someone wants me, right? never mind i'm one of six girls they've slept with that week, and it's only fucking wednesday.
i used to spit in the face of this friend i have. they claimed that humans have always and will always be dependent on the approval and affection of other humans. you need a person to survive. like fuck i do. i am my person. i could be alone forever. i am the epitome of independence. i'm also lying through my fucking teeth.
it's okay to fake it for a while until you're put face to face with your abuser or are forced to listen to everyone speak so highly of him because they have no fucking idea what he did to you. you're independent until you're fifteen, drunk and locked in a bathroom at the mercy of a boy that is supposed to be your friend. you can be strong until abuse is thrown at you from a second hand fiesta. you're okay until the men you thought you had tactically chosen and were trustworthy enough to share your body with leave you disgusting voicemails tearing you to shreds at 3am. then you might need someone to care about you. to genuinely care about you.
my now ex boyfriend was at uni for two months, we broke up over the phone. i already felt single again at this point. i was tired. the distance successfully drained all the love out of us. it was an inevitable thing, and i anticipated it, i knew it wasn't forever. but it was still somewhat of a shock. i still fucking loved him. the morning of the day we broke up was fine, we were affectionate. i love you. have a good day. i'm so excited to come home and see you. i miss you. we had a tiny argument at 4pm, and at 8pm he phoned me and said i'm not happy anymore, and i said are you breaking up with me, and he said yes and i said, 'okay' and hung up the phone. i was dangerously calm. i didn't feel anything. blank-faced removing the yellow heart emoji from his name, unfollowing him on every platform of social media, deleting every trace of him from my instagram. putting all the photos on my camera roll into a google drive titled 'thnks fr th mmrs' and then deleting them. unpinning all the polaroids off my wall, removing all the photographs from my portfolios. placing every physical memoir of him into a cardboard shoebox along with the christmas presents i would later regift to my grandfather. all the trinkets, the fortune cookie papers, the train tickets, the postcards, the book pressed petals and sunflower seeds- i then hid that under my bed. and then i went to my mum and broke down.
i forced myself to believe a lie. i'm manipulating my mind into genuinely believing that i'm okay and i'm over him. smile in public cry in private. the day after the breakup i put on my winged eyeliner and straightened my hair and announced myself as single. happy, young, and finally fucking free. shove it in his face. show him how happy i am without him. live a lie and keep it up until it becomes the truth. this worked of course until he genuinely moved on and found genuine happiness and i realised how much of a fucking embarrassment i was. while he had taken his time and found happiness honestly, moving on with his life in a healthy and natural manner. i had chosen to find happiness in gin, and boys on tinder. but for me it was never really about happiness, it was about safety. the boys i slept with and gave my body to provided me with safety. i exchanged intimacy for a few hours of safety. having sex with someone is almost guaranteed to come with warm embraces, being held and sweet kisses. that's all i wanted. i didn't want to have to graft and actively search for someone to have a meaningful relationship with, that could take weeks, months and years. i just wanted instant safety, and sex was a good payment method for this.
it's okay to be alone, it won't last forever. one day you'll be with someone that worships the ground you walk on, it doesn't have to be your first love at seventeen. meaningless sex is only good until you get pregnant, be careful. virginity is a social construct, as is 'body count', sleep with who you want- when you're emotionally ready for it, pick your partners carefully, will they make you a cup of tea and cuddle you afterwards? go for it. are they a tory? maybe reconsider. read books, write books, run a blog, create an outlet. go to the cinema by yourself. watch films, make films. babysit children. visit your grandparents. take up photography. go to shitty alternative nightclubs every saturday and get smashed and dance to paramore all night as if you're thirteen again. don't find a distraction, find an alternative substitute.
i'm fortunate to have such marvellous and intelligent friends. today, albeit against my will, i was subjected to some pretty in depth psychoanalysis. and for the record, if you're reading this, i know you were hiding that from me for a while, but don't feel bad. anyway. my honorary big brothers put a very swift end to my fuckery, to my friends with benefits experimental experiences. they removed my mask and demanded me to cut the bullshit. i'm not completely over my ex and that's okay. i don't have closure, i have unanswered questions. and that's okay. what's not okay is chipping away at my own psychological wellbeing for the sake of a few minutes of safety. already, after only three sexual partners besides losing my virginity to my boyfriend, i have become a heartless bitch. i used to look at a boy and catch feelings, now i can sleep with someone every night no problem and feel nothing. i don't think that's normal. while yes, 'catch flights not feelings' is something i think we all aspire to achieve. i don't want to be immune to love, i don't want to feel this lost forever. now is time to trade in intimacy and focus on how i can provide myself with safety.
i don't need a man to make me feel secure.
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