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The second and third time you get more or less used to it.
But the first time you completely lose your head. You try to get him back, call, write, follow him around, ask for forgiveness, have sex just so that he doesn’t do this with anyone else but you, get angry with him, complain to your friends about what a scoundrel he is.
But from the perspective of my current situation, I could just as diligently take up sports, dancing, drawing, going to a theater group, doing what I was called to do.
I don’t argue that I may also have a vocation for the return of runaway guys, but considering that now I have a beloved husband, and they were left behind, then all this was pointless.
So, how do you know if a man is worth the effort, tears and change?
Well, I developed a set of criteria for getting my ex-boyfriends back, and I won't do it again.
First of all, they were offended by me. I pointed out their shortcomings to them more often than I spoke words at all. I’m exaggerating, of course, but something always irritated me about them. Either he called me a fool, then he called me too fat, too unkempt, rude, angry, boorish, unsexy, stupid, greedy, poor, lazy, just not the same.
Therefore, at first I abandoned them myself, trying to get them to return me. Then they agreed with my decision and really broke off the relationship.
Something like that:
– I'm leaving.
– Sorry.
– No, I decided.
A day, two, a month, in different ways. I start to get bored, the hysteria passes, the anger settles. And it seemed like he wasn't that bad. I want everything back. I guess I love him. He is definitely my destiny, it's time to call him.
If I had immediately realized that a feeling of guilt was pushing me to return them, and that this same feeling would later make me weaker in relation to my ambitions, ruin my dreams and my individuality, then I would not have hesitated.
Some men are worth pursuing, but not men.
Secondly, they were in love with me at the beginning of our relationship. They made it clear that they were hooked on me, that I was the one they not only wanted, but loved. This is any kind of romance. You won't miss this. It's hard not to notice. Sings songs when he sees you, beams with happiness. Finds out from your friends everything you think and feel. He constantly wants to be around and makes appointments. Gives flowers, gifts, takes you to the cinema, tries to surprise you even after you have had intimacy.
Openly declares love.
It may not be all together, but only a couple of points that still determine his affection for you.
If I knew that I, in principle, deserved love, I would not think that he was the only one who would love me. There will be others. I wouldn’t worry that if I broke up with the guy who loved me, I’d meet someone better. Someone not only in love, but also in line with my preferences.
The guys will now say: “Well, a priori we don’t have a chance. All of you girls are the same, you have a list of traits of an ideal man, and here we are suffering, trying to look after you. Why try to please you if it’s still unrealistic?”
Guys won't read this book, so I won't answer the imaginary question.
Third. He really wasn't the same.
Dear representatives of the stronger sex, if you still found this reading worthy of your attention, then here is the answer.
You can be perfect and still not suit your sweetheart. It's not about you or us. There's just no light. There was no tension… in the clitoris.
Rough? Yes. But I don’t know a better criterion than to show this to you colorfully, using an example close to your anatomy.
A girl shouldn't just agree to your presence and advances. She must want you at least a little.
You know the joke. How to tell if a girl likes a guy? Let her throw her panties up in the air after the date. Stuck to the ceiling – I liked it.
I have my own parameters: a guy must be self-sufficient, daring, cheerful, witty, then handsome, smelling delicious, rich and generous, be successful with women, and show me at least the slightest signs of attention.
If your girlfriend doesn't want you, then she doesn't love you.
This is all nonsense that: “a woman loves with her ears, the main thing for her is support and protection, the main thing is to respect and be gentle, and sex comes later.” A woman is the same as a man, only the penis is too small. She also wants the man she loves. If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t love her anymore.
This doesn't mean he's cheating. We can live perfectly well without men for years. She just doesn’t want this particular husband, which means she doesn’t love him. She lives with him for some benefit. The same self-affirmation, for example.
“What will my friends think if I’m left alone?” “What will I live on if he leaves?” “I’ve never lived alone, I’m afraid of loneliness” and so on.
Therefore, dear men, if the woman you love has a headache, is tired, and has any other excuse to refuse sex, then she no longer wants you, and therefore no longer loves you. Maybe he loves as a loved one, a friend, but not as a husband.
