So, anyway, it's been long, long, *very* long time since I've dated. And longer still since I've been physically intimate with a guy. I honestly don't remember what it feels like to be kissed...and I am honestly mortified that I just made that confession to the PC world My problem is that I feel profoundly unworthy of love, companionship, intimacy. I've got 10,000 reasons (at last count) why a guy should bypass me in the meat market and pick the next one over, or the one beside her, or anyone besides me, and I don't know if I'm being too hard on myself or if I've done the right thing by removing myself from the dating scene. Not only do I have these lovely treatment-resistant anxiety and depressive disorders, but I've got chronic health issues, as well. I am the total loser package

I'd actually resigned myself to being single for the rest of my life and living in a physical intimacy bubble - can't do hook-ups and just won't go there - until I met this guy. Oh my gosh...it was an instant, intense chemical reaction. And it genuinely seemed as if he felt the same way. It was awesome! Two socially awkward weirdos clicking as well as two socially awkward weirdos can. And then he clammed up, got a bit distant, and I haven't heard from him since I don't know if he lost interest, was consumed by a black cloud of depression, put up a mental wall of defense against twu wuv, or what. All I know is that our brief encounter stirred emotions that I thought I'd buried and left to rot. And now I want it all again...I don't want to be alone anymore. But the confidence just isn't there. I don't feel as If I have anything to offer anyone. I'm broken and defective, a mess from head to toe. I probably always will be. So I guess that means I should give up and crawl back into my dank, echoey underground cave of loneliness, right?