... is an increased reluctance to take risks when it comes to affairs of the heart.
After a string of catastrophic dalliances with (on-the-surface) nice, normal men who then turned out to be alcoholics, workaholics, peeping-toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits and perverts (thank you, Bridget, for summarising my disastrous lovelife right there), I'm emotionally exhausted. Because as soon as you do that crazy thing of being honest about your feelings for someone, you become the vulnerable one. If I didn't pick such wildly unsuitable men, this might not be a problem; however, after years of jumping in feet first, I'm starting to take a more careful approach.
The thing is, the boy I currently have my heart set on (let's call him Lovely G - just to differentiate him from Repellent G, the very worst of the aforementioned emotional fuckwits) is unlikely to be one of the heartbreakers. I've known him as a friend for a couple of years and he is almost certainly one of the goodies. But even so, my instinct to protect myself is what's stopping me from laying my cards on the table. I don't want to put myself in a position where I might get hurt, even though, if it all goes right for once, it might be worth it in the end. So, to conclude, I have no idea how to do this.
Anyway, all of this is going to have to go on hold until next week, because I'm going to Salzburg for a long weekend. When I get back, Lovely G will finally be back from his own holiday and something Good might happen - I suppose we'll start with tea and cake and see where it goes from there? Is that how grown ups do things? I'll have to wait and see. So long! Farewell! Auf wiedersehen! Goodbye!
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