Plan B

Two nights ago, I dreamed I moved to Seattle and became involved in the sex club scene and somehow became a dominatrix at a terrible beat-up little strip mall/old rustic barn place.

And I woke up thinking about how I never want to have sex or date ever again. Old Kerry used to get drunk and sleep with the first guy I could at the bar. New Kerry drinks wine at home alone and sometimes cries and has zero interest in sex or dating or any of that bullshit.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've never been in this situation before. Where I'm two months out and pretty much still crazy in love with the guy. The only thing that's helped me love on is knowing he could have been better to me. I could have too, so it's not much, but it's all I have.

I guess I kind of want to know that he's tortured also.....like he just didn't walk away easily from this. I don't know what exactly that will do, but maybe it will make me feel a little bit better knowing he's hurting too. Because if he's not, then I just feel foolish. Like I was madly in love with someone who couldn't give a fuck about me.

I've been thinking lately about all the times we got together. And every time we got together, I flung myself at him. He may have been the one to make the move, but I always chased him with open arms, screaming, "LOVE ME! LOVE ME! LOVE ME!"

He never chased me. And looking back on that, I should have guessed he'd never pick me. Because he never had before. I was always just kinda there. Like, plan B.

No one should ever be anyone's plan B. Or feel like it at least.

And these revelations are slowly getting me to step out of love and into self-preservation. And a few steps closer to Seattle.