If a woman loves you, she's probably going to want to f*ck

This is problematic, but there are ways around that.

As I sat in the dim glow of my computer screen, scrolling through her messages and emails, I couldn't shake the gnawing sense of dissatisfaction. I had wanted her to love me in a way that transcended the ordinary, a love so consuming that it bordered on obsession. Yet, as I delved into the private corners of her digital world, it became painfully apparent that my desires were not reciprocated.

In the beginning, she had shown interest. A flicker of curiosity, a willingness to explore the possibilities that lingered between us. But when her actions deviated from the script I had written in my mind, I felt a surge of resentment. The idealized version of her, the one that existed solely in my fantasies, was not materializing in reality.

In my quest to mold her into the object of my desires, I punished her for her perceived transgressions. I invaded her privacy, seeking solace in the illusion that possessing her digital secrets would somehow bridge the emotional gap between us. It was a twisted manifestation of love, a distorted yearning for a connection that eluded me.

The paradox lay in my conflicted desires. On one hand, I craved her attention, the acknowledgment that I held significance in her world. Yet, on the other hand, the prospect of genuine intimacy, of being physically close to her, repulsed me. The stark reality of human relationships clashed with the fantastical realm I had constructed in my mind.

As I grappled with the dissonance between my fantasies and the tangible world, I questioned the authenticity of my yearnings. Did I truly want to be with her, or was I merely enamored with the idea of being her, of embodying the confidence and allure she projected?

Admitting to myself that I had never seen a woman's body up close felt like an admission of weakness, a chink in the armor of my manufactured masculinity. The physical realities of intimacy repulsed me, and yet, the idea of her desire stirred a primal response within me.

In the end, it became evident that I reveled more in the energy surrounding the abstract concepts of love and desire than in the messy, complicated reality of a relationship. Her attention became a symbolic validation of my manhood, an ego boost that temporarily quieted the insecurities that lurked within.