Men Who Don’t

There are men who don’t.

There are men who don’t go to strip clubs.

There are men who don’t sit around and wack off to porn.

There are men who don’t buy prostitutes because they know the lie isn’t worth any price.

There are men who want to be with someone and love that person and don’t find a room full of oggling, groping men and desperate, damaged, conniving women out to take all their money to be any sort of turn on.

At least, there are men who say they don’t.

He said he didn’t.

He just lied.

Why can’t I find one of those?  Why can’t I find someone who treats me with respect even when I am not around?  Who holds me in their mind and heart with equal joy?  Who loves me as much as I try to love them?  Who isn’t out to destroy anyone and everyone just because they hate everyone and everything and don’t give a damn if they self destruct and who they take with them into hell?

What is wrong with me that I attract and stay with men who treat me with such hate?  I really don’t think I hate other people that much.  I really don’t think I treated him with such disrespect or lack of care.  I know I treated him well when he wasn’t around.  I know I tried to be good for him.  I know I had angry, resentful thoughts, and I would try to change them because I didn’t want to think about him that way, to treat him that way behind his back.  I tried to be a good friend, lover,and wife.  I tried even when I felt alone and rejected and confused.

There are men who don’t.

But the man I loved did. 

Over and over and over he did.

Gods, it makes my skin crawl blue horror.

And then he pretended to give a damn about me.

But he didn’t.




There are men who don’t love. 

And there are men who don’t give a damn about anyone else, or their word, or another person.

Gods, I hurt.  I hurt.  I hurt.

What did I do wrong??????

Why do I have to be so hurt?????

Why couldn’t I find someone who really cares about me???

Something clean and enriching and loving and caring and stays that way, even mostly?

I know what my fantasy was, now.  There are men who end up with cruel, cheating women.  There are women who end up with cruel, cheating men.  I wondered why those two, the good men and women, don’t end up getting together and being faithful with each other.  Learn how to take care of each other’s hearts.  Give each other the love they had tried to give to someone who didn’t love them back.  To deserve to receive the love.  Devoted.  Caring.  Wounded and looking for so much better, offering so much better, open to so much better.  To finally having something real.

That is what I thought I was getting.  I wonder how much of his previous marriage he lied to me about to make me think that was what he had to offer.

That must be the fantasy.  Those faithful men and women don’t recognize each other.  We are all so damaged that we only understand how to feel ‘right’ with someone who will destroy us one more time.  It is possible that someone in the relationship will always fall down and cheat on the other.  It is doomed to become unbalanced.  I don’t really think that is true, though.

But what the hell do I know?  I only get cheaters and liars and people willing to abuse me.  I guess that is the only thing I have ever known.  I guess I didn’t realize how bad my childhood must have been to set me up for this kind of constant abuse.  How stupid and gullible I am.  That giant ‘KICK ME’ sign squarely on my forehead.  To stand up for myself and be with someone who really cared.

I thought I had come so far to never be with another abusive man again.

There are men who don’t.

I don’t know those men.

I should stop reading about what makes a good relationship.  I should stop trying to understand why.  It doesn’t matter.  None of it matters.  What’s done is done.  There is no going back.  There is no one to make me feel sexy and loved and sensual again, because just the thought is like torture.  I try to get close, and it rips me apart, like a bath in scalding water.  Pain, pain, pain, to open up ever again.  Why do I keep trying?  Why do I keep hurting myself by trying to understand, by trying to reach out, by trying to open my heart?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

15 more minutes.

I feel so small and scared.

Sex hurts.  Sex always hurts.  Sex will always hurt.  They might as well just beat me and fuck me and be done with it.  Sex will always hurt so badly now.  Sex is dirty and disgusting and cruel and just another way for someone to abuse me and take power and show how much they hate you even while they say they love you.  If you can’t beat em, join em, and sink sink sink I am drowning in the pain.

Is this what I am reenacting?  Is this what someone did to me?  This is what was done to me.  This is how I feel.  Why can’t I just let it go?  Because I am staying.  Because I have to face it every day.  I don’t know how.  I don’t know why.  I don’t know anything. 

I hate sex.  I hate him.  I hate the word love.  I hate wishing to be loved.  I hate not walking away.  I hate the pain.  I hate women.  I hate men.  I hate life.  I hate patience.  I hate virtue.  I hate me.  I hate crying every single goddamned day.

I hate hating.

There are men who don’t.



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