Sunday, 29 March 2009
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Acquiring the Taste
3 months ago I met a guy.
Let's call him The Gentle. We met at a friend's party. I sat at a table with a couple of friends when he came over, placed himself across from me, and started talking to me. "What a dork!" were my first thoughts, but then I realized how much courage it takes to just sit down at a table with 5 strangers and start talking to one of them. Moreover he was really nice and so it didn't take too long for us to click. I completely fell for his eyes, they are so unbelievably calm and peaceful. One by one my friends left the table, we talked for the rest of the night, and shared an incredible lot of "Me too!" moments. He's 38 years old, very tall, and definitely not the type of guy I usually go for. He could very well use a new haircut and a makeover clothes-wise, he's neither athletic nor very outdoorsy, but rather skinny and a bit of a weirdo. But his eyes...
We got in touch over Facebook and he invited me to go to a theatre play with him. I don't remember much of the play, but I do remember an incredible warmth between us. During all of the play our bodies were in contact, we either had our knees together or the ellbows. Neither of us was aware of this, it just happened. The radiation was so comforting and magnetic, we simply HAD to touch each other. For me this was especially abnormal, because I usually have a major problem with touching other people, I can never bear to be in such close contact with someone else. But with him... it's different. I crave for his touch, his warmth, his energy.
I asked him to come to a party at my house 10 days later. We stuck together talking for most of the evening and ended up drunk on the sofa, curled up with each other. He started caressing and stroking me in a way I could never have imagined. It was slow and tender and mellow and ... gentle. He explored every inch of my body with his fingers and hold me tight in his arms for the whole night. It was sheer happiness.
The next morning was strange. As soon as we've left my bed, he had built a dark wall around himself. There was no intimacy, no contact, no closeness. I just couldn't get through.
And it remained like this...
We've been dating at irregular intervals for the past 3 months, he's slept over for a few times, and it's still the same. Whenever we meet, there's an incredibly huge distance between us, no touching, no kissing, no "couple behaviour". But as soon as we're in bed, he performs a spectacular u-turn --- every time. And everything turns into sheer happiness again.
I don't know where this is going to lead. Sometimes I hate him, sometimes he drives me to despair, but most of the times ... I love him.
Let's call him The Gentle. We met at a friend's party. I sat at a table with a couple of friends when he came over, placed himself across from me, and started talking to me. "What a dork!" were my first thoughts, but then I realized how much courage it takes to just sit down at a table with 5 strangers and start talking to one of them. Moreover he was really nice and so it didn't take too long for us to click. I completely fell for his eyes, they are so unbelievably calm and peaceful. One by one my friends left the table, we talked for the rest of the night, and shared an incredible lot of "Me too!" moments. He's 38 years old, very tall, and definitely not the type of guy I usually go for. He could very well use a new haircut and a makeover clothes-wise, he's neither athletic nor very outdoorsy, but rather skinny and a bit of a weirdo. But his eyes...
We got in touch over Facebook and he invited me to go to a theatre play with him. I don't remember much of the play, but I do remember an incredible warmth between us. During all of the play our bodies were in contact, we either had our knees together or the ellbows. Neither of us was aware of this, it just happened. The radiation was so comforting and magnetic, we simply HAD to touch each other. For me this was especially abnormal, because I usually have a major problem with touching other people, I can never bear to be in such close contact with someone else. But with him... it's different. I crave for his touch, his warmth, his energy.
I asked him to come to a party at my house 10 days later. We stuck together talking for most of the evening and ended up drunk on the sofa, curled up with each other. He started caressing and stroking me in a way I could never have imagined. It was slow and tender and mellow and ... gentle. He explored every inch of my body with his fingers and hold me tight in his arms for the whole night. It was sheer happiness.
The next morning was strange. As soon as we've left my bed, he had built a dark wall around himself. There was no intimacy, no contact, no closeness. I just couldn't get through.
And it remained like this...
We've been dating at irregular intervals for the past 3 months, he's slept over for a few times, and it's still the same. Whenever we meet, there's an incredibly huge distance between us, no touching, no kissing, no "couple behaviour". But as soon as we're in bed, he performs a spectacular u-turn --- every time. And everything turns into sheer happiness again.
I don't know where this is going to lead. Sometimes I hate him, sometimes he drives me to despair, but most of the times ... I love him.
