When I was married, I thought I was amazing. I mean, I was manic or hypomanic much of the time, so obviously I was amazing. But it’s more than that. I had men everywhere. Falling over themselves to be with me. If only I were single, they’d say. I’d say. If only. I had 3 proposals between the time I got engaged and the day I got married.
I thought I was amazing.
Then I left, thinking I’d be amazing forever.
And I realized, the only men that wanted me were men who would go after a married woman. I mean, yes, it was me they were after and sure, they might have wanted me if I were single. But I wasn’t single, and they still tried.
I didn’t want a man like that. As I realized it, I disappointed them. I was disappointed.
They were placeholders, and I hate it. Some of them knew it; I was safe because I was unattainable and I don’t think it really hurt them to know I wasn’t interested anymore. Some of them just bowed out as I pulled away.
The thing is. I’m a placeholder now. And it sucks, because I know what happens to placeholders.
I feel different than the girl on the side, somehow. Maybe because I’m not getting all that much out of it?
My thesis one day will be about cheating and affairs, I’m sure of it.
I’ve been a placeholder so many times. Just now naming it. You know. I was your placeholder.
I’m just that good at lurking in the darkness. Keeping secrets, being the confidante. Hiding. What is it that makes me keep doing it? Why do I settle for this place? Is it even settling? It can’t be. Somehow I must be seeking it. But why?
So tired of the dark. I want to love in the daylight. I want to BE loved in the daylight. I want to be FRIENDS in the daylight. I spend way too much time censoring names out of my conversations. “My friend.” “This friend.” “This guy I know.” “Oh you don’t know him.”