The reason is obvious: if a relationship has to be a secret, someone's feelings are at stake.
Often times, people will tell you me that if it has to be a secret, you shouldn't be doing it. People love to share their opinions about everything that doesn't have to do with them, but they do kind of have a point. It's true... sometimes. I mean, if what you're doing is a secret because you don't want his girlfriend to find out, you probably shouldn't be doing it. Fair.
I'm currently in a secret... thing. In fact, every relationship I've had with a guy since I broke up with my last boyfriend has been on the DL. (Down Low, not Disabled List. Although, I suppose either will be accurate.) I find it coincidence that I keep ending up in these situations, but others have pointed out the possibility that it's straight-up self-sabotage. It's not exactly a point I can argue, to be honest.
I don't like to think of myself as breakable, but my last relationship was certainly a slightly some form of a crushing experience for me. It was the kind of relationship that you know (along with him/her, all your friends and family and the universe itself) that this is the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with. You feel it in your gut. Both of you do and you talk about marriage and how you want to raise your kids and your religious differences, should there be any.
But we were in our early 20s and not prepared for what the universe had in store. Then out of nowhere, as my therapist likes to put it, life happened. Things went downhill and things seems to fall apart faster than they started (which was actually pretty fucking slow). But we were that couple, the one that everyone held onto hope for up until about a year ago. And I'll admit, I probably held onto that hope for longer than I should have.
I think the trend of bad decisions started with guys I had subconsciously deemed "fillers," someone that I date to say I've moved on but would drop in a second for the chance to get back together with him. Alright, fine, who doesn't do that. However, as I moved on from our relationship, I started to lose touch with what we had and could no longer remember what it felt like. I can't actually remember how it feels to be so head-over-heels in love with someone that you want to wake up and see them every day for the rest of your life and share every new experience with them and do anything for and with them. The more detached you grow from those feelings, the harder it is to imagine being able to feel them again.
Once you've convinced yourself it'll never happen again, it's easy to fall into a pattern of hanging out with people with little to no potential. Not to mention, why would I want to put myself through that pain again? Easier to stick to men I can only get so attached to before things need to be shut down.
On the other hand, it seems I have a possible fetish for guys that I'm not supposed to date (according to other peoples' laws. Which is stupid.) My superiors, associates, people who I was specifically told I should never go within 5 feet of... the usual. I think that's always been a thing of mine long before this break-up. So that begs the question: is authority a turn-on or have I always looked to sabotage possible good things for myself?
Stay tuned. Maybe blogging about all of this will reveal the answer. Or not, but keep reading anyways.
I don't like to think of myself as breakable, but my last relationship was certainly a slightly some form of a crushing experience for me. It was the kind of relationship that you know (along with him/her, all your friends and family and the universe itself) that this is the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with. You feel it in your gut. Both of you do and you talk about marriage and how you want to raise your kids and your religious differences, should there be any.
But we were in our early 20s and not prepared for what the universe had in store. Then out of nowhere, as my therapist likes to put it, life happened. Things went downhill and things seems to fall apart faster than they started (which was actually pretty fucking slow). But we were that couple, the one that everyone held onto hope for up until about a year ago. And I'll admit, I probably held onto that hope for longer than I should have.
I think the trend of bad decisions started with guys I had subconsciously deemed "fillers," someone that I date to say I've moved on but would drop in a second for the chance to get back together with him. Alright, fine, who doesn't do that. However, as I moved on from our relationship, I started to lose touch with what we had and could no longer remember what it felt like. I can't actually remember how it feels to be so head-over-heels in love with someone that you want to wake up and see them every day for the rest of your life and share every new experience with them and do anything for and with them. The more detached you grow from those feelings, the harder it is to imagine being able to feel them again.
Once you've convinced yourself it'll never happen again, it's easy to fall into a pattern of hanging out with people with little to no potential. Not to mention, why would I want to put myself through that pain again? Easier to stick to men I can only get so attached to before things need to be shut down.
On the other hand, it seems I have a possible fetish for guys that I'm not supposed to date (according to other peoples' laws. Which is stupid.) My superiors, associates, people who I was specifically told I should never go within 5 feet of... the usual. I think that's always been a thing of mine long before this break-up. So that begs the question: is authority a turn-on or have I always looked to sabotage possible good things for myself?
Stay tuned. Maybe blogging about all of this will reveal the answer. Or not, but keep reading anyways.
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