Two days after that, I saw a former fuck buddy. And the day after, I pulled a guy in a club. Three different guys in the same week, it's my all time record. I had understood it was over, that it had not even started for him, and I wanted to move on. But it wasn't possible and it was all the more pathetic: when I was with these other guys, I was thinking of him.
His behaviour was getting more and more distant. He wasn't well at some point, I tried to comfort him - while trying not to be too annoying - but my attempts failed. Being unable to cheer him up was driving me mad. By the way, it was a very bad idea to have a David Lynch cycle at this moment.
My obsession was so tough that even though I had understood it would never be serious, I still couldn't accept it. I could still imagine a thousand scripts in which he would come back. Oddly enough, I was convinced we would see each other again. And then one day I stopped being delirious and I admitted the obvious: he would not come back. (Yes, it took me some time!) This idea was driving me mad, frustrated, jealous and stuff.
I thought it was the best moment to stop smoking, get back to the gym and to start a diet. I also decided to avoid him for some time, just the time to see whether my obsession would last and what I would decide then. I had three choices:
Ironically, he started to talk me again the first. I had the feeling his messages were ambiguous. Maybe they really were, maybe, once again, I was wrong. I was stumbling into this spiral of absurd questions again... until I understood it would never go beyong these few messages. That day, I took my decision: I would try everything to move on and stop every contact with him. I would call him the day after to let him know.
![[Icon] Open my Twitter page](/img/open.gif){kind=small}
![[Icon] My Twitter feed](/img/feed.gif){kind=small}
Comments
Add a comment