GingerbreadGirl II
Zapped.
Just when I thought I had it all sorted out ...
Almost later in the same day after my last post, we broke up.
Turned out that he was unhappy that I decided to stop taking those magic pills. A decision I made simply so that I can, for once prove to myself that I can be loved.
He had briefly mentioned it in the morning before I had set out to the dentist. He said that I should not endanger my health by not taking those pills.
For those in the know, my body doesn't produce hormones naturally. I have to take them daily, in tablet form lest I resort to the sort of character I was many, many years ago. I become somewhat of a baser version of myself. With the mentality of a brick to boot.
Those wonderful pills make me feel like a woman. With them, I tend to experience not only the physical advantages in terms of the five senses, but also the emotional ones as well. The latter being the need to feel protected, wanted or even, desired. Most of all, the desire to be loved. This is something I have never truly experienced.
I had told him that I had started to feel different. I couldn't explain how as he had no experience in such matters and I also told him that its the only way I can cope if I was to be with him. It was a sacrifice on my part for the guarantee of a trouble-free girlfriend who would have no desires or wants of her own.
You see dear moonbeams, this guy doesn't believe in flowers, kisses, or the need to be touched. And I can definitely forget about sex. That would be a no-no.
It was true sometime ago when I said that 'Nefertiti's' gates were hard to pass through. But I had been experimenting and practicing ways in which I could make that passage easier. He didn't even want to know. I even don't remember if he'd ever seen it.
I must admit though, I had been difficult to live with. What with my childish wrestles, biting and play-fights at impromptu moments. I'd still like to think that I gave it my best.
The conversations that happened when I got back didn't help either. Rather than talk it through with me, he went off to a pub with another woman, leaving me at a loss as to how best to cope with the horrendous situation I felt my mind was in.
You see folks, I have been single for a long, long time. I have tried almost everything to change that status only to be told that its because of the 'way that I am' that I was undesirable. Apparently what I count as a 'relationship' is not the same as whats in everyone else's head. Couples don't give flowers, kiss or cuddle. They don't even have sex. And to stop myself from yearning these things, I stopped the one thing that makes me feel like a woman. Those 100 micrograms that define my everyday experience.
I cried for a long time while lying with my face half buried in the latest issue of Superman Legends. I had no idea what to do except for one thing.
To run. Leave the place. Forget about even working with the guy. He had finally made me feel worthless. Even more so than my folks ever did. And so I packed. Packed everything I could think of that belonged to me.
Then I noticed something.
His computer was still logged on. And with the miracle of him having failed to log off a shared social networking site, I did the unthinkable.
I decided to peep at his inbox.
I didn't want to pry. I certainly didn't want to spend the whole evening reading his mails. Remnants of estrogen-powered intuition just told me to look at his last entry.
It was to a much older, larger woman. Telling her that if she was keen, he would start something going with her.
I felt sick. It dawned on me that despite his allegations of a low libido and anti-androgenic drugs (for I have not seen evidence of any), he was saving himself for someone better.
I felt angry. I tried to visualise the good times we spent together but that mail simply destroyed whatever remained of myself inside.
With that, I flushed whatever remained of those pills down the toilet and reached for a second set of pills. The set of pills that, at one time, made me so much happier in a different way. Heck, I simply didn't want to be myself anymore.
And with that, I drank little sweetened soy milk. Laxatives can leave the occassional bad taste in your mouth you see.
Zapped.
Just when I thought I had it all sorted out ...
Almost later in the same day after my last post, we broke up.
Turned out that he was unhappy that I decided to stop taking those magic pills. A decision I made simply so that I can, for once prove to myself that I can be loved.
He had briefly mentioned it in the morning before I had set out to the dentist. He said that I should not endanger my health by not taking those pills.
For those in the know, my body doesn't produce hormones naturally. I have to take them daily, in tablet form lest I resort to the sort of character I was many, many years ago. I become somewhat of a baser version of myself. With the mentality of a brick to boot.
Those wonderful pills make me feel like a woman. With them, I tend to experience not only the physical advantages in terms of the five senses, but also the emotional ones as well. The latter being the need to feel protected, wanted or even, desired. Most of all, the desire to be loved. This is something I have never truly experienced.
I had told him that I had started to feel different. I couldn't explain how as he had no experience in such matters and I also told him that its the only way I can cope if I was to be with him. It was a sacrifice on my part for the guarantee of a trouble-free girlfriend who would have no desires or wants of her own.
You see dear moonbeams, this guy doesn't believe in flowers, kisses, or the need to be touched. And I can definitely forget about sex. That would be a no-no.
It was true sometime ago when I said that 'Nefertiti's' gates were hard to pass through. But I had been experimenting and practicing ways in which I could make that passage easier. He didn't even want to know. I even don't remember if he'd ever seen it.
I must admit though, I had been difficult to live with. What with my childish wrestles, biting and play-fights at impromptu moments. I'd still like to think that I gave it my best.
The conversations that happened when I got back didn't help either. Rather than talk it through with me, he went off to a pub with another woman, leaving me at a loss as to how best to cope with the horrendous situation I felt my mind was in.
You see folks, I have been single for a long, long time. I have tried almost everything to change that status only to be told that its because of the 'way that I am' that I was undesirable. Apparently what I count as a 'relationship' is not the same as whats in everyone else's head. Couples don't give flowers, kiss or cuddle. They don't even have sex. And to stop myself from yearning these things, I stopped the one thing that makes me feel like a woman. Those 100 micrograms that define my everyday experience.
I cried for a long time while lying with my face half buried in the latest issue of Superman Legends. I had no idea what to do except for one thing.
To run. Leave the place. Forget about even working with the guy. He had finally made me feel worthless. Even more so than my folks ever did. And so I packed. Packed everything I could think of that belonged to me.
Then I noticed something.
His computer was still logged on. And with the miracle of him having failed to log off a shared social networking site, I did the unthinkable.
I decided to peep at his inbox.
I didn't want to pry. I certainly didn't want to spend the whole evening reading his mails. Remnants of estrogen-powered intuition just told me to look at his last entry.
It was to a much older, larger woman. Telling her that if she was keen, he would start something going with her.
I felt sick. It dawned on me that despite his allegations of a low libido and anti-androgenic drugs (for I have not seen evidence of any), he was saving himself for someone better.
I felt angry. I tried to visualise the good times we spent together but that mail simply destroyed whatever remained of myself inside.
With that, I flushed whatever remained of those pills down the toilet and reached for a second set of pills. The set of pills that, at one time, made me so much happier in a different way. Heck, I simply didn't want to be myself anymore.
And with that, I drank little sweetened soy milk. Laxatives can leave the occassional bad taste in your mouth you see.