Archive for the 'humiliation' Category

It’s probably me

February 2, 2010

I just skipped over to the former boy’s blog out of curiosity. Almost immediately, I found out he’s moving in with his domme–the one he hooked up with shortly after our thing ended. It’s been about six months.

So he’s moving in with her and thrilled about it, it seems. I still remember standing on that train platform and hearing him bluster about not wanting a relationship, how shocked and sad I felt. And all those times I heard him go on and on and on about how he’s still so devastated from his divorce (which was years ago) that he couldn’t ever let himself get serious about anyone, that he was “broken.”

Bullshit.

He just couldn’t get serious about me. It’s miraculous how his heart healed so soon after we ended.  It took him zero days to get over me because he never gave a shit about me. Not really. He cared about the domme, not the woman. He’s said otherwise, but if he were being honest, I think he’d acknowledge that I was just a convenience for him. A domination-dispensing machine. A nothing. Definitely not even a real ‘friend’.

I’m now thinking that the blusher will probably be at least engaged to this new woman by the end of this year.

That’s what I do. I find men and fix them up for other women. I should start charging for this service.

I can’t believe I keep getting involved with men who have no intention of getting serious with me, who don’t really care about me except as a means towards their own gratification. I’m sure if you asked either of them, the problem was me, just me. Something wrong with me.

And that’s just in the past year, in kinkworld. I haven’t even mentioned the vanilla guy I was involved with prior to meeting the former boy. He was similarly conflicted about our whatever-it-was. He didn’t mind screwing me, but couldn’t bring himself to ask me on a proper date. He began dating someone seriously not long after our whatever-it-was ended.

Not good enough. Nothing. Nobody.

Clearly I should just resign myself to my fate. I’m just a stepping stone, a rest stop, something to play around with until someone better shows up–someone real and worthy. I’m not worthy of love or affection. Hell, even decency and kindness are too good for me. I’m just a domme, just some girl, just a fling, a thing–replaceable, inherently worthless.

Use me, throw me away. It’s fine, boys. I’m used to it. I shouldn’t expect anything better anyhow.

A mistake

September 2, 2009

I thought I was getting past it, but I guess I’m not.

Fuck me, this is going to sound so fucking 2009-pathetic of me, but I briefly checked out the former boy’s Facebook page tonight. That was a mistake. There were pictures of his new domme there and his glowing comments about her. Another reminder of how different our thing was from this.

I am actively trying to find a new boy. I am trying to move on. I don’t know why I can’t. He’s not worth this feeling. I just don’t understand.

If  I could, I would erase the past year. And now I don’t want to do it over. I just want it gone for good.

Dreams and delusions

August 17, 2009

Just read another e-mail from the boy.

I’m ashamed to say I sent him one late last night, telling him that I wanted him to care for me more than he did. That his evident unwillingness to go further than friend, fuck buddy and play partner was eventually what led me to ending it.

Maybe I was hoping he’d write back and say he cared as much for me as I cared for him. Stupid, stupid.

No, I just got another one in which he expresses his guilt but also tries to exculpate himself. He didn’t ‘cheat’ on me by going to her while we were together (we were in an open relationship, so what the fuck does it matter?) Whatever happened just happened, without any planning on his part. He misses me, his ‘friend’.

That’s how he always referred to me. I guess that really was all there was to it.

Angry again. Feeling sick.

He fucked her. He submitted to her. He loved it. She wanted him. She collared him. He’s trying to get me to forgive him, I think. It’s been about four weeks. He’s a fast worker, I’ll give him that.

Nothing else. I told him to stop contacting me. His messages just fuck with me.

Angry now. Crying yet fucking again.  Angry at myself for crying.

Give me some time and I’ll turn it all into a little diamond of hate. I would like to hurt him, badly. But how do you hurt a masochist? I’ll just learn to hate him instead. Or forget him entirely.

The fastest way to stop mooning after someone who doesn’t give a shit about you is to find someone who does. The worst part of this little interlude is that it’s made me even more mistrustful of men. So it will take some doing. Meanwhile, I’m being extremely pathetic, I know.

I just don’t want to spend too many more nights sleeping alone and having unhappy dreams.

The Smiths – “Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me”