Sometimes I think that with me in my life I have absolutely no need for a ‘worst enemy’. If I did have a nemesis they’d be hard pressed to do a better job than I do. It seems that my perfectionist streak extends into the destructive areas too.
I know I’m not alone. I know that there are hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, of people who single handedly pick apart anything that’s remotely good in their lives.
I used to behave this way because I didn’t believe I deserved the good stuff, I didn’t think I was worth it. I now realize I am worth it, no thanks to those L’Oréal adverts. Yet I still find myself, every once in a while, desperate to destroy. It’s as if there’s some sadistic part of me that needs to feed every few years. Like those monsters that lie dormant and then, thanks to some event, awake to wreak havoc on the public.
What has recently woken my monster up?
It took me a while, I can be dense when it suits me, but I’ve worked it out. Two weeks from now I move in with The Boyfriend. This is the first time I’ll be living with someone I’m dating. It’s a big deal for me. I’d love my monster to work that this is something I want before she messes up everything.
I hope she doesn’t try eat The Boyfriend. I have no idea how I’d explain that to his parents.