You wanted to be friends? You really wanted us to get along? Seriously?
You should have thought of that before you betrayed me in such a hideous fashion, worse than any friend ever would. You should have considered that before you told me you loved me in one breath, and then turned around and dropped me with hardly an explanation for some girl who threw herself at you in the next. You should have pondered whether this was a possibility before you were such a pussy that you refused to talk to me in person. You should have known better than to request such a thing after you knew how badly you have shattered me.
Maybe you should have considered not wasting a year and a half of my life that could have been better spent on someone actually worth it. After all, if this was how you thought of me, then why the hell were you ever with me to begin with?
No way. Fuck you, you lying, deceitful, heartless son of a bitch. Fuck you. And your little dog too.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Reasons Why I'm Better Off Without Him
AKA An Exercise In Talking Myself Out Of Still Loving Him And Into Believing I Can Find Someone Better- in no particular order and not all-inclusive.
1. Very often, he doesn't listen to a word you are saying. He would look like he was listening, but in reality, he was thinking about that article in Harper's, or something he read in some philosophy book, or what he heard Amy Goodman say on Democracy Now! today. He'd even do that annoying thing where he'd say 'yeah' and 'uh huh' like he was listening and responding to you, but then had no idea what you just said.
2. He couldn't remember shit. To this day, he doesn't know my birthday. Even though it is six days before his. He couldn't remember my school or work schedule, anything. This goes along with not listening. Because usually I had just told him 10 minutes previous.
3. He 'bumbles' around. There is no efficiency or dexterity in any action he undertakes. This is hard to explain. But basically, everything he does, he bumbles, fumbles, or muddles through it. It's sort of like perpetual clumsiness.
4. He is HAIRY. Not something he can control, I know. But the number of times I have shaved his back for him... yeah. Not something I minded at all, but not exactly something I'm going to miss either.
5. Two things... The Dick Scar and the ever-present bottle of Lomotil (Diphenoxylate HCl/Atropine sulfate for you pharmageeks). I will not elaborate, but these things give away a mental/emotional fragility. Dealing with everyday stress has the ability to get the better of him. And he would allow things that he had absolutely zero control over (like the appointment of Obama's cabinet and that... those sorts of things) to eat him up with anxiety for days. He doesn't really externalize his anxiety, but he really is one of the most anxious people I've ever met.
6. His affection could be overwhelming. It's nice to have an affectionate partner, but sometimes it would border on needy. Also, in his mind, affection does not include things like cuddling or hugging or just being near each other. His definition of affection is sex. That's it. When he dumped me he said "We're hardly ever affectionate any more" which meant that I didn't fuck him enough recently. Never mind that I've been under a ridiculous amount of stress and basically felt like shit all the time. And he never bothered to communicate to me his own need for more 'affection', so I didn't know it bothered him that much. Somehow that was my fault for not being psychic.
7. He can be a creepster. He admitted to me that once, before we were dating, when he'd come over to my house after the bars closed and we'd watched a movie... I fell asleep during the movie. He said that he'd looked down my shirt while I was asleep. Like, pulled the shirt away and taken a look at my tits. Sorry, but that is just sketchy behavior.
8. He's kind of a pussy. This one has the potential to be long... Sentimental is nice. Needy is not. He can't watch scary movies. He passes out if he sees more than a little blood. He has major anxiety over things that are no big deal. He won't stand up to anyone, and allows just about everyone he knows to use him or take advantage of him. He won't make any major changes or decisions that require effort on his part, even when it's something he wants. He kept saying he wanted to go back to school- hasn't even taken a first step towards that. He pussed out and gave up on love because it wasn't perfect 100% of the time, and couldn't be bothered to actually attempt real communication to tell me that he needed something- it was easier to just run away. He still gets his parents to send him shit when he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself and has a job that lets him be financially comfortable. He is afraid of life, it seems, and prefers to maintain a predictable, mundane existence that doesn't shake anything up.
9. "Kimberly". Yeah. He's got a back-up for when he doesn't have a girlfriend. Now, this isn't really an offense to judge since most girls have at least one toy of their own, but still... His disembodied latex vagina has a name.
