Someone asked me once, “Have you gotten out of your cycle yet?”
I sat there, puzzled for a second, and then laughed. It wasn’t a cheerful laugh by any means; it was the kind of laugh you make when the joke’s not funny.
“No,” I said, “Look who I’m dating now.” I took out my phone and showed my dear friend the picture of the man I was sharing life with.
He laughed, the kind of laugh when you find something ironic or horribly dreadful but have no other way to react.
I left thinking, ‘how could I allow myself to be in the same cycle of dating trashy guys?!’
Here I am, full blown adult, and I’m dating the same type of guy as when I was a teenager. This thought made me sick.
I was in a cycle of constantly dating jocks who’s heads were too big for their bodies, who’s anger ruled their life, who couldn’t communicate if life depended on it, and who valued his friends more than his girl.
