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I'm Glad It Didn't Work Out (Samuel Jones- Bastrop, LA)

     When I think of all the guys that I wanted things to work out with in the past, I have varied responses. I chuckle usuallysometimes I sigh and roll my eyes so hard that I swear I can see my own thoughts. I never respond like this because of the typical, "What did I see in him?" It's always because I know exactly what I saw and  I actually felt we were a good match.

     Even though the guys are radically different from one another, there is a common thread I have noticed: I always think, "It doesn't get any better than this." I always tend to feel this person is the perfect match for me, which leads to a clinginess and a pressure to prove my worth. But usually, things fall apart for one reason or another: "I'm straight," "I don't want to lose what we have as friends," "You're too soft," "This is moving too fast for me." All kinds of bullshit.

     But you know, I acknowledge my part in finding myself in such unsanitary situations. For one, I need to disregard the desire to "fix" people. There ain't nothin' wrong with a little helpsome spackle here and there, but bitch, I'm no mason. Not anymore. . . building houses for other people to live in. And for two, being the only one giving a percentage over twenty-five.

     I also understand that there is zero need for me to prove myself to anyone. I am already good enough. I was born and I will die that way. So all of this giving 'till it hurts, even if it's just my attention, has come to an end. Hmph, "It doesn't get any better than this." Interestingly enough, every subsequent guy would be of a higher and higher caliber of what I "needed" at the time. I guess it was because I would learn an important lesson with each one, and I would see my self-worth as much less of a stranger.

     Remaining with those individuals would have only stunted my growth.

     I'm glad it didn't work out— with any of them



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