10. He wanted me to scratch his back or rub his calloused hands every five minutes, but would bitch and moan when I asked him for a backrub twice a week. He also didn't understand why I did not want to pop his giant back zits for him. Gross.
11. He doesn't like animals. And didn't understand that I do.
12. He's a flake, he has no loyalty, and he doesn't value love at all. He claimed to love me, but thought a little crush was worth throwing it all away permanently (I offered a break so he could figure out what he wanted- not good enough). Then a few days later he claimed (as did she) he had no intentions of trying to date her, though pretty much the only reason he gave me for breaking up with me was that he'd "fallen for her". This was after he slept in the same bed with her, but didn't cheat... He used the excuse of knowing her for a few years... so what? You've know me for a few years. You also pursued me for at least one of those years. Did he love her? No. But it didn't matter. He wanted to try something with her, said he was not going to stop spending time with her regardless of how I felt, he claimed she'd come on to him, and said he would probably cheat on me with her if she did again. Though he said he loved me, and not her. Oddly enough, he also basically called her a slut while saying he hadn't cheated yet... "Everyone else has slept with her, but I haven't." His words... Nice thing to say about someone you've 'fallen for'. Yes, these are the things he actually said to me, I could not make this kind of shit up, nor would I want to because I don't like to hurt people that way. Worthless, flaky human being. Whatever. For all I know, nothing ever happened after this. Or they fell madly in love and are going to have babies together. Either way, his wishy-washy, flaky, love-doesn't-matter-nor-does-the-person-I-say-I-love-and-who-loves-me bullshit can belong to someone else from now on, because I deserve better.
13. He's boring. He didn't get the nickname "Old Man Ross" for no reason. He may as well already be 60 years old.
14. He didn't want me. That is reason enough.
1. Very often, he doesn't listen to a word you are saying. He would look like he was listening, but in reality, he was thinking about that article in Harper's, or something he read in some philosophy book, or what he heard Amy Goodman say on Democracy Now! today. He'd even do that annoying thing where he'd say 'yeah' and 'uh huh' like he was listening and responding to you, but then had no idea what you just said.
2. He couldn't remember shit. To this day, he doesn't know my birthday. Even though it is six days before his. He couldn't remember my school or work schedule, anything. This goes along with not listening. Because usually I had just told him 10 minutes previous.
3. He 'bumbles' around. There is no efficiency or dexterity in any action he undertakes. This is hard to explain. But basically, everything he does, he bumbles, fumbles, or muddles through it. It's sort of like perpetual clumsiness.
4. He is HAIRY. Not something he can control, I know. But the number of times I have shaved his back for him... yeah. Not something I minded at all, but not exactly something I'm going to miss either.
5. Two things... The Dick Scar and the ever-present bottle of Lomotil (Diphenoxylate HCl/Atropine sulfate for you pharmageeks). I will not elaborate, but these things give away a mental/emotional fragility. Dealing with everyday stress has the ability to get the better of him. And he would allow things that he had absolutely zero control over (like the appointment of Obama's cabinet and that... those sorts of things) to eat him up with anxiety for days. He doesn't really externalize his anxiety, but he really is one of the most anxious people I've ever met.
6. His affection could be overwhelming. It's nice to have an affectionate partner, but sometimes it would border on needy. Also, in his mind, affection does not include things like cuddling or hugging or just being near each other. His definition of affection is sex. That's it. When he dumped me he said "We're hardly ever affectionate any more" which meant that I didn't fuck him enough recently. Never mind that I've been under a ridiculous amount of stress and basically felt like shit all the time. And he never bothered to communicate to me his own need for more 'affection', so I didn't know it bothered him that much. Somehow that was my fault for not being psychic.
7. He can be a creepster. He admitted to me that once, before we were dating, when he'd come over to my house after the bars closed and we'd watched a movie... I fell asleep during the movie. He said that he'd looked down my shirt while I was asleep. Like, pulled the shirt away and taken a look at my tits. Sorry, but that is just sketchy behavior.
