Forget an ocean abyss or a YMCA locker room. The modern dating world is one of the most frightening places on the planet. I’ve been banished to this realm for years, wondering if I really did just die and sent to hell for my sins. This current ride has been no different– horrifying, exhilarating, filled with ambiguity.
I guess fearing a nasty end to bout of dating isn’t enough; Now I’ve started fearing the beginning.
I found some writings from the last few months, and the ebb and flow of chaos and serenity is astounding.
“Post raping. Thoughts racing.
What am I doing here, again? Side of the road with my thumb out hoping to catch the ride of my life.
So starved for any affections that i gobble up every drop of cum slung my way and call it ‘intimacy.’
I’m no rape victim. Some of this truly is my fault. Hot whiskey breath and cold fan-blown nights. I consented, even wanted them.
Anything to feel closer to him. Anything to connect like tangled phone cords in a heap on the mattress.
Anything to feel any thing.
Not just thirsty but hungry and willing? Easy prey, my friend.
Anyone can blow their own horn, but nobody is obligated to acknowledge the sweetness of its tune until you’ve learned to play it skillfully.
So, get your life together.
You want respect and dignity? Earn it for yourself. Stop fucking hitch hiking and get your own car. Because you can’t pick a passenger if you’re not in the driver’s seat.”