For the love I imagined I did not get, but expected to get from my dad, for the hurts I wanted to replace, for the slight I recieved from my parents, I turned to another man, and another and another and another, for love and fulfillment. The men never stopped coming, I never stopped seeking accepting, expecting fulfilment. One after another and another and another, all I got was disappointments. Went are such seals. They're tiring. Finally, after 12 years of dating different men, and a woman, at 27, I feel sassy, content and confident. I'm exercising self control, learning to set my boundaries, and meaning No when I say it, and standing by it. Finally, I'm growing. I do not need nor want any men as anything more than friends in my life. I'm sure of myself. I want to protect my space and time, and work on myself. That's it. That's all I want. 12 years. I've finally had enough. *burps*.













