Today’s guest post is by the beautiful Laura, she has just started a new blog detailing her adventures of an ordinary girl living in an extraordinary world. You can find her blog here and follow her on twitter here.
I’ve made a decision about myself in recent weeks. I think I’m a commitmentphobe. See there is a case in point I can’t even commit to the idea of being commitment phobic I just think I might be….
The journey that led to this discovery is awash with heart ache, loose morals and wild liaisons so there’s that and the fact that I’ve spent the last 3 years as somebody’s mistress. It’s a lonely existence as your head and heart are tied to a man whose head and heart are tethered elsewhere and as you remain faithful to them (oh the irony) you invite no one else to share you’re bed so you are left with endless expanses of night to muse over your idea of the perfect relationship, arguing with yourself why you are the better option. You get asked how could you trust him if he were to leave her and come to you …simple (and dilussional) your relationship would be perfect, he would have no need or want to stray. It was a hard choice to make breaking off the affair but I knew my happily ever after wasn’t coming, not with him and I was left feeling not quite good enough. So I began salving my wounds with sex, some good some great some absolutely awful (the worst was a man whose toes wiggled in a rather alarming way during a blowjob, and one who was a full on sweater, I’m talking dripping wet and not in a good way) picking my way through an endless array of dates and one nighters where I could pretend for that brief window that I was good enough and I was desirable. There are some that are keen to see me again but I actively seek faults, minor flaws that I suddenly find intolerable, excuses as to why it would never work, so second dates rarely occur. I create a twitter account showcasing my various “charms” in order to gain validation however shallow, the need to feel wanted pulsing through my timeline. I find myself then drawn to married men and they are drawn to me, my commitment phobia like an invisible siren calling them in telling them it’s alright chaps this one is good for it, she won’t get attached! Until one day I met someone, another married man, whose flaws are not excuses but the endearing make up of his character, he makes my heart race and my fanny flutter, he could be my perfection and I can feel it happening again the future of nights waiting for him to get chance to sneak into my bed stretching ahead. I can’t bear it so I push him away. I’d rather have full time of nothing than part time perfection, after all deep down I know I’d never quite be good enough anyway.
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