If you leave, then perhaps she will come to her senses, begin to want you and love you again, but if you yourself have not done anything to increase her libido in relation to you, then, alas, everything will happen again.
You should change. You should find out what makes her sexually aroused when she sees you, what makes her clitoris erect. And be strong to hear the truth from her. The truth will be tough.
If this woman is dear to you, then do as she asks. Well, in the end, if you lose a couple of kilograms, tone your gray hair, treat tooth decay, take a comedy or female seduction course, change your job to earn more, then your life will be easier.
If I had known this then, I would not have reacted to any of them at all, I would have simply continued to develop calmly and waited for my husband. If I didn't meet, I wouldn't waste my time.
They say sex is good for health. What nonsense. Orgasm is necessary for health. Not sex. A woman can live and develop well by masturbating periodically, and wait for a man who can please her, and not have sex with someone whom your parents or girlfriends match you with with the words “isn’t it time for you to get married?”, “I want grandchildren,” “you are so You’ll become an old maid.”
There is another side to the issue. There are nymphomaniacs, or girls with low IQ, their libido is usually increased. They party, drink a lot, don't have much success in life, but love to have sex.
Men, if you are still reading my work, then my advice to you is, do not fall for such people. They will cheat on you, their wet panties won't tell you anything. This treacherous underwear will destroy you.
So, girls, I'll get back to you.
My first experience of a painful breakup was with Vasya, a DJ from my town. A year younger than me, but stronger and more mature in appearance. He fell in love so much that for two weeks after I left him he didn’t want to give up. He asked my friend to help, he looked for a meeting with me, called me at home.
I didn't want to meet him then. During one of our meetings, I clung to his words and played offended. Then I asked my mother to tell him that I was not at home. And finally, I persuaded my friend to tell him that I met someone else on the way home that day and fell in love.
He fell behind.
About a month later, I found out that he was already dating someone else, older and more beautiful than me. I saw them together and…
We have gradually arrived at the fourth criterion.
Fourthly. All these guys got another girl after the breakup, which made me jealous. Oh, a wonderful feeling that propels us to incredible accomplishments, clouds our minds and drags us into the abyss of recklessness. It has an effect until you get yours and defeat your opponent.
If I had understood the deplorability of the situation then, I would have given up everything at once.
How absurd it is to fight another girl for your piece of the pie. There are a lot of cakes from famous chefs around, and I was furious over a stale, moldy pie with viburnum.
Where is this guy now? I sometimes look at my exes on social networks; he can’t be called happy. A divorced guy older than his years, who still doesn’t watch his weight well, drinks liters of beer, and flirts with women. Everything is the same as before, before me.
Am I glad that I didn’t manage to get him back then? Undoubtedly.
She suffered a lot. I cried at night. I dragged myself to the club during his shifts with my friends to shine. I agreed to have sex when he was drinking too much and dragging me along. I went to try to enter not only law school, but also medicine, to prove to him that he was not the only one who wanted to become a doctor. He never did. I studied for seven fucking years.
Sorry. I didn’t want to swear, but how we still love to drive ourselves into traps.
It’s good that she left to study in another city, we never saw each other again. Time helped me recover from the fixed idea and reconsider my life guidelines.
I never loved him, it was just a thirst to defeat my rival.
Do you know why I say so confidently?
Right! You learn quickly.
Because I never wanted him. The panties, so to speak, did not stick to the ceiling.
"Treason."
Oh, this is a new chapter and new details. If this has never happened to you, get up and go away.
Kidding. But I don’t believe that there is even one unfortunate person who has never found out about the betrayal. Please note, I’m not saying that she wasn’t cheated on, I’m talking about knowledge.
Everyone has gone through this at least once.
And I guess that I finally caught the adulterer in an unseemly act.
I used to think that everyone always changes. But in reality it turned out that not all, but at least once.
What I mean? I'll explain now. Every person, by the age of thirty, or even twenty-five, has encountered the fact that he was cheated on or that he himself cheated on him at least once.
Life is such a thing that if it is faced with a serious harmful action, it tries not to repeat it again. Rare exceptions cannot cope with this without outside help.
Here I will touch on my sister a little and tell you what influence she had on my life.