Saturday, 4 October 2008
Kind of Blue
I'm still alive. I've finished university in spring and had to start with a job way earlier than I had initially planned. Thus I also had to abandon the plan for my climbing trip after the exams. Dreaming about this trip was the only thing which kept me going during all those months of studying for the finals. And I had to give it up. For a fucking job. It hurts.
I'm so tired. So incredibly tired. The job sucks all the energy from me, I can neither do any sports nor anything else except eating and sleeping. And I EAT. As always. My only comfort. I can't fight anymore.
I'm so tired. So incredibly tired. The job sucks all the energy from me, I can neither do any sports nor anything else except eating and sleeping. And I EAT. As always. My only comfort. I can't fight anymore.
Monday, 5 May 2008
Saturday, 3 May 2008
Into Thin Air
For me Pick-Up is like Pandora's box. More than a year ago I've already opened it once and now I can't keep the ghosts inside anymore. I'll graduate from school in a few days and afterwards I'll go straight to base camp with Mystery (YES. I KNOW it's supposed to be for GUYS. But who says a girl can't strengthen her Inner Game also?). I have a free summer ahead to work on myself and if this is the only way to improve my social skills and become the woman I want to be, I'm willing to give it a go.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, ... and Spring
I hate spring. Couples, couples, couples - everywhere!! They all seem to scream "Look! How happy we are! What fun activities we do together!". I hate hate hate it!
(When I woke up this morning, a thirty-something couple was cycling past my window. On a TANDEM!)
(When I woke up this morning, a thirty-something couple was cycling past my window. On a TANDEM!)
Saturday, 29 March 2008
From Russia With Love. #1
I'll not only entertain you with theories about my singledom, but also with stories about the different men I've encountered over the years who were sort of significant in my life. Here we go, yet another story from my box of unsuccessful experiences with guys.
Last winter I had signed up for a snowboarding camp in the mountains. I couldn't find a friend willing to come along with, so I was meant to go alone. (See? Progress here! These days I don't give a damn if I have to do such things without company. I'll be fine. I'll have fun.) A few days before the camp started another participant - let's refer to him as The Russian - gave me a call and asked if we could car pool.
I picked him up early that Saturday morning and right at the first glance there was some sort of sexual tension between us. Normally I have absolutely no antenna for such vibes, but the tension was so strong even I noticed it. I even remember him mumbling "Wow!" when our eyes first met. The Russian was a tiny little bit smaller than me, broad-shouldered and muscular, not particularly handsome, but very masculine, not a man, but a MAN (say that out loud with a shiver going down your back). Since it was a 3-hour-drive to get to the camp, we had a lot of time for small talk and I ended up finding him more and more attractive. He turned out to match almost exactly the type of guy I've always been looking for. In his early thirties, a software engineer, laid-back, relaxed, into all the outdoorsy things I like (snowboarding, climbing, surfing), big smile, pleasant, courteous, but not a wimp, taking charge of things, energetic. We almost instantly clicked.
We spent the day - mostly together - at the camp and bought some beer and red wine for the evening. The only club in the village was to open later that night, so we took the booze and hiked up one of the smaller hills in the dark. It was an incredibly intense experience: the stars and the moon above the snow-covered summits, the personal talk. I half expected him to kiss me right on the spot. He didn't - yet - and the tension became almost unbearably. There must have been sparks flying everywhere!
We finally decided to check out the club, and it was on our way down to the village that a suspicion crossed my mind for the first time: The Russian had to be a either a genuine Pick-Up Artist or a real good Natural! At that time I used to read a lot of PU stuff (and fantasized if it would work for women also), and he used a PU specific routine which pricked my ears. It was just too perfect... not that I would have cared. Play with the player!
I was already pretty drunk, and shortly after arriving at the club we were smooching heavily. I don't recall how it exactly started, he just grabbed me, kissed me, and there we went. Internet, this was magic. Oh. My. Dear. Goodness. I cannot describe in words how awesome it felt to finally have a man touching my body again after years of abstinence! Water for the desert! Food for the starved!
Between all the wild kissing and touching there was one particular conversation I remember almost word by word: We were making out madly, people were staring at us, and I must have become slightly hesitant and disconnected just a little bit. He instantly noticed and asked "You're alright? ... Wait, you have a boyfriend, haven't you?". I denied (of course!) and instead asked him if he was attached. And he answered: "I've been seeing someone for 3 weeks."
Bummer!! I was startled at first, but yet another thought kept forming in my sozzled mind: "Ok, he's seeing someone. But he's making out with me right now. If he's making out with someone else after only 3 weeks, the other thing can't be anything serious, right? RIGHT?!" ...And there we went again. Hello disaster.
