"He was standing there giving me the “what's-the-big-problem” eyes.
I don't understand, like it's my problem.
Just tell me what's going on! Is that too much to ask?
One minute he's all over me, and the next he's pushing me away and... I just cannot believe this is happening, again!
Why do I keep doing this to myself? I must be a masochist or something.
That's when I first realized it. I was in an masochist relationship with him.
In love relationships, there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. In fact, it's a common belief that a relationship without pain is a relationship not worth having.
To some, pain implies growth, but how do we know when the growing pains stop and the “pain-pains” take over? Are we masochists or optimists, if we continue to walk that fine line? When it comes to relationships, how do you know when enough is enough?
Now he don't even care if I'm in his life. Why is it so hard for him to factor me into his life in any real way?
I guess old habits die hard. If he said he loved me, then why does it hurt so fucking much?
On the way home I was furious, not with him, with myself. I was the real sadist. He might be the one with the whip, but I was the one who tied myself up. Tied myself to a man who was terrified of being tied down.
There were no words left. We'd said them all. After we made love, I knew it was over. Did I ever really love him or was I addicted to the pain?
The exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable.
Let's not pretend we're something we're not. It's okay. Some part of me was holding me back, knowing I had gone too far. Reached my limit. And just like that, I had untied myself from him. I was free. But there was nothing exquisite about it."
