Freaking inside out

Omigod. Rereading my post, 'Being believed,' it almost sounds like I have repressed desire for this particular receptionist. Not true! There was someone, who used to be at that office, whom I had the hots for, but it wasn't this person. (Note: I've since edited the post.)

I admit that I'm quite the stereotypical bisexual (hey, Anything That Moves). But it's also true to say that, during these past few years of emotional unwellness, I've been seriously unable to control my sexual energies.[1] I'd give off 'mixed messages' or flirt with everybody and anybody - no matter how inappropriate it was (eg, married people, relatives, folks over 80, etc). This has frustrated me beyond belief. Yet, the harder I tried to curb these tendencies, the worse it would get. Meanwhile, people I've actively pursued, or shown interest in, tend to reject me in a big way. Such is life.

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[1] My claiming psychological or emotional unwellness is probably like saying, I have a bellybutton. At some point, I started to realize most people are just as f*cked-up as I am, but they either hide it better, or perhaps, they don't pick at their wounds the way I do.