Before I met you I was a fearful avoidant, always wanting people to be close to me but then screaming “get the fuck away from me” when they were. But now that I have you in my life, I am no longer an avoidant person, I am now an anxious deranged psychopath with no sense of self or sanity.
And that’s how I know, my little cuddlebum, that it is true love.
Who needs a warm, supportive, honest, and safe environment where both partners can feel close yet maintain their independence? That’s not love, that’s dull. Where’s the crippling anxiety, the panic attacks, the debilitating worry that your relationship is over because your other half took longer than 3 minutes to reply to your 800th text of the day?
When I first came out as a lesbian, I was a chubby, spotty 16-year-old who never thought that any woman would ever want to go on a date with me. And now look at me! I’m a chubby, spotty 34-year-old who has been on a date with at least two women and now has an actual girlfriend.
Well, when I say an “actual girlfriend” what I mean is “someone who lives in my head and thus is an illusion rather than an actual person because real relationships are an absolute shitemare”.
Been there, done that, got the straight jacket.
In fact, even having an imaginary girlfriend is quite a lot for my already fragile state. I control everything you say and do, so when you say that I’m a pretty little goose with a gorgeous bum, do you really mean it? Or are you just saying it because I’ve made you say it?
Maybe this imaginary relationship isn’t going anywhere… you never suggest to go out on dates, never initiate sex, never pay for dinner! In fact, thinking about it now, I’m a bit sick of this one-sided relationship.
I think it’s time we split, and I return to where I belong: spinsterhood.
I’m done with relationships. I am now officially off the market.
Were you actually on the market, Jenna? Well, if you count staying in my flat on a Saturday night as being “on the market”, then yes, I was all over the bloody market.
But I’ve dated women, loved women, gone absolutely batshit crazy over women and now, I’m done with them.
You have yourself to thank for that, imaginary girlfriend! You will always be known as the one who put the gorgeous, mentally unhinged Jenna off of the lezzy market. The blame rests squarely on your (deliciously sculptured, yet imaginary) shoulders.
Maybe I’ll give men a go.
With not a single regard,
Jenna