8. He's kind of a pussy. This one has the potential to be long... Sentimental is nice. Needy is not. He can't watch scary movies. He passes out if he sees more than a little blood. He has major anxiety over things that are no big deal. He won't stand up to anyone, and allows just about everyone he knows to use him or take advantage of him. He won't make any major changes or decisions that require effort on his part, even when it's something he wants. He kept saying he wanted to go back to school- hasn't even taken a first step towards that. He pussed out and gave up on love because it wasn't perfect 100% of the time, and couldn't be bothered to actually attempt real communication to tell me that he needed something- it was easier to just run away. He still gets his parents to send him shit when he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself and has a job that lets him be financially comfortable. He is afraid of life, it seems, and prefers to maintain a predictable, mundane existence that doesn't shake anything up.
9. "Kimberly". Yeah. He's got a back-up for when he doesn't have a girlfriend. Now, this isn't really an offense to judge since most girls have at least one toy of their own, but still... His disembodied latex vagina has a name.
10. He wanted me to scratch his back or rub his calloused hands every five minutes, but would bitch and moan when I asked him for a backrub twice a week. He also didn't understand why I did not want to pop his giant back zits for him. Gross.
11. He doesn't like animals. And didn't understand that I do.
12. He's a flake, he has no loyalty, and he doesn't value love at all. He claimed to love me, but thought a little crush was worth throwing it all away permanently (I offered a break so he could figure out what he wanted- not good enough). Then a few days later he claimed (as did she) he had no intentions of trying to date her, though pretty much the only reason he gave me for breaking up with me was that he'd "fallen for her". This was after he slept in the same bed with her, but didn't cheat... He used the excuse of knowing her for a few years... so what? You've know me for a few years. You also pursued me for at least one of those years. Did he love her? No. But it didn't matter. He wanted to try something with her, said he was not going to stop spending time with her regardless of how I felt, he claimed she'd come on to him, and said he would probably cheat on me with her if she did again. Though he said he loved me, and not her. Oddly enough, he also basically called her a slut while saying he hadn't cheated yet... "Everyone else has slept with her, but I haven't." His words... Nice thing to say about someone you've 'fallen for'. Yes, these are the things he actually said to me, I could not make this kind of shit up, nor would I want to because I don't like to hurt people that way. Worthless, flaky human being. Whatever. For all I know, nothing ever happened after this. Or they fell madly in love and are going to have babies together. Either way, his wishy-washy, flaky, love-doesn't-matter-nor-does-the-person-I-say-I-love-and-who-loves-me bullshit can belong to someone else from now on, because I deserve better.
13. He's boring. He didn't get the nickname "Old Man Ross" for no reason. He may as well already be 60 years old.
14. He didn't want me. That is reason enough.
Reasons Why I Loved Him
AKA A Study In Remembering Why I Was With Him In A Time When I Sort Of Think He's A Piece Of Shit- in no particular order and not all-inclusive.
1. He was generally nice to me. Outside of momentary inadvertent lapses of selfishness, he was nice.
2. He's affectionate. He liked to hold my hand. In public. But wouldn't get gross with the PDA or anything like that.
3. He liked to dance. And would dance with me even though I'm awful. He's not that great either, but it's fun. And all the gay boys were jealous.
4. He liked to just cuddle on the couch and watch movies.
5. We liked, and liked to make fun of, the same things. Often times he would say something, and I would say, 'You know, I was just about to say that...".
6. We have similar senses of humor. Generally inappropriate, but funny. Only he would have appreciated the Valentine's Day card I gave him. Anyone else would have not found it funny at all.
7. He seemed to genuinely care about me. (For a while, at least...) He didn't try to keep his distance.
8. He told me he loved me. Much sooner than I liked, as it freaked me out for a while, but still he said it.
9. I just felt comfortable with him. Awkward silence didn't happen. Silence was just fine.
10. I also felt safe with him. Not in that 'my big burly man will protect me' sense, but I felt I didn't have to hide anything about who I am, and after a while trusted him more than just about anyone. I felt safe in that he wouldn't desert me, wouldn't flake like guys tend to do and all that. Granted, I was obviously wrong about this, but it was one thing that bonded him to me.