After some time, some drinking, some dancing, some kissing, and some more PU routines I recognized, we eventually went back to the hotel (the bar people would have thrown us out anyway sooner or later for violation of public policy). And that was when I finally got it why my grandma always warned me: Never leave the house in rags! You could meet the father of your future children! Yeah, right. At that time of my life I had completely given up the hope to ever attract a guy again, and accordingly was my condition. I kid you not: I wore light blue grannie underpants, a jogging bra, and had neither shaved my legs nor my lady parts in weeks. Sexy! Obviously The Russian didn't mind my scratchy legs, however I'll spare you the details of what followed: It included taking all our clothes off and rolling around on the mattress. We didn't fuck (I kept teasing him with "No, we can't fuck. We still have to go snowboarding together!"), but it was hot nonetheless and this even though I'm VERY unexperienced and had no clue what I was doing. I was already falling for him.
When we woke up the next morning, I almost instantly noticed a new distance that had appeared between us. It was not this kind of "I've touched your boy toys and can't look in your eyes without blushing", it was different. The distance grew bigger throughout the day, at first I still tried to reconnect with him, I wanted to hug him and touch him and kiss him, but he had turned into an icy wall. You could tell he had his mind elsewhere. I eventually gave up and enjoyed the snowboarding instead.
Back in the car on our way home to town we talked insignificant stuff (awkward!). All of a sudden, in mid-sentence, he said:
"There's something you have to know. I've been married for more than 10 years and have 2 kids."
I couldn't decide whether I should first get a heart attack and then drive the car into the trench or the other way round. My world collapsed. My ears buzzed. Tears flooded my eyes. My stomach hurt. I almost hyperventilated. All hopes of - maybe! finally! - overcoming my years of singledom were smashed with a sentence.
He let go all of his cool player's barricades and told me everything I did not want to know. It turned out that his marriage was ruined, he had moved out already several months ago, it was all one big catastrophe. 3 weeks before we met they had decided to give it yet another try "because of the kids". Blahblahblah.
The drive back included probably a few of the worst hours of my lifetime. He kept talking and talking about personal stuff, things I didn't want to hear. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to throw him out of the car. I just wanted him to stop. But again I was too weak to follow my real feelings. I played the nice girl (etiquette!) instead of turning into a screaming and raging bitch. I wanted to slap him in the face, but instead kept smiling and nodding. Story of my lifetime. And not only I wasn't strong enough to make him shut the fuck up, we also ended up in a traffic jam and the drive took almost twice as long. Lucky bastard that I am!
Last winter I had signed up for a snowboarding camp in the mountains. I couldn't find a friend willing to come along with, so I was meant to go alone. (See? Progress here! These days I don't give a damn if I have to do such things without company. I'll be fine. I'll have fun.) A few days before the camp started another participant - let's refer to him as The Russian - gave me a call and asked if we could car pool.
I picked him up early that Saturday morning and right at the first glance there was some sort of sexual tension between us. Normally I have absolutely no antenna for such vibes, but the tension was so strong even I noticed it. I even remember him mumbling "Wow!" when our eyes first met. The Russian was a tiny little bit smaller than me, broad-shouldered and muscular, not particularly handsome, but very masculine, not a man, but a MAN (say that out loud with a shiver going down your back). Since it was a 3-hour-drive to get to the camp, we had a lot of time for small talk and I ended up finding him more and more attractive. He turned out to match almost exactly the type of guy I've always been looking for. In his early thirties, a software engineer, laid-back, relaxed, into all the outdoorsy things I like (snowboarding, climbing, surfing), big smile, pleasant, courteous, but not a wimp, taking charge of things, energetic. We almost instantly clicked.
We spent the day - mostly together - at the camp and bought some beer and red wine for the evening. The only club in the village was to open later that night, so we took the booze and hiked up one of the smaller hills in the dark. It was an incredibly intense experience: the stars and the moon above the snow-covered summits, the personal talk. I half expected him to kiss me right on the spot. He didn't - yet - and the tension became almost unbearably. There must have been sparks flying everywhere!
We finally decided to check out the club, and it was on our way down to the village that a suspicion crossed my mind for the first time: The Russian had to be a either a genuine Pick-Up Artist or a real good Natural! At that time I used to read a lot of PU stuff (and fantasized if it would work for women also), and he used a PU specific routine which pricked my ears. It was just too perfect... not that I would have cared. Play with the player!
