What is it when you’re a nice guy who treats women with respect and kindness but at the same tine you don’t? You somehow hurt them and damage them, their feelings, their self-respect. You don’t reciprocate their feelings. You don’t act like they’re important. You drift off into a Neverland of gray and leave your lifeless meatbag there for them to fuss over and have a relationship with. This ain’t healthy, ain’t conducive to a burgeoning relationship or anything akin to love. They need affection and a stability in that affection and I have not given them that, I can’t, not presently. Every whisper of a new romance is tinged with that dark and dreary thought permeating supple worry bones.
In my head, oh, I give them the world. I’m providing everything they could want in a man; the pinnacle of white knights. In reality I’m pushing pushing away and hiding from those that make an effort to care. Those sweet hearts I turn bitter and corroded then leave to pulsate with another thumper. I feel like a bloodless fool and they’re asking for warmth. Jovial and affable but something missing, something lacking. Gone. I come forward with shaky hands holding golden half lockets asking the sun to shine for just me. They want support, I’m selling glass canes and footpads.
Familiarity breeds contempt. I may think less of them from time to time, more I entertain their company the less I care. Stone-faced gentleman without the guts. Attention reduced in lovey dovy operatic scene. Red curtains go down, I let go of the rope.