11. He reads books. And newspapers. He reads things with substance, not just brainless shit. And he gets excited about these things. He's a dork.
12. He didn't have a conquest list a mile long. He wasn't a man whore. It was nice to not have to be seriously concerned about catching something from him. But he didn't hide his history either. He did go to Amsterdam... and yes, he did tell me that he partook in ALL the wares they sell there...
13. He eats meat. Important, because I like meat. So nice to spend time with someone who will grill a steak with you.
14. Before we were dating, he came over to my house after the bars closed and hung out. Later that morning, after the sun started to come up, we played in front of my house, throwing those little "Snaps" things at each other- you know, those little paper-wrapped gunpowder packets you can buy around the 4th of July? Those things. It was tons of fun.
15. I just did. Because it was right. I saw a future in him, and nave never seen that with anyone else. I wanted a family with him. That for sure has never happened with anyone else.
1. He was generally nice to me. Outside of momentary inadvertent lapses of selfishness, he was nice.
2. He's affectionate. He liked to hold my hand. In public. But wouldn't get gross with the PDA or anything like that.
3. He liked to dance. And would dance with me even though I'm awful. He's not that great either, but it's fun. And all the gay boys were jealous.
4. He liked to just cuddle on the couch and watch movies.
5. We liked, and liked to make fun of, the same things. Often times he would say something, and I would say, 'You know, I was just about to say that...".
6. We have similar senses of humor. Generally inappropriate, but funny. Only he would have appreciated the Valentine's Day card I gave him. Anyone else would have not found it funny at all.
7. He seemed to genuinely care about me. (For a while, at least...) He didn't try to keep his distance.
8. He told me he loved me. Much sooner than I liked, as it freaked me out for a while, but still he said it.
9. I just felt comfortable with him. Awkward silence didn't happen. Silence was just fine.
10. I also felt safe with him. Not in that 'my big burly man will protect me' sense, but I felt I didn't have to hide anything about who I am, and after a while trusted him more than just about anyone. I felt safe in that he wouldn't desert me, wouldn't flake like guys tend to do and all that. Granted, I was obviously wrong about this, but it was one thing that bonded him to me.
11. He reads books. And newspapers. He reads things with substance, not just brainless shit. And he gets excited about these things. He's a dork.
12. He didn't have a conquest list a mile long. He wasn't a man whore. It was nice to not have to be seriously concerned about catching something from him. But he didn't hide his history either. He did go to Amsterdam... and yes, he did tell me that he partook in ALL the wares they sell there...
13. He eats meat. Important, because I like meat. So nice to spend time with someone who will grill a steak with you.
14. Before we were dating, he came over to my house after the bars closed and hung out. Later that morning, after the sun started to come up, we played in front of my house, throwing those little "Snaps" things at each other- you know, those little paper-wrapped gunpowder packets you can buy around the 4th of July? Those things. It was tons of fun.
15. I just did. Because it was right. I saw a future in him, and nave never seen that with anyone else. I wanted a family with him. That for sure has never happened with anyone else.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
A Word About These Here Blogs
I realize that I've been harping about the same bullshit here for the past few weeks. So I just wanted to throw a word or two out there about all this.
This is for me. It's not really for any of you. I am not one that often openly shares my thoughts or feelings, particularly in person. I feel it's my business and I shouldn't bother anyone with my personal shit. I'm not a big 'talk-things-out' person for the most part. However, I do need to get a lot of this recent crap out of my head and off my chest, and writing all this junk is the easiest and best way for me to do so. I could use a paper journal, but I find them cumbersome and besides, we all know this is the digital age; someday we'll be telling kids about long ago when books came IN THEIR OWN CONTAINERS! And they were made of this thing called paper. When you wanted to read something else, you had to get a separate container. And sometimes this thing you used called a bookmark would fall out and you'd curse and bitch until you found where you were again... so I write here.
