This will end in tears

I give up.

I can't fight it any more, no matter how much my little Frankenstein heart, patched together with spit and string after the shredder of the breakup last year would like to deny it.

I am MAD for Captain Starlight.

I didn't want to to be. So I lied to myself rather convincingly. I even managed to convince myself over the last two months that he and I were done, and I would go on a virtuous man-break. Pat self on back. No more beautiful, sexy, frustrating, desirable, incapacitating, aggravating men.

Truth is, I met him when I wasn't ready to and tangled myself up because I was scared shitless. I'm amazed he didn't run for it while I quietly imploded emotionally in numerous small, gory ways, but I suppose it's hard to scare a man who's used to the threat of imminent death. It's ridiculous, I told myself. He's going away, and so am I. He’s not a settler, and right now, neither am I. He's happy being single. And so am I.

But that's all lies because really, it's fear of lack of reciprocity. Slinky's had enough rejection cake, thank you, she doesn't want seconds. Here's your fucking plate back, Love, you bitch.

That lasted right until the day when he realized that I was back and asked me out for brunch. And my self-righteous resolution crumbled like old feta. And after that day, the realization came and smacked me hard on he back of the head like the Emotional 2x4 of Merciless Truth.

Once you know, what can you do but give in?