He called me beautiful.  He likes to do that.  He likes to tell me things I know aren’t true.  He said he loved me.  Once he called me his best friend.  Each instance was a moment of overwhelming pain.  I hate to be lied to.  I hate when he feels he has to.  I have never made any demands on him.  I have never asked him to not do something.  I have never asked him to tell me what I want to hear.  I have never asked him to commit to me in any way or form.  And yet he still feels the need to lie to me.  I have never demanded his time or his attentions.  Whatever he wants he can have with my willingness and desire.  I called him an asshole yesterday, or at least I said he could be at times.  He wanted to know when.  When was he an asshole?  I shrugged it off.  What point was there in telling him how much it hurt, when he bestowed false titles on me?  What point was there in telling him that his casual words tore through my being?  I don’t know why I am so obsessed with not demanding anything of him.  I don’t know why I feel so tied to him.  I don’t know what it is that draws me to him.  I don’t know why I need his approval and acceptance.  But I do. I do not need words spoken casually without meaning.  I do not need words spoken mid-coitus. I need to hear them so I will believe them, but I’m not sure if that is possible.  I will not demand anything of him.  I refuse to.  He will not be manipulated by me.