First off, the weight this confession carries is much lighter after simply glancing at the other confessions. Its not much, but thank you for that, though im not sure if that makes me feel relieved or even more guilty….

I’m 31, and a unmarried man. Culturally from my Family and background that is very unusual. I have a reputation of a shallow materialistic man-w****, who prefers one night stands to relationships. Any self-respecting women keeps me at arms length, as well as they probably should.

Nobody in my life knows 8 years ago, in a grand gesture of Romance I hopped on a plane 3000km to tell my best friend (of roughly 7 years to that time) Flowers and Chocolate in hand (LOL), that she was the love of my life, and I wanted to be more than friends. She evidently did not feel the same. Use your imagination, I promise the outcome was far worse.

-Life Lesson: Just because Freddy Prince Jr. did it, does not make it a good idea (that a******)

As time passed, several years later, me and my friend repaired the friendship, with what feels like a silent agreement to never reference my confession again. We simply never spoke about it, like it never happened.

She really is my best friend, nobody knows me better, and the vice versa is true. she still calls me daily for 3h conversations, which are emotionally rewarding, less the occasional special treat of hearing about her latest crush in excruciating detail. in which I swallow my own issues in order to be the ear of a true friend.

The world (and especially my Mother) thinks that my “promiscuous appetite” is what stops me from asking her to be my girlfriend. No one knows its because I wasn’t good enough for her….

Got Pride?… why thank you sir, I’ll have a helping portion of that and nothing more please. lol

The part i feel the most guilty about, is sometimes I wish my best friend would just go away, and leave me alone. As much as I value her, it would be so much easier to bury her memory, and in time convince myself my feelings weren’t real. Than I can stop punishing myself for not being good enough. Maybe meet a nice girl I can have feelings for again, and stop pretending I hate the idea of getting married.

So in Summation- I’m a liar, I’m a pathetic fake. Not only am I not good enough for the Women I love, I’m also a f****** terrible friend.

also, big apology to the dozen or so women over the last decade who actually tried to care about me, that were so upset and off put by my emotional distance. None of you deserved to become fallout to my inability to deal with my own emotions.

Now if I had the Balls to say that to your faces, that may count for something, right?
Lets go ahead and add “weak and fearful” to that list of self loathing shall we?

I need a sticker to disclose “Damaged Goods” that’ll save us all some headache.

Best Case scenario – I die of a heart attack, under a pile of hookers and cocaine, and save myself the embarrassment of the world finding out I’m a (failed) romantic.

-Anyone have Charlie Sheen’s number?

and Yes, confessing to the world what a pathetic awful person I am, has made me feel better. Why is that?