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She had made it through the hell she thought. It felt like her body had been through reverse fat camp and she bled constantly still and she hadn't been out of sweatpants in 40 days. Her lips were so chapped from the cold and the biting. So far, she hadn't cut her hair off.
She wasn't thriving by any stretch, but she had made it. She thought of him constantly, but now it was more of the situation constantly. She recognized clearly that she had not understood the deal at all.
There was a film she remembered that was called "Same Time Next Year" that was billed as a romance. She considered it a horror film.
Narcissi wasn't going to be the chosen one - the lover. She was batting practice every Saturday - pleasant with some drinks but something skippable.
The technical term was "Resetting Date Loop". She had kept thinking one more date - one more experience - and he was going to kiss her with some real tongue. Alas nope. She grew hella tired of waiting and realized that she was fucked when it never deepened - never increased. The two weeks during the holidays screamed at her "wait what! you're never getting cold cuts and movie marathons!"
She had beat her ego into a pulp. She had been so mad at herself for losing him - for getting knocked out of his orbit.
He was the perfect wound reenactment for her: smart exiting daddy/cold distant mommy. No love in that system.
And she easily recognized that she was the perfect pleaser.
now, that was kind of over.
Please god.
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