So what’s wrong with me?

3am and the world is dark

Everywhere except the blue-white light from my phone.

Fell asleep on the sofa .. again.

There was a message from her waiting when I woke up.

Asking if I was awake and wanted to talk.

I wasn’t and I didn’t.

She says that she misses me.

I miss her too, but not enough.

Not enough to make the effort, invite her over, spend the night wrapped in her arms.

Or legs.

Not enough to make arrangements to see her, even although I don’t have any other plans.

3am and I wonder what’s wrong with me?

Yes me.

Self analytical and critical to a fault.

It must be me, because there’s nothing wrong with her.

She’s lovely, good looking, great smile, all the right bits in all the right places

If you seen her, you’d think so too

Then you’d ask … what’s wrong with you?

Truth is, I don’t know

But I’ll tell you what I do know, the known-knowns, and we can go from there.

Good looking .. tick

Personality .. tick

Generous .. tick

Caring .. tick

I could go on, a big long list with lots of ticks

But it doesn’t solve anything

It just proves that it’s not her, it’s me.

So what is wrong with me?

Why don’t I want this gorgeous woman in my life?

If you seen her, you’d say that I should think myself lucky that a babe like her wants to spend her life with a grunt like me

Yeah I know.

I’m punching well above my weight.

I look at friends and family and their partners, It’s not nice to compare but we do.

They all seem so settled, content, stable, even with partners who quite frankly just wouldn’t raise a smile with me never mind anything else.

And I wonder why do they settle for less than I would.

I don’t understand it.

There’s definitely something wrong with me.

It’s not as if I haven’t had happiness in my life, not as if I haven’t been in love and dare I say … settled.

I miss that. Miss that solidarity of a relationship which you are both committed to.

4am and the phone pings.

She wants to know if I’m awake.

She’s out there in another darkness feeling as lonely I am.

(. But not talking so much self-analytical shit to herself! )

I put the phone down and try to get some shut-eye.

But I can’t help thinking, what’s fucking wrong with me?

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