Just Slap Me In The Head... Go On, I Deserve It!

Ever hear the story about the kid who touches the hot stove? If he's bright, he doesn't touch it a second time. If he's a slow learner, he'll probably touch it several more times before it sinks in that it fucking hurts!

Well, call me a slow learner.

I swear, I swear, I swear ..... I know better, and yet....

Over and over again, I keep making the same mistake, and suffering the same freakin' outcome. Einstein said, "The definition of insanity is repeating the same action, and expecting different results."

You would think that when the dickhead comes around, I'd hold a crucifix up to his face, watch his flesh burn from it, and then run like the wind in the opposite direction. Right? ................. Wrong!

No. Instead, I listen to his lies, half believe them, raise my hopes and expectations, only to be time and time again, let crashing down to the ground in a pathetic heap of fury, despair, and anguish.

I wish I could understand why I cannot hate this man. The heavens above know that if anybody deserves my hatred, it's him.

Intellectually I know that when he speaks, he actually believes he's telling the truth, and yet it's all lies. He's a text book pathological liar. He believes his own trash talk. It's so fucking maddening.

And what's even more maddening is, when he comes around with his apologies and sweet talking, I fall for it. What the hell is wrong with me? I mean, HOW MANY TIMES MUST I GET BURNED before I leave the fucking stove alone?

Men have come and gone in the past few months. Some were very handsome, some were very nice, some were very dependable, some were very taken with me. And each one of them I found fault with. Each one of them I tossed aside for the slightest of things. With the exception of a very few, none pressured me for sex; and none came close to tempting me either.

So what's wrong with me? In the old days, a guy like Dickhead would have been so far lost in my history tracks, he wouldn't even be a bad memory.

I want to hate him. I swear I do. I want to parade a long line of very hot men; handsome, well built, virile men under his nose. I want to make him feel everything he's made me feel... TIMES TEN. I want to look him in the eye and tell him that he's a fat, selfish, lying, cheating, impotent waste of my time, and that I can't even remember what I ever saw in him.

I want to tell him that his nasty, dumpy eyesore of a wife is the best he'll ever hope to have, and that I hope he's stuck living with her scowling, snarling face for the next 50 years... and when they're dead, I hope they're laid face to face, so he'll have to put up with that gorilla mug for all eternity.

I'm going to pray for strength. Strength to allow myself to be free of this sentence of misery he's handed me.

I want to hate that fucker. I really do.