The Demigod & the Fangirl: An Allegory on Fatal Attraction

I don’t know who or what is responsible for this strange twist of fate that seems to be plaguing myself and all of my girl friends lately. Maybe it’s some higher power, maybe it’s the planets, maybe it’s all the men and their stupid man-penises. Regardless, there’s this bug going around that gives dudes some ridiculous symptoms of the most dangerous infection: a god complex.

cow sidecar LMAO

If you’ve followed this blog for more than 5 minutes you’ll know that up until recently I was emotionally attached to/obsessed with a man named Jack for about a year and a half. A surgeon, a New Yorker, devilishly handsome, chivalrous, financially successful, sexually skilled… what more could I need?

I thought he was everything. I legitimately thought he was exactly who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with because I was caught up in the fantasy of his good-on-paper qualities as opposed to the reality of his shortcomings. So one day, a few months ago, I got good and drunk at a nude beach with my friends and decided to text Jack and tell him that I was in love with him. (For the record, I 100% blame the old naked guy who sold me the boozy freezie for that extra dose of bad judgement). Anyway, Jack’s response jolted me into a new realm of reality called “I don’t think I actually know what love is because this is all way too anti-climactic and one-sided to be considered something as huge as love”.

My message to him was quickly met with an unenthusiastic “Wow, I don’t know what to say. We have a great connection but the distance makes it hard.”


First of all, with regards to not knowing what to say, if somebody tells you they love you and the response isn’t immediately apparent to you, obviously the love is unrequited, in which case, I guess I’ll just go f**k myself.  Second of all, as he always seemed to mention our “great connection”, I thought about it and realized that the only connection we really ever had was the “bump’n’grind” connection. AKA, the sex was great, but beyond that, we are completely different people with entirely opposite goals and dreams and ideas about what a relationship (either nearby or long distance) should look like. Sure, we initially had some pretty great chemistry, but that’s called the honeymoon phase. It’s easy to think you love someone when you can count on two hands the amount of times you’ve actually been in their presence over an 18 month period, and during those times most of it was spent naked/having sex/watching movies/sleeping. AKA, I’ve had maybe a grand total of 5 real conversations with Jack in my entire life and somehow I thought that warranted love? #ohhellnaw, #thisisnotthebachelorette.


Either way, I’m really glad I spoke up and told him how I felt because the realization that he didn’t love me and that he honestly thought that one or two texts every few weeks was enough to sustain a “relationship” allowed me to release him back into his natural habitat with little to no regrets.

Rewind to me telling him how I felt. After we had a quick chat about my feelings for him, he said he wanted to book a trip to come see me but needed a few days to look at his schedule and figure some things out. Okay, sure, take your time.

Carrie Bradshaw, though fictional, has been my relationship touchstone throughout the years, and I do believe she put it best after telling Mr. Big she loved him and getting virtually no response: “I didn’t put an expiration date on the sentiment but I figure it’s got the shelf life of a dairy product. It’s going to start to curdle in about a week.”

6 weeks go by. Radio silence.

At this point, I equal parts [hope he died] and [hope he booked a flight to surprise me and is on his way to scoop me up into his arms and declare his love and sweep me off to New York to be his wife].

Of course, it was neither of those things.

I really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being able to ghost me and have me just allow it, so I passively-aggressively reached out to ask “So how is your schedule looking?” since he had blamed his initial lack of response on “scheduling issues”… yeah… okay…

To which he replied “What?”


He had no scheduling issue, obviously. Free time or not, he was never going to come out here to see me because he couldn’t be bothered to even give me a dignified response to my expression of love. Who does that?? Who?!?

Regardless, I have since met the man who I’m pretty damn sure I’m going to marry who ironically also lives in New York. Now before you go thinking “Sounds like a Jack 2.0 to me”, let me reassure you that this man has very little in common with Jack. He is kind, he communicates, he is vulnerable, he has the same goals that I have, he wants to make plans with me, he also wants a dog instead of a child (more on why THAT is so crucial in another article). We’ve been talking for just over a month and he already has booked a flight to come see me in August. He is MAKING PLANS!

