Callooh_Calais
Drink Milk and Lift
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- Mar 18, 2021
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I've only said 'I love you' to one girl in sincere earnest within the entirety of my life.
Despite the cutest glances, kindest gestures, and even drawing me to make me feel better after a stressful event, It took me almost 11 months to even tell her that I loved her. My reticence wasn't motivated out of some misguided attempt at 'game' or aloofness; but from experience circa when I was around 17 years old, where became rather infatuated with a girl who I fought with quite a bit (though I wouldn't express it to the point of love, she was the first girl in my life who made me feel cared for and not merely attracted to me), which to this day has influenced how I approach relationships since it made me realise how stalkerish, violent behaviour can get out of control.
So when I told her that I loved her, it was with full blindness that I was trusting fate; I truly loved her with all my being. I honestly thought I was going to marry her, jfl.
For almost the entire duration of our relationship, it felt literally like a match made in heaven (and I often thanked the god for what they gave me), with minimal arguments and no real conflict: Her parents loved me (they thought I was a positive, motivating influence on her, and I even asked them to date her since they were very Catholic despite being divorced--that should have been the first red flag), her brother (though initially suspicious) accepted me, and it felt like everything was perfect.
There were literally zero signs of cheating.
So imagine my shock when I move back to Asia and we're in long distance for the first time since we began the relationship. Within 3 months of being physically separate, I find out through a mistaken phone call and a "user busy" ID that she was cheating on me with a 60 year old man and that she told her mother I was abusing her while maintaining a facade of closeness with me. I was in utter disbelief how someone so sweetly I kissed at the airport just that summer would suddenly be so evil towards me. It was really a mindfuck how fast she flipped, after what felt like a perfect match. It was like a stranger I couldn't identify. I immediately broke with her, which (despite her subsequent 15 missed calls) I knew there was no going back to what once was. That notion of true love I carefully built with her was destroyed in an instantaneous burst of flames.
Though undiagnosed, In retrospect I could suggest that she probably had borderline personality disorder. I don't think there was any way of fixing her. She was constantly sad, and cut herself so deep I'd wake up with her blood on me. All I wanted to do was just save her from the tempestuous storms that threatened her sense of happiness. Naturally, I endured a lot of that sort of issue, even if there was very rarely any friction personally between us (and again, she was around me 90% of the time and she gave me her mobile password so I don't know how she could have cheated on me in the process). It just felt like she was really sad and needed help.
Seven years later, I'm blackpilled on antiquated notions of romance. I just live to fuck and fuck to live, because I know that the most beautiful, seductive girls are often the most psychopathically dangerous. There is no possible way it gets better, because once you tell a girl you love her, you accept her reasoning that she is your soulmate, one that you share so many intimate firsts with (not even physical intimacy, but just things like the first girl to meet her parents and receive their blessing) who is forever irreplaceable. What am I supposed to do? Tell another girl those exact same things?
It's literally over. There's no point to believe in love once you had that. Once you tell a girl you want to marry her and that there will never be another one to replace her, what point do you go from when you end the affair? It's just about banging pussy in Latin America and Asia (and maybe Australia, those girls are slutty and still fall for pick-up lines) at that point. There is no going back.
Despite the cutest glances, kindest gestures, and even drawing me to make me feel better after a stressful event, It took me almost 11 months to even tell her that I loved her. My reticence wasn't motivated out of some misguided attempt at 'game' or aloofness; but from experience circa when I was around 17 years old, where became rather infatuated with a girl who I fought with quite a bit (though I wouldn't express it to the point of love, she was the first girl in my life who made me feel cared for and not merely attracted to me), which to this day has influenced how I approach relationships since it made me realise how stalkerish, violent behaviour can get out of control.
So when I told her that I loved her, it was with full blindness that I was trusting fate; I truly loved her with all my being. I honestly thought I was going to marry her, jfl.
For almost the entire duration of our relationship, it felt literally like a match made in heaven (and I often thanked the god for what they gave me), with minimal arguments and no real conflict: Her parents loved me (they thought I was a positive, motivating influence on her, and I even asked them to date her since they were very Catholic despite being divorced--that should have been the first red flag), her brother (though initially suspicious) accepted me, and it felt like everything was perfect.There were literally zero signs of cheating.
So imagine my shock when I move back to Asia and we're in long distance for the first time since we began the relationship. Within 3 months of being physically separate, I find out through a mistaken phone call and a "user busy" ID that she was cheating on me with a 60 year old man
and that she told her mother I was abusing her while maintaining a facade of closeness with me. I was in utter disbelief how someone so sweetly I kissed at the airport just that summer would suddenly be so evil towards me. It was really a mindfuck how fast she flipped, after what felt like a perfect match. It was like a stranger I couldn't identify. I immediately broke with her, which (despite her subsequent 15 missed calls) I knew there was no going back to what once was. That notion of true love I carefully built with her was destroyed in an instantaneous burst of flames. Though undiagnosed, In retrospect I could suggest that she probably had borderline personality disorder. I don't think there was any way of fixing her. She was constantly sad, and cut herself so deep I'd wake up with her blood on me. All I wanted to do was just save her from the tempestuous storms that threatened her sense of happiness. Naturally, I endured a lot of that sort of issue, even if there was very rarely any friction personally between us (and again, she was around me 90% of the time and she gave me her mobile password so I don't know how she could have cheated on me in the process). It just felt like she was really sad and needed help.
Seven years later, I'm blackpilled on antiquated notions of romance. I just live to fuck and fuck to live, because I know that the most beautiful, seductive girls are often the most psychopathically dangerous. There is no possible way it gets better, because once you tell a girl you love her, you accept her reasoning that she is your soulmate, one that you share so many intimate firsts with (not even physical intimacy, but just things like the first girl to meet her parents and receive their blessing) who is forever irreplaceable. What am I supposed to do? Tell another girl those exact same things?
It's literally over. There's no point to believe in love once you had that. Once you tell a girl you want to marry her and that there will never be another one to replace her, what point do you go from when you end the affair? It's just about banging pussy in Latin America and Asia (and maybe Australia, those girls are slutty and still fall for pick-up lines) at that point. There is no going back.
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