All the broken men

It goes something like this inside my head:

I am too scared to actually be in a relationship, to take that next step with Mr. R, but being with him reminds me of the wonderful giddiness of being chosen by someone, of falling into love, but obviously I can't love him, so then I think about The Last Man I Loved, The Ex, but my feelings for him right now are too complicated, I really can't make heads or tails of it, of him, and then that leads me to thinking about The Man I Loved Before Chicago: The Raging Alcoholic Bartender. And for a while now, I've been having a hard time not sending him a message, something along the lines of Hi but in reality, I just want to remember what it felt like to fall into love and feel like things would be okay.

I haven't talked to him since he sent me a message in the wee hours of morning saying he mistakenly texted me earlier. And sorry. And love you. Another thing I can't make heads or tails of.

Things really do not need to be so tortured, I need to stop holding torches for tortured, broken men, I need to get my act together, in all respects I, in fact, do have my life together. Except for the magnetic pull I have to all the broken men.