Progress Made (?)

So I have been venturing out meeting other guys, not to much avail. I met this one at the club about two weeks ago, we talked on the phone on and off for about two weeks. He kind of stood me up twice. The first time he was supposed to meet me at the movies when I got off work, I was going anyway, so if he showed up he showed up. When I spoke to him earlier that day, he said that he may meet me there and to call him when I got off work. So I did, and no answer. No big whoop. He called me this past Friday, he was in the area and he met me downtown by my job. We talked for a second and we discussed meeting up that Sunday after the Laker game, called him on Sunday, no answer. Whatever.

Another one I met at Starbucks this past Saturday, was crazy, but I spotted it early. First off, he had a USMC tatoo on his arm. Mililtary tatoo=crazy. Second, he was aggressively hitting on me, which never happens in LA=crazy. Third, asked him what he did, the first thing that he said was "a little bit of everything." Crazy. I gave him my phone number because I'm trying to take my therapist's advice to not be such a bitch anymore, but I didn't answer his calls. Or his texts, that came 10 minutes after I left Starbucks. Crazy.

Loverboy is gone until next week, and before he left, in a nutshell I told him I felt. Well, an abbreviated version anyway. I came home and he was playing around with me, and I got really pissed off. I mean really pissed off. I basically screamed at him that I was sick of his fucking smart ass mouth, and making me feel like shit, all while I took off my shoes and hurled them at his head. It came to a head when I took his electronic keys, and threw them against the wall, smashing them. I honestly did not mean to do that, but I got a strange sense of relief when I did. He was pissed and I was glad. I just got so sick of being pissed of all the time, it felt better that he was pissed for once.

The next day, it led into an argument about how violent and angry I've become. And he was right, I have, so I told him. I didn't tell him that I loved him. My exact words were, "I've done a lot for you for the past 6 years, and I care about you more than I like to admit, and you hurt me...a lot." When I said that, I think he was waiting for something else, but I believe that pretty much did the trick. Honestly, I'm glad I told him. It's kind of like I released it into the universe, instead of burdening myself and my friends all the time.

He said that he acknowledges that he had a lot to do with the way I felt, aka he led me on, and that he didn't intentionally mean to hurt me. I said I know. He said he was sorry. I said I know.

Truth is, I could care less what he does with his guilt or information, and I don't want to discuss it any further. I haven't had sex in months, because I'm tired of feeling like sex is the only thing I have to offer to hook a guy. This is the first time in my life, that I don't feel like having a booty call, that I actually want to get to know a person before I decide I want to have sex with me, and the men who want the instant gratification need to get over themselves.