I wish I could be one of those cold, heartless men who use women and then forget about them. Life would be a lot simpler. Instead, I’m a sensitive artistic wimp who always ends up broken-hearted. Women claim they want sensitivity, but in my experience, once they find it, they spend all of their energy trying to trample it.
I hate being a sensitive person. It holds me back in everything I do. I want to be a shark–unthinking, unfeeling, uninterested. I guarantee my career would be much better off, and I couldn’t be much more alone than I am now.
Big Owl's Tree 
Ok, I feel I must interject here. First of all, I know you don’t actually wish that.
Secondly, art without sensitivity is empty, vapid and, -to be blunt, not art at all. It is through vulnerability -both personally and universally, that the artist, writer, musician, takes the pains and experiences of daily life and offers us transcendence and meaning. This is what we respond to most; in writing or any other expression. All else is mere entertainment.
There has never been a significant artist who has been “unthinking, unfeeling, uninterested.” You might make some money, but that will in no way quell your loneliness.
Move toward learning discernment between Love and personal choices. I think if you take a cold, unfeeling look, you’ll find Love blameless.