I just bumped into someone I never needed to see again. Ever.
Seeing him has wooshed up a huge amount of emotions and a few thoughts.
The main thought being – I feel so used. So fucking used. And I very very rarely have felt used. I am not one of those chicks who pulls the “Used” card after a one-nighter or brief fling, where both people were fully aware of what was really at play. I don’t think I have felt properly used since my brother sat me down and told me the real facts of life. What men will do to get chicks naked and shagging, and why, and what this will mean in which circumstances.
I really did not need to see him again. Did I mention “ever”.
He even had the audacity to mention many other women of his. Right there in a clothing store, between discussing contact lenses and Dubai. And asking but won’t I be restricted by moving back in with my parents. YES! FCKING GOOD! Restricted from bastard using selfish men like him!
This relates back to one of my posts I wrote awhile back. I don’t want you to guess which one. I don’t want you to enquire into what the situation was between us. I just want to vent. Get all this anger and sadness out of me.
So used. So hurt. So disgusted. So disgusting.
He said he’d phone. He had wanted to phone last night. He said he should’ve of, now that he knows I was home alone working. He could have been a distraction. Oh god, please can he just have gotten more desperate and not that I ever fell for such comments of his like that. I probably did.
Do I feel dumb. No. Not anymore. Someone has recently been trying to drill into my head that feeling emotions for someone is not dumb or weak. It is natural and beautiful. It doesn’t feel fucking beautiful. It feels so sore. I would like to punch something. Someone.
Would I like to know I was special to him. Am special to him. He really cared for me. Cares for me. I don’t know.
I know I had choice in the situation. I played a part in all of it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to hurt. I don’t get to feel used. I don’t get to realised he played me. And I played myself. I kidded myself. About what I don’t really know. I knew the reality then. I just hid from it. Seeing him now, as I move on, unleashed everything that’s been prodding my sub-conscious for awhile recently.
Now I really need a drink.
It also doesn’t help that I am exhausted and so very emotional.
Oh god. I really hope he doesn’t phone. Ever.