From the age of eight, I was something like a recorder for my nineteen-year-old blood friend. I didn’t understand anything of what she was saying, but I wrote everything down. I tried to keep the conversation going because she was giving me money for ice cream.
She woke up after another disco in the morning, on fumes and tipsy, gave me money for tomato juice for herself and sweets for me, and after I returned from the store, she told me about the guys.
I always admired her beauty and charm, she had no end of admirers, but at the same time I didn’t believe them one iota.
– All guys cheat, there is no such thing as love, you just need to use them.
I heard these guidelines, almost like a mantra, from my sister for ten years.
I grew up and we even went to clubs together, but her attitude towards men did not change – an exclusively consumerist approach, no attachments, one hundred percent confidence that as long as she cheats on herself, they will not cheat on her… and therefore will not hurt her.
She doesn’t talk about the part of the phrase after the ellipsis, but it’s a no brainer.
Another interesting observation that I made is media propaganda.
Remember the Argentine TV series "Black Pearl"? There, Perla was constantly disappointed with Thomas, that he was weak in the front.
I was a fan of this series, and of course it left its mark on my worldview.
Next, gossip about relatives and acquaintances played a role: Uncle Sasha cheated on Aunt Sveta, my cousin’s boyfriend cheated on her throughout the relationship, his ex-wife cheated on my father, the parishioner’s husband left for another woman, Uncle Gena cheated on Aunt Lena and eventually left her.
How prosaic everything is, you say. I will confirm your words. It’s trite when people cheat, but we’re still shocked every time: “He seemed like such a good person.”
So yes, I expected something like this all the time.
And finally, when I relaxed in my twenties after three years of seclusion, and began the first serious relationship in my life (it lasted about two months), he left me.
And later he admitted that he had cheated.
This man drank every day, drove drunk, threw hysterics about sex, even proposed marriage to me. And in the end he left with the words: “You were too nagging at me.”
As a religious fanatic, I tried to make a man out of Dima, criticized and nagged him so that he would change, manipulated sex so that he would change.
And in the end she got hit in the back.
Do you know what's terrible? I wasn’t upset that this fallen little man slept with someone else, I sprinkled ashes on my head for my nagging.
I sincerely believed that I should return him and slow down. That since he wanted to get married, then he is the one and I need to change myself, become more loyal to his shortcomings, more patient, forgive and start all over again.
Of course, you already know the sequel. You can guess that I started drinking with him, going to nightclubs, skipping school, and generally becoming more cynical than I was.
Girls, if you tried to imitate your imperfect man only on the assumption that he was the one, then let the world cry, because this is the greatest stupidity of the weak half of humanity.
So what could I do then.
First, do not start a relationship with an alcoholic at all. In Russia, despite the supposed genetic predisposition, there are still men who do not abuse alcohol.
Secondly, I could recognize his psychoticism even in his first hysteria and drive it away.
Thirdly, after he stopped picking up the phone and calling himself, it was worth leaving everything de facto. It was worth completely immersing yourself in studying, and maybe even working part-time, so that there was no time left for stupid thoughts.
Every evening I returned from university to a rented apartment, where my neighbor regularly worked or slept after a night out, and cried in the bathroom.
I hardly ate, I got hooked on “The Sims” (this is a computer game), and if my friend could stay with me for a little while, I occupied her ears and made her depressed.
It was a difficult period, I took Corvalol twice in order to somehow fall asleep. Thank God, I clearly understood the harm of antidepressants and psychiatrists and did not go for “help.”
Zhanna, that same neighbor, had been on antidepressants years earlier because of her boyfriend’s infidelity. What did it cost her? There was barely life… She tried to commit suicide one night while on medication.
Yes, you heard right. Not before or after taking them, but during. Before the intervention of psychotherapists, Zhanna simply suffered and cried, her threats of suicide were just words, which alarmed her parents.
But after a week of taking psychotropic drugs, Zhanna got up at night while the “convoy” was sleeping and went to commit suicide.
Her parents woke up in time and stopped her. This was followed by a difficult period of rehabilitation with withdrawal symptoms, but she coped with it and stopped taking the terrible drugs.