I want to back up for a second though and talk about how my unrequited love for Jack made me suddenly aware of the bigger issue: He had a major yet cleverly disguised god complex. If you’re a faithful follower of this blog then you might be thinking “I’ve heard her use that phrase before”, which would be correct. I said the same thing of Thaddeus, the same thing was also true of Brian, and of several of my other exes. These men in my past, or at least a majority of them, seemed to be operating under the delusion that I existed in their lives in order to inflate their already overgrown egos, instead of being the person in whom they find strength and into whom they can invest love and time.

My roommate back in Brooklyn last year asked me a very important question when I first started dating Jack: she asked, “Do you like him, or does he feed your ego?” OH how I wish someone had asked these men the same question in regards to me. I realize that I’ve had a habit of dating men in prominent places in society – actors in feature films, pro football players, surgeons, lawyers. Men who are “up there” in the ranks in terms of their careers. Men who, considering their positions, shouldn’t really require validation from a partner because obviously they’re already successful and being recognized for it. Men who, regardless of all that, still seem to feed on a fan base.


The problem with these “demigods” is that equality isn’t even in their vocabulary. Right off the bat, whether openly expressed or quietly concealed, there exists a feeling of superiority. An assumed hierarchy within the relationships that tells them “she’s so lucky to be with me because I am a catch” which consistently leads to the next assumption of “therefore I can treat her well only when it is convenient for me” which is justified by the line of thought that goes something like “because she also knows I am a catch and would rather live with mediocrity rather than be alone” AND “and if she doesn’t like that, I can just replace her, because I am a GOD who (saves lives/is famous/is recognized/makes lots of money/etc.)”.


What continues to blow my mind about how things ended with Jack is that his excuse for constantly leaving me hanging was that he was “busy with work”. Okay, sure. If he’s elbow-deep in someone’s intestines, I don’t expect him to text me back. But you better believe that when I see him blowing up my Instagram and Facebook posts and viewing my Snapchat story but he can’t be bothered to respond to my text, I’m going to get a little pissed. Voyeur ≠ boyfriend material, just FYI. If anything, his constant “checking up” on me with zero direct communication just seemed like he didn’t actually care about having me in his life but just wanted to make sure I didn’t have anyone else other than him. The step-cousin to passive-aggressive, we call this behaviour, passive-possessive.


I don’t know anybody who hasn’t had a completely unattainable crush at some point in their lives (be this a boy in school who doesn’t like you back or an internationally known celebrity). These crushes are so named because that’s exactly what they do to a person. They crush you in at least one of several ways, be it your ability to focus or maintaining your self work or possessing any sort of perspective. All of these things, I’m now realizing, were painfully present in my “situationship” with Jack. I had fully convinced myself that we were falling in love with each other at the same rate, meanwhile I was falling solo and he was completely oblivious. Part of our conversation post-me telling him how I felt was him saying “I didn’t think you were serious when you said you loved me.” You didn’t… think I…



HELLO, lightning bolt, blaring siren, fry-pan to the face, DUH.

I literally was spinning out of control “falling” for this dude meanwhile he was still stuck in the “this is a long distance infatuation thing that we pick up whenever she’s in town and I don’t care much past that because I’m busy saving lives or some shit.”

Let me make it abundantly clear that for the most part, this was to no fault of my own. Because of his action on my social media accounts and the frequency at which he would reply to my messages (before I opened up about my true feelings), I had every reason to believe that he was truly interested because the Demigod likes to entertain his Fangirl. This is because he knows that any time he behaves in a way that is even remotely close to affectionate or genuine, the Fangirl will praise him left, right, and centre for it, which in turn will further inflate his ego. It’s so gross but it’s so true. All he had to do was send me a text saying “Hey, hope your day is going well” and I would SWOON. Like… I don’t swoon when the cashier at CVS tells me to have a good day so why in the hell am I acting like this dude deserves my firstborn just for being mediocre? #fangirlsyndrome.

All of this, and I mean literally all of it, could have been avoided had there been a mature, developed, clarified line of communication between myself and these Demigods of my past. A huge problem as of late is that the status quo changes for one person or the other and no one else is informed of the change. Small wonder that things between Jack and myself didn’t materialize the way I hoped they would, when I was the only one hoping for them to turn into anything beyond a casual vacation cabana-boy hookup scenario. Small freaking wonder.



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