As for why I chose to make all this public; once again it's a glimpse into the real me and the real shit in my head. And I've been called a lot of things, but I've never been accused of not being real or genuine, of being a fake or a poseur or coated with a facade. Also, I make them public because I myself do enjoy reading the notes/blogs/spewings of others. It was always a let down when you'd click on a new blog post here and get 'this blog is private. only the user can see it'. Damn it. I wanna see. It's voyeuristic, yes, but every single one of you is a voyeur too. Don't lie. Because if you weren't, you wouldn't be here, keeping up your own pages. For what is all this Social Networking if not a perfect study in Vanity And Voyeurism?
So, once again, this is for me. And in turn, you get to spy into my being. If I bring you down, sorry. Don't read it. If you are tired of me bitching, too bad. Don't read it. If you're going to judge me and my cynical and sarcastic views, fuck you. Don't read it.
I don't expect comments, but if you want to, go for it. But I don't really want your advice- particularly in regards to my latest diatribes because...
A) Any advice you give me has been heard before. It is not original. It's probably in a song lyric somewhere.
B) No one except me can really truly know how I feel. Yes, this sucks. I know, you know. But this sucks more for me than anything else ever has. This one hurts tremendously. I did really think I had found my one true love; that I had finally found the place I was meant to be and the person I was meant to be with for the rest of my life. Coming from someone like me- someone who keeps most people at a safe distance; this is not a belief or statement to be taken lightly. The few of you who know me get this. The rest of you, not so much.
C) Because we all know that all that advice is contrived and rather pointless; feel-good words for a feel-bad situation. "Forget him" "You're better off" "Just get over it"... we all know that it just doesn't work that way. At least not if there was honest and real emotion involved.
So, in conclusion. Yes, I am going to keep writing what I want. It will probably be shit you don't care about. Yes, it will probably be more of the same for now- mopey, me-and-my-heartbreak, sentimental mash. Or maybe not. Regardless... My blog, my brain, my bullshitting.
Isn't the internet great?
This is for me. It's not really for any of you. I am not one that often openly shares my thoughts or feelings, particularly in person. I feel it's my business and I shouldn't bother anyone with my personal shit. I'm not a big 'talk-things-out' person for the most part. However, I do need to get a lot of this recent crap out of my head and off my chest, and writing all this junk is the easiest and best way for me to do so. I could use a paper journal, but I find them cumbersome and besides, we all know this is the digital age; someday we'll be telling kids about long ago when books came IN THEIR OWN CONTAINERS! And they were made of this thing called paper. When you wanted to read something else, you had to get a separate container. And sometimes this thing you used called a bookmark would fall out and you'd curse and bitch until you found where you were again... so I write here.
As for why I chose to make all this public; once again it's a glimpse into the real me and the real shit in my head. And I've been called a lot of things, but I've never been accused of not being real or genuine, of being a fake or a poseur or coated with a facade. Also, I make them public because I myself do enjoy reading the notes/blogs/spewings of others. It was always a let down when you'd click on a new blog post here and get 'this blog is private. only the user can see it'. Damn it. I wanna see. It's voyeuristic, yes, but every single one of you is a voyeur too. Don't lie. Because if you weren't, you wouldn't be here, keeping up your own pages. For what is all this Social Networking if not a perfect study in Vanity And Voyeurism?
So, once again, this is for me. And in turn, you get to spy into my being. If I bring you down, sorry. Don't read it. If you are tired of me bitching, too bad. Don't read it. If you're going to judge me and my cynical and sarcastic views, fuck you. Don't read it.
I don't expect comments, but if you want to, go for it. But I don't really want your advice- particularly in regards to my latest diatribes because...
A) Any advice you give me has been heard before. It is not original. It's probably in a song lyric somewhere.
B) No one except me can really truly know how I feel. Yes, this sucks. I know, you know. But this sucks more for me than anything else ever has. This one hurts tremendously. I did really think I had found my one true love; that I had finally found the place I was meant to be and the person I was meant to be with for the rest of my life. Coming from someone like me- someone who keeps most people at a safe distance; this is not a belief or statement to be taken lightly. The few of you who know me get this. The rest of you, not so much.
C) Because we all know that all that advice is contrived and rather pointless; feel-good words for a feel-bad situation. "Forget him" "You're better off" "Just get over it"... we all know that it just doesn't work that way. At least not if there was honest and real emotion involved.