I was already pretty drunk, and shortly after arriving at the club we were smooching heavily. I don't recall how it exactly started, he just grabbed me, kissed me, and there we went. Internet, this was magic. Oh. My. Dear. Goodness. I cannot describe in words how awesome it felt to finally have a man touching my body again after years of abstinence! Water for the desert! Food for the starved!
Between all the wild kissing and touching there was one particular conversation I remember almost word by word: We were making out madly, people were staring at us, and I must have become slightly hesitant and disconnected just a little bit. He instantly noticed and asked "You're alright? ... Wait, you have a boyfriend, haven't you?". I denied (of course!) and instead asked him if he was attached. And he answered: "I've been seeing someone for 3 weeks."
Bummer!! I was startled at first, but yet another thought kept forming in my sozzled mind: "Ok, he's seeing someone. But he's making out with me right now. If he's making out with someone else after only 3 weeks, the other thing can't be anything serious, right? RIGHT?!" ...And there we went again. Hello disaster.
After some time, some drinking, some dancing, some kissing, and some more PU routines I recognized, we eventually went back to the hotel (the bar people would have thrown us out anyway sooner or later for violation of public policy). And that was when I finally got it why my grandma always warned me: Never leave the house in rags! You could meet the father of your future children! Yeah, right. At that time of my life I had completely given up the hope to ever attract a guy again, and accordingly was my condition. I kid you not: I wore light blue grannie underpants, a jogging bra, and had neither shaved my legs nor my lady parts in weeks. Sexy! Obviously The Russian didn't mind my scratchy legs, however I'll spare you the details of what followed: It included taking all our clothes off and rolling around on the mattress. We didn't fuck (I kept teasing him with "No, we can't fuck. We still have to go snowboarding together!"), but it was hot nonetheless and this even though I'm VERY unexperienced and had no clue what I was doing. I was already falling for him.
When we woke up the next morning, I almost instantly noticed a new distance that had appeared between us. It was not this kind of "I've touched your boy toys and can't look in your eyes without blushing", it was different. The distance grew bigger throughout the day, at first I still tried to reconnect with him, I wanted to hug him and touch him and kiss him, but he had turned into an icy wall. You could tell he had his mind elsewhere. I eventually gave up and enjoyed the snowboarding instead.
Back in the car on our way home to town we talked insignificant stuff (awkward!). All of a sudden, in mid-sentence, he said:
"There's something you have to know. I've been married for more than 10 years and have 2 kids."
I couldn't decide whether I should first get a heart attack and then drive the car into the trench or the other way round. My world collapsed. My ears buzzed. Tears flooded my eyes. My stomach hurt. I almost hyperventilated. All hopes of - maybe! finally! - overcoming my years of singledom were smashed with a sentence.
He let go all of his cool player's barricades and told me everything I did not want to know. It turned out that his marriage was ruined, he had moved out already several months ago, it was all one big catastrophe. 3 weeks before we met they had decided to give it yet another try "because of the kids". Blahblahblah.
The drive back included probably a few of the worst hours of my lifetime. He kept talking and talking about personal stuff, things I didn't want to hear. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to throw him out of the car. I just wanted him to stop. But again I was too weak to follow my real feelings. I played the nice girl (etiquette!) instead of turning into a screaming and raging bitch. I wanted to slap him in the face, but instead kept smiling and nodding. Story of my lifetime. And not only I wasn't strong enough to make him shut the fuck up, we also ended up in a traffic jam and the drive took almost twice as long. Lucky bastard that I am!
Friday, 28 March 2008
Rhymes and Reasons. #1 - The Fat
From time to time I plan to entertain you with my thoughts and theories about why I'm still single. The whole thing is complex, so there'll be lots to talk about.
Let's face it: I'm fat. My BMI as of today is 32.72, which is not just overweight, but simply FAT. However, I have friends who are way fatter than me, and still they have boyfriends, so it can't be just the fat, can it? Of course it's not the fat itself which keeps me away from a relationship, it's the issues that come with being fat. It's the wall I built around my inner self which articulates itself in my fat body.
My weight has been troubling me for as long as I can think. Already during kindergarten I regarded myself as fat. I don't know where this idea came from, definitely not from my parents or my friends. It was only 4 or 5 years ago that I looked at old photographs and came to realize that I was COMPLETELY NORMAL at that young age. This realization made me cry my eyes out! Of course I've never been a petite little girl; I've always been taller than everybody else and had an athletic body, I did lots of sports and liked jeans better than fancy pink dresses - but at least I wasn't fat as a kid.
