A few years back I was walking around holding the pieces of my heart, trying desperately to glue them back together. I decided to one-night-stand away my pain and went home with a guy I met at a club. Well it didn't quite work out as a one-night-stand as he laid out his wishes to see me again. I don't know why I complied, but we met again, and again, and again. I did make it clear that I was not interested in a relationship and he said he was fine with that. But I could tell from his actions that he wasn't. We had sex and we hang out but for me he was just a way to distract me from my now-no-longer-boyfriend. I found it sickening whenever he looked at me with expressions that showed feelings for me and would inwardly shiver in disgust whenever he held my hand. A couple of times after we'd just had sex he'd smile at me and stroke my cheek and I just wanted to wash myself clean of all the vomit I had just thrown up inside. At a certain point my ex contacted me and asked me back. I was torn apart trying to decide what to do. I found myself at a forked-road with one path leading to a life where I'd never find a love like I was now considering giving up, a life where the sex would always leave me wishing I had gone back to him because it would never measure up to the sex we had. The other path led to a magical kind of sex, but a life where we would constantly argue about everything from finances to raising kids to breast-feeding in public because I was too equality-aware a woman in contrast to his club wielding caveman of a man that he was. Being the kind of person that believes in being honest with a partner and giving them the choice to staying or leaving after telling them I want nothing more than sex, I told my back-fired one-night-stand that my ex wanted me back and I didn't know whether or not I would go back. This made him shower me with more goo-goo eyedness and it was simply revolting. He told me he wanted me. He looked like I had just crushed his heart. His pain felt tangible. So I took the cowards' train and simply started to ignore his calls and txts. Pretty immature. And that was that. I felt guilty about it after some time and foolishly believed that that was all the punishment for my behaviour that I was going to receive.
Well, that's not quite how Karma works, is it? No, instead she waited and gift-wrapped my punishment when I least expected it. She made sure I liked him so much that this hope was rekindled; a hope that the road I had opted for when standing where they forked wouldn't lead to bad sex for the rest of my life after all, that I would once again have the opportunity to find the kind of love I had lost. And then when that hope had found sure footing, it would be snatched away from me, leaving me feeling like I had left my attempted one-night stand feeling. And in the way I had used this man to satisfy my sexual needs and as some sort of healing balm for my broken heart, I found myself too, amounting to nothing more than the sexual quenching of a sexual thirst and a healing balm for a man's broken heart.
And that I am able to deal with. That I can accept because I got exactly what I deserved.