Kill old habits before they break your heart

Last night was a visit with another non-boyfriend let's just call him Tweet because he has bird.

He's a real bachelor. Messy bathroom, clothes lying around the living room, bed unmade, he was broiling a slab of ground turkey breast in the toaster oven when I arrived. The preparation consisted of sprinkling seasoned salt on it, putting it on foil letting the brick bake.

Our history is that he was a blind date 5 years ago. Here's what I wrote in a journal after meeting him the first time. We only had one date.

Tweet: "My first date in a long time. One of the first guys I spent some time with and felt empowered enough to truly decide he wasn’t for me. He just wanted to fuck and was not very sensuous about it. "You gotta like to fuck" he said to me. "Do it all over the house." He just pushed me on the bed like a ten year old. I am like "Is this supposed to turn me on?" I tried to explain to him that to touch me he needed to pay attention. As a a massage therapist I have a very refined sense of touch and am sensitive about how I am touched.He didn't seem to care.
Nothing bugs me more than mindless touching or tapping. DW would tap my leg to the music like a drum. That irritated me,. I am not an inanimate object. You want to tap me, do it with purpose baby."

Oddly enough, we have developed a weird little friendship since that first meeting. We go out from time to time, we usually end up with some casual groping, he's not very romantic, will still unceremoniously push me on to the bed, I protest but he doesn't change. Every time I time I leave him I feel unsatisfied, the part of me that longs to connect more deeply feels wounded and I say I won't see him again, but I get lonely and I'll call, telling myself he's harmless, a known quantity, which he is but still, there is that nagging aftermath, the yearning to connect that never gets satisfied.

I feel a little like that character that Martin Short did on SNL, where he was a hyper kid who got was tied to a jungle gym, and try as he would to get away, the leash would snap him back. I say I want to get away from my unsatisfactory choices but I keep getting snapped back by my leash of familiarity: finding comfort in the discomfort of being with unavailable men.

I have to end this post and go make an appointment with a shrink.