It must have been around the age of 9 or 10 that I started developping a serious eating disorder. I had no self-confidence (after all, in my mind I was still the fatty from kindergarten), I was a bit nerdy, I was top of the class, I got boobs pretty early, plus I had red hair and freckles, so a few kids from my class started teasing me. It was just teasing like children tease each other from time to time, not too bad, but it hurt my soul deeply. I desperately looked for some comfort and finally found it - in binging chocolate and ice-cream.
The following years alternated between binging and dieting, my body continuously putting on more and more weight (hello yo-yo effect!). Puberty was especially traumatizing, and I was so hopeless about my weight that I sometimes wouldn't ingest anything but caffe latte and diet coke - for weeks! I was especially desperate before I moved away for university. This was going to be a completely new part of my life and I didn't want to be labelled as "that fat girl" right from the start. So I didn't eat for 3 months in a row and finally ended up in hospital with a life-threatening pancreatitis. Due to the lack of food my pancreas had decided to digest itself. To this day NOBODY, not even my parents, knows that this was caused by 3 months of fasting. Yeah, in case you've wondered: I DO have an eating disorder.
I reached my highest weight (BMI 42.8! A monster!!) during a phase of depression in my early twenties which was so bad that I needed therapy. Luckily my then therapist did the only right thing to save me and sent me to Weight Watchers. A completely new life began, I re-learned eating, started sports again, overcame big parts of my self-consciousness, and finally shed some pounds. I've been doing Weight Watchers ever since for the past 4 years and dare to say that this turned my life upside-down: I've changed EVERYTHING! I made new friends, reconnected with old ones, discovered new sports (running! rock climbing! cross country skiing! mountaineering! swimming!), lost my fear of approaching people, am generally more open, eat healthy, and learn to enjoy my life. I can honestly say I'm a happy person now.
So why am I still fat?! Good question, Watson. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get my weight into a healthy, slim range. I've tried everything: more sports, less sports, more fiber, more protein, less fruit, less fiber, not weighing in, ... everything. But as soon as I get close to a magic number, a switch in my head flips, my fatty mind tells me in that Darth Vader voice: "You are nothing. You don't deserve to be slim." And I obey and remember my old habits and binge.
I simply cannot take the risk to lose even more of that magic fat wall which I've built around my soul. If there wouldn't be that wall, someday someone (a guy maybe?) could get close. And this would scare the holy bejesus out of me.
Let's face it: I'm fat. My BMI as of today is 32.72, which is not just overweight, but simply FAT. However, I have friends who are way fatter than me, and still they have boyfriends, so it can't be just the fat, can it? Of course it's not the fat itself which keeps me away from a relationship, it's the issues that come with being fat. It's the wall I built around my inner self which articulates itself in my fat body.
My weight has been troubling me for as long as I can think. Already during kindergarten I regarded myself as fat. I don't know where this idea came from, definitely not from my parents or my friends. It was only 4 or 5 years ago that I looked at old photographs and came to realize that I was COMPLETELY NORMAL at that young age. This realization made me cry my eyes out! Of course I've never been a petite little girl; I've always been taller than everybody else and had an athletic body, I did lots of sports and liked jeans better than fancy pink dresses - but at least I wasn't fat as a kid.
It must have been around the age of 9 or 10 that I started developping a serious eating disorder. I had no self-confidence (after all, in my mind I was still the fatty from kindergarten), I was a bit nerdy, I was top of the class, I got boobs pretty early, plus I had red hair and freckles, so a few kids from my class started teasing me. It was just teasing like children tease each other from time to time, not too bad, but it hurt my soul deeply. I desperately looked for some comfort and finally found it - in binging chocolate and ice-cream.
The following years alternated between binging and dieting, my body continuously putting on more and more weight (hello yo-yo effect!). Puberty was especially traumatizing, and I was so hopeless about my weight that I sometimes wouldn't ingest anything but caffe latte and diet coke - for weeks! I was especially desperate before I moved away for university. This was going to be a completely new part of my life and I didn't want to be labelled as "that fat girl" right from the start. So I didn't eat for 3 months in a row and finally ended up in hospital with a life-threatening pancreatitis. Due to the lack of food my pancreas had decided to digest itself. To this day NOBODY, not even my parents, knows that this was caused by 3 months of fasting. Yeah, in case you've wondered: I DO have an eating disorder.
