If you would destroy the evidence, Twittercide, posthaste.
Hell hath no fury like the deluded Tumblr posts of a woman being willingly lied to. That awkward moment when you post 1,000 Tumblr pics of airbrushed models doing all the sex acts you and I have done in real life, to impress someone who is too far away to touch you on a regular basis. Love? You're just an actor. He's writing the script. The paycheck? Hoping you'll provide the confidence and worth he hasn't provided for himself. For you? Pro bono, baby. Wisdom is a long time in coming (at least six months, hundreds of texts, hours on the phone and together in person).
Note to self: Fun is not love. Fun is just fun, even if it is pretty intense, and repeated, and other people seem to think it is love, and you do. It is just fun, even if the other participant in the fun says, "I love you" while looking you right in the eyes, in your own bed, after hours of touching, kissing, and laughing together, and you say it back, and mean it. Creating is always better than copying, quoting, repeating some internet meme, or reblogging.
Often, when someone pointedly states that they don't care about something, they secretly, silently, do.
Half of love is chemistry, laughter, connection. The other half, as in life, is showing up. When someone tells you they're an asshole, believe them. ---------------------------------------- "If he didn't care about you, you couldn't upset him." -- Liza Hempstock, The Graveyard Book (by Neil Gaiman)