Today I thought to myself, "I wonder if I'm bipolar."
Lately my emotions have been quite up and down, and my mind absolutely consumed with thoughts ranging from the importance we place upon things like money and social status to the good old "does he like me does he like me?" but I've had no relief. I wish so badly to have nothing to think about for one moment. I want an open sky and a clear mind, but I'm reminded constantly of my schedule and obligations and such.
I'm suffering from the things in my mind not necessarily matching up with reality. An imagination is good only if I'm able to live the experiences I imagine for real, right?
I talked to one of my best friends for a long time today. She told me she was having trouble coming to terms with who she is, versus who she was in the past and wishes she could be. Sometimes I think humans would be better off with only short term memories and we could float through life with a new beginning every day or week. No matter how independent I am, I will never be free from my past.
How does someone get over the past? I can't really remember when I stopped crying about my first love every day. I was in a constant state of sadness, and it was such a shame. The people who knew me most were so confused and worried. I would wake up and think, "this is the day I'm done with all of it! I feel so great!" but by the time I was lying in bed at night, I was crying and wishing to go back in time. That was the only experience I wished for, to have again and again the feeling that someone loved me. Because it's damn hard to live without it once you've had it.
Now, I almost never cry. If I do, it's usually about water polo or my grades. But it's because I feel empty.
It's really frustrating to know that my options are to trust, love, and open myself up to hurt while in a relationship or talking to someone like my best friend, who's been badly disappointed. Or to be alone. And no matter how much I love my friends, there is nothing sweeter than falling asleep next to someone's breathing and snoring, waking up with their arms around you, and being the first thing they see when they wake up. Why is nature so vicious? It feels terrible to want someone, but it's what we do until we die.
So which do I choose?
I feel I've been so many people in my life already; I've been madly in love, more depressed than I could ever have imagined myself being, and now I feel like the toughest, least trusting version of me. But how can I make myself trust men when all I've ever known is the feeling of being stupid, gullible, misguided?
The truth is that there is no trick.
I will always be a little off balance. I will always have doubts. I will always have those bad memories to propagate the doubts that arise. One day, I'll meet someone who will make me know how much I mean to him, will be proud to call me his, and will make sure I'm always the first thing he sees when he wakes up.
One day - the saddest thing to say
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Sense and Sensibility
The beginning of the weekend starts with exclamation marks, and the end of the weekend is dotted with question marks.
Thursday night was amazing. It started with a vodka shot...
First let me say, this was not a random hookup. This guy I've known for a month or so, but probably met at least once last year. He's a roommate of one of my close platonic male friends. We've always gotten along, and I always thought he was too hot for me (ha ha... I have my moments.) We've never exchanged numbers or expressed any interest in each other besides talking a whole lot when I'm already there for a party. We're like fairweather friends who happen to have meaningful conversations whilst slightly tipsy.
We started to play poker the other night, teaching Beatrice and Petunia how to play and I of course getting increasingly more competitive with each round (and each drink, most likely). Competition is almost a fault of mine, where I desire to absolutely destroy everyone with whom I'm playing a game. Any game. I start talking shit like all the boys I hang out with, and probably sound upwards of ridiculous.
After everyone got tired of losing to my competitive ass, we all just hung around talking and listening to music. Then the inevitable Clarence-me intense conversation commenced and we were standing there staring in each other's eyes and covering topics most likely covered in a religion or philosophy class... prompting "Wtf" looks from everyone else I'm sure.
Such a sucker for good conversation.
Beatrice and Petunia left because they had things to do in the morning, but I was sufficiently inebriated and decided to stay and talk some more (literally, that went through my mind: I want to keep talking! not: I want to sleep with him, oddly.) We played video games (because that totally turns me on? UH??) and I think by some act of God I won one. There really had to be some divine intervention there because I'm totally uncoordinated.
"Do you want to just sleep with me?"
"Yeah, sure."
So it begun. Cuddle. Cuddle. So cute looking back on it I could gag. Neither of us had actually done it in a really long time. I mean... I felt it prudent to do so.
"I really like you... I like that you think about different things, and you're so confident... "
-"but?"
"No 'but'."
We talked about relationships, and he said he didn't want to be in one because he doesn't want all his time to be taken up with one person. Who the heck are these guys dating these days? The most clingy girls in the freaking hemisphere? I think I was tired/still tipsy enough to be sassy and say, "Well it's not like you get to take up all of my life, either!"
And I can say I was being honest.
He warned me that he was going to wake up and want to have sex again. My kind of guy. We woke up and cuddled some more, and he told me I could keep him warm. Why is this so damn cute? UGH. So there I was, laying on top of him, rubbing noses like some fucking scene from Bambi, and he started massaging my always tired and sore back muscles. I'm not sure if he knew that he was being perfect. P-e-r-f-e-c-t.