I reached my highest weight (BMI 42.8! A monster!!) during a phase of depression in my early twenties which was so bad that I needed therapy. Luckily my then therapist did the only right thing to save me and sent me to Weight Watchers. A completely new life began, I re-learned eating, started sports again, overcame big parts of my self-consciousness, and finally shed some pounds. I've been doing Weight Watchers ever since for the past 4 years and dare to say that this turned my life upside-down: I've changed EVERYTHING! I made new friends, reconnected with old ones, discovered new sports (running! rock climbing! cross country skiing! mountaineering! swimming!), lost my fear of approaching people, am generally more open, eat healthy, and learn to enjoy my life. I can honestly say I'm a happy person now.
So why am I still fat?! Good question, Watson. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get my weight into a healthy, slim range. I've tried everything: more sports, less sports, more fiber, more protein, less fruit, less fiber, not weighing in, ... everything. But as soon as I get close to a magic number, a switch in my head flips, my fatty mind tells me in that Darth Vader voice: "You are nothing. You don't deserve to be slim." And I obey and remember my old habits and binge.
I simply cannot take the risk to lose even more of that magic fat wall which I've built around my soul. If there wouldn't be that wall, someday someone (a guy maybe?) could get close. And this would scare the holy bejesus out of me.
Call Me by Your Name
This is insane. The sentences keep flooding to my mind, I've outlined the next 5 posts already and can't wait to get them typed.
First of all I'd like to tell you how I've come up with my screen name. I've recently discovered The Over-Educated Nympho and found this quiz Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You? in one of her early 2005 posts. Of course I had to take it (I'm a girl!) and coincidentally ended up with the same result as The Nympho: The Fighter Femme.
I don't plan to overestimate this stupid little quiz, but it's no surprise that The Nympho and I both got the same result. Maybe that resembles the two extremes of the warrioress: one a nympho, one an incel. There's a fine line between genius and insanity.
First of all I'd like to tell you how I've come up with my screen name. I've recently discovered The Over-Educated Nympho and found this quiz Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You? in one of her early 2005 posts. Of course I had to take it (I'm a girl!) and coincidentally ended up with the same result as The Nympho: The Fighter Femme.
I don't plan to overestimate this stupid little quiz, but it's no surprise that The Nympho and I both got the same result. Maybe that resembles the two extremes of the warrioress: one a nympho, one an incel. There's a fine line between genius and insanity.
Long Hello & Short Goodbye
So I guess I'm supposed to say something witty. After all, this is my first entry, my first blog ever, and I'm not going to write about what I had for lunch yesterday. This is the tough stuff here. I recently came across Queen Virgin's blog and she mentioned the self-therapeutic value of writing, so I thought I'd give it a try myself.
I'm 28 years old and never had a boyfriend. I've kissed a few guys, had sex 3 times, but apart from that - nothing. I almost never get approached by men. It's like I have a virtual sign floating over my head which reads "Caution! Will bite your balls off!". My family is convinced that I am (must be!) a lesbian and waits eagerly for the day of my coming out. A few close friends know about my incel status (since we've been growing up together since kindergarten there was no way to avoid them knowing), but it's never a topic in our conversations. When it comes to not-so-close friends or new acquaintances, I usually make up a boyfriend or two in the past and never go too much into details.
It kills me not knowing why it is me. Why the fuck ME?! What did I do to deserve this? It makes me so angry, I want to scream from deep, deep inside. It's just so damn painful.
This blog is going to be about the fight to finally overcome my fears and finally find love.
I'm 28 years old and never had a boyfriend. I've kissed a few guys, had sex 3 times, but apart from that - nothing. I almost never get approached by men. It's like I have a virtual sign floating over my head which reads "Caution! Will bite your balls off!". My family is convinced that I am (must be!) a lesbian and waits eagerly for the day of my coming out. A few close friends know about my incel status (since we've been growing up together since kindergarten there was no way to avoid them knowing), but it's never a topic in our conversations. When it comes to not-so-close friends or new acquaintances, I usually make up a boyfriend or two in the past and never go too much into details.
It kills me not knowing why it is me. Why the fuck ME?! What did I do to deserve this? It makes me so angry, I want to scream from deep, deep inside. It's just so damn painful.
This blog is going to be about the fight to finally overcome my fears and finally find love.
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