Confessions of a PT's GF: He is a bastard son of extreme good luck

Is it possible to love someone undesirable to begin with? He's a constant back and forth and I don't think I like it. Everything I admired about him was just a face, or a phase. In reality, I think he has no idea what's going on. He is a bastard son of extreme good luck. 

I pity him not because he's lost, but because he doesn't know how to find his way. It's not that he keeps making wrong decisions, it's the lack thereof that's so pitiful. He expects people to make the decisions for him because he's afraid of retaliation. He distances himself from confrontations because he doesn't know how to turn people down. He waits until life turns a page and drags him along anyway.

You know I think the world just stopped teaching him lessons. He's not worth it. 

I finally understand why he keeps women at bay. Two or three women are at his attention because he doesn't know how to choose. He cannot distinguish his choice because he cannot stand confrontations. He doesn't know to handle himself, thus his inability to handle life in itself.

Maybe he's only good at beginnings, at making good impressions. His expertise lies in the courting stage, when women exhibit chemicals that make him seem perfect. Luck has a habit of sticking around him, until time makes an entrance and ruins everything for him. With time, luck has no power. Time releases truth, and his truth isn't exactly admirable.

I used to feel sad about these women, but now I think they must be very lucky to have him out sight. 

Three decades and he survived. He keeps a blind eye to the rough corners along the way because he keeps surviving. Maybe he's just blessed with the right people that supports him. Or just like me, people who pities him. He's a magnet of smart people who sees his potential. And that's how he live. He depends on the decisions people make for him because he takes too long to make it himself. The world learned to drag him along its rotation because what else can it do.

He's a plastic bag that follows the current of life, everyday hopeful that things magically fall into place. He's a piece of paper lost in the whirlwind of life, everyday hopeful that people magically fall into place. 

I used to argue with him, several times in a row, about keeping ground and taking chances. But there is a language gap I cannot close until he goes back to his childhood and his parents teach him the basics. He is a lost cause, whose only survival depends on the frustrations of people around him. And in my frustrations, I am dragging him places, amidst the things undesirable about him.