Déjà vu.

Noun: A feeling of having already experienced the present situation.

This morning I awoke to some pretty intense text messages delivered to my phone five hours earlier at approximately five AM. I’m not sure if they were drunken messages, as there were no spelling errors. The (younger) guy who once gave me the book for my birthday with the handwritten noted basically confessed he was still in love with me. He had already once told me that at one point in the past he had been in love with me, but I didn’t believe it. I think I still don’t understand how someone can be in love. How do you know?
My initial reaction was shock. I then felt guilty. I preferred being the half who got hurt, not the one who hurt someone; it was just easier to be unwanted than to have to reject. His last message stated that he didn’t think we should be in contact anymore. In all fairness, before seeing each other at my birthday (four months ago), we probably hadn’t seen each other in over a year. We occasionally text, but I will respect his wishes as I know what it feels like. The last thing I wanted was my response to make me come across as a jerk (as someone else’s had to me). I kept it short, apologizing for making him feel that way and for being so oblivious. I told him the last thing I wanted was for him to feel bad about talking to me so I wouldn’t message him anymore. He didn’t reply; I didn’t expect him to.  

I need a vacation from testosterone.
Lately it seems as though my life is full of male drama; I can’t deal.
This is why I stay single.

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