It's nice to feel wanted, to feel cared for, to feel loved. But it's also nice to feel needed. Evidently, I don't want people to feel like they can't cope all the time. But it's nice, in an admittedly ego-maniacal way, to think - or rather, to be told, that someone, somewhere - someone who you feel you need - needs you too. Those little phrases you pick up from people that they may say casually, or directly, to you, that make you feel good about yourself.
I began to feel that with Rebecca pretty much immediately after we started going out - as she had a mad crush on me. This had never, ever happened before, and I was liking it with an almost indecent enthusiasm. Her phrases, hints, and suggestions to me - that she'd miss college to be with me, or that she could never live without me - were in almost direct opposition to her repeated indiscretions, but I quite liked it when she said that stuff. And I sacrificed a lot for her, as well, to prove that I reciprocated. Although in fairness, when she dumped me, I'd known it was coming for a while - as I'd worked out she was cheating; a few contributing factors led to this, but none as much as the fact that she stopped saying that stuff.
TD's philosophy on life was different - she didn't like the whole idea that someone would have to make your life better for you, you have to do it yourself - but she did have the momentary blip when she slipped and admitted she wanted me - in order to cope, perhaps? I was a terrible repeat offender, missing her over and over and over again and telling her so. And there were times when I absolutely needed her. Of course there were. And there are times when she needed me. But in this case, it was her actions, rather than her words, that let me know this. Certainly she said things - influenced in part by people telling her not to get tied down to one man, and so on and so forth - but she did other things, like coming to see me a mere one hour after I got back from a week-long Woodcraft Camp, which let me know she wanted me.
I haven't felt that way for a while. And then yesterday, I got this text:
I imagined I was grabbing it and you were fucking me as I masturbated this morning.
And a little spark ignited in my stomach, and felt good about itself once again.