The end of the road

The proverbial straw broke the camel's back this morning. After 2 months of accomodating my boyfriend's hectic study schedule, and a total of 9 months of patiently interpreting the emotional hieroglyphics of a detached man, today was the first day he had a free moment. He woke up in my bed at 11:30, and left. I was stunned and hurt; I have never dated a man who seemed so averse to spending time with me. This has steadily chipped away at me, and today I felt like I had literally been smacked across the face. You stupid girl! Why would you think you ranked higher? He's busy, he has commitments, he has priorities. I alternated from being furious, to being hurt and gutted.
We had a heated discussion over the phone shortly after he left. It began with him explaining that things will change, that I am a priority, that it would be cheap to tell me he loves me over the phone, but in fact he does. In my mind, I knew that there is nothing cheaper than a man telling you he loves you only because he knows he is about to get dumped. I grew progressively more and more frustrated; for a man of so few words, he operated like a litigator. Before I knew it, the conversation had turned, and the man I was so devastated to see leave my arms went on the offensive, essentially painting me to be a needy girlfriend who demanded too much.
Do I demand too much? I have asked myself this question since this relationship, if it can be called that, really took off: am I too needy? These puppy dog boyfriends that I so enjoy, men who are delighted to be with me, say "Sure, love, wherever you want to go", who seem proud to hold my hand....did they spoil me? I told my father one night that I want a man who adores me; he said, "Buy a dog". So I am looking for a balance, someone with his own life and ambition and dreams, who thinks that I am worth having and sharing with.
As I walked home tonight my stomach kept lurching, and I resisted crying every few blocks. How little do I value myself? I express my unhappiness to my boyfriend, and he can't be bothered to call or write on the same evening to try and hold on to me. How little does he care? I think I will be much cooler with the next man I date; I have trained myself to be satisfied with so little affection and communication that I will be grateful when the next boyfriend says, "Shall we get breakfast?"
This frustration isn't the result of one morning; it is 9 months of slights and coldness. You can't make someone love you more, or see why you are valuable. It is beating your head against a brick wall, and the wall wins.
I can't do this again, can't knowingly settle into a relationship that will never work. I don't know how people survive divorce; silly break ups never get easier, no matter how many I go through.