So, in conclusion. Yes, I am going to keep writing what I want. It will probably be shit you don't care about. Yes, it will probably be more of the same for now- mopey, me-and-my-heartbreak, sentimental mash. Or maybe not. Regardless... My blog, my brain, my bullshitting.
Isn't the internet great?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Hypothermia
Hypothermia is scientifically known to impair the immune system; thus it is believed that hypothermia can delay healing and lead to a higher incidence of post-operative infection.
Perhaps this is why these cold nights only make my heart ache even more.
I want nothing more than to be back where I should be. Where I was happy. Where I had finally found my place. Where I belonged (to someone).
Instead I'm cold, inside and out. I alternate between sadness and anger, and have found I prefer to be angry. Because then I can stave off the sadness; unfortunately it does inevitably follow.
All I can do now is wish to never see him again, to forget he ever existed. This will be made easier once I have planned a proper escape from this town.
"I hope we can be friends"... No. Fuck you. Go to hell. Never speak to me again. (I love you more than you could have ever imagined).
Perhaps this is why these cold nights only make my heart ache even more.
I want nothing more than to be back where I should be. Where I was happy. Where I had finally found my place. Where I belonged (to someone).
Instead I'm cold, inside and out. I alternate between sadness and anger, and have found I prefer to be angry. Because then I can stave off the sadness; unfortunately it does inevitably follow.
All I can do now is wish to never see him again, to forget he ever existed. This will be made easier once I have planned a proper escape from this town.
"I hope we can be friends"... No. Fuck you. Go to hell. Never speak to me again. (I love you more than you could have ever imagined).
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Dreams Vs. Reality
In my Dreams, he is waiting for me in my room when I get home. He tells me how badly he has missed me, and that in this time apart he has realized exactly how much he does love me. He says he's changed his mind and wants to try and work this through. He hugs me and apologizes for the pain this has caused, and promises to make it better. For those few moments before waking, I am in pure bliss. What power our Dreams can have! But only while we're sleeping...
Then I open my eyes and mentally fall into Reality.
Upon entering Reality, I know that he is probably already over me. That he is happy to no longer be required to devote time to someone he didn't ever really want to be with, and probably misses me about as much as most people miss dysentery. To him, I have become nothing more than a blip on the screen of his past as he regains his freedom to find something better.
In this Reality, I then spend the rest of my waking hours struggling to keep the sickening hollow sensation within me from bursting forth from my eyes as hot sticky tears. I fight to keep thoughts of him from invading each and every activity of the day, diverting my attention from matters I need to be addressing. I resist with everything I have to not reach out to him in a futile, and ultimately pathetic, effort to make him understand me, to make him come back to me.
By the end of the day, this Reality has worn me thin and that hollow feeling finally overtakes the floodgates. The levees break, and the tears flow freely as I slowly drift back into the fairy tale ending of my Dreams, which come again to give me a brief reprieve until the next morning arrives.
In my Dreams, Love always wins. In Reality, it's nothing more than a four letter word.
Then I open my eyes and mentally fall into Reality.
Upon entering Reality, I know that he is probably already over me. That he is happy to no longer be required to devote time to someone he didn't ever really want to be with, and probably misses me about as much as most people miss dysentery. To him, I have become nothing more than a blip on the screen of his past as he regains his freedom to find something better.
In this Reality, I then spend the rest of my waking hours struggling to keep the sickening hollow sensation within me from bursting forth from my eyes as hot sticky tears. I fight to keep thoughts of him from invading each and every activity of the day, diverting my attention from matters I need to be addressing. I resist with everything I have to not reach out to him in a futile, and ultimately pathetic, effort to make him understand me, to make him come back to me.
By the end of the day, this Reality has worn me thin and that hollow feeling finally overtakes the floodgates. The levees break, and the tears flow freely as I slowly drift back into the fairy tale ending of my Dreams, which come again to give me a brief reprieve until the next morning arrives.
In my Dreams, Love always wins. In Reality, it's nothing more than a four letter word.
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