I felt like we were a married couple... who happened to be in their 20s or something. He made me oatmeal for breakfast, and kept telling me how different I am. (Can you tell I want to remember this forever?) We say there in his bed, me in my underwear, him in his clothes about to leave for class, and taking spoonfuls of my oatmeal every now and then. He told me to stay as long I wanted, and kissed me goodbye...
I want to remember this because it was so perfect. And because perfection is so fleeting, and so subjective to perspective...
Something made me not leave my number. I thought about it, very hard actually. I thought about leaving him a note by his bed, saying I want to see him again. What made me not do it?
For the first time in my life, I want to hide, and be found again.
However, this want is complicated. I know I can't go to my friend's apartment and not see Clarence. Not talk to Clarence. Maybe I should only go in day time. I don't want to jeopardize my platonic friendship though and never show up. But I don't want Clarence to think I'm down to be in a friends with benefits type of situation with him.
He's too amazing for that. And I'm too special.
This marks a point in adulthood for me. For once, I'm able to leave something at its original state for the sake of other people, and the sake of staying true to myself. I know that if I slept with him even one more time, I would get more attached. I would have feelings deeper than his (at least I think so, if he's a red-blooded American boy like every other one I've ever known). I know that I am worth the effort of a relationship, of chasing me down.
I'm precious, and I know it. I think he knows it. But I will never believe action always follows thought. He might not do a damn thing; he 99% likely won't do a damn thing. It doesn't mean I don't wish I could have that night over and over, because I do. But how many times have I tried to get what I want, and it is a total dramatic failure nuclear wasteland of a friendship afterwards?
Lightning has struck me too many times to go sit out in the rain.
Commitmentphobia
One of my dearest friends, Kathy, has been dating Eustice for about six months. From everyone's perspective in our friend group, the pair are well suited to each other and seem very happy. They go on ice cream dates all the time (too cute) and have spent a lot of time together, when you add it all up. She's quiet in groups, but is one of the funniest people I know when you get her to open up. She's tall and gorgeous and an amazing swimmer. He's also a really cool guy, someone who met her and knew like all her friends know, that she is a catch. All her friends could appreciate that.
However, the guy won't commit.
It boggles the female brain that a guy would spend so much time with a wonderful girl, but leave her hanging when it comes to a label. Sorry guys, we want a label after trusting you with our hearts and secrets and time for six months. It's really not too much to ask!
So when Kathy confronted Eustice about the status of their relationship, he became defensive and wouldn't give her a real answer. She was obviously upset, but he didn't offer comfort, rather distanced himself and gave irritatingly ambiguous answers to her and her nosy friends. What are we? became Are you going to love me forever and ever and marry me so we can be happily ever after? in his mind. Speaking from having many a conversation with Kathy, the latter question was nowhere close to what she meant.
How can she be blamed for wanting to know if he is going to up and disappear without notice? Why did he become so defensive at that question when he texts her constantly and wants to spend time with her practically every weekend? Why is this a surprise to him after six months?
Then came the blatant idiocy on his part (though normally he appears to be an intelligent person.) He texted another girl in our friend group. How poorly chosen. How poorly timed. How fishy.
The worst feeling in the world is telling someone you love, something that will hurt them.
This is a point of contingency between my mother and I. My mother always tells me I shouldn't be the bearer of bad news, that telling someone what you know will hurt them and causes you to become part of unnecessary drama. In fact, I feel guilty thinking about what my mother would say to Beatrice and I telling our best friend Kathy that her boyfriend is acting suspiciously.
"But you don't KNOW what Eustice was thinking when he texted your friend!" she would say.
I trust intuition above anything else. All the times where I have been most hurt and ended up crying on the floor, or on the bus, or in the car, or during a swim set, it was because I didn't trust my intuition, and trusted a man instead. Call me a man hater (I'm not, really) - but the feeling of betraying myself is that of the utmost stupidity... and I didn't want Kathy to feel that way.
How terrible would I feel if my friends knew for the longest time that my love interest was being sketchy and texting my friends behind my back? And they never told me??? I'd be petrified with humiliation. Thus, the decision was made and Beatrice and myself told Kathy about the wandering eye.
As I always do, I have come up with a theory about Eustice.
I think that he feels social pressure to be "single" (although he's kind of been seriously dating someone for six months, uh FAIL on the being single, Eustice.) Men in college are like sheep falling off a stupidity cliff. How else can keg stands be explained? Or streaking? Or drinking until they puke? Their caveman instincts are in full force until they graduate college and realize that those four or five or six years were meaningless without the people they loved the whole time. I know I'm being slightly unfair here, but you watch your best friend cry for an hour and then try to be fair towards the opposite gender.
I think he's waiting around for Carmen Electra to be reincarnated into someone college-age who would realistically date him. Which is unrealistic and shallow. Can she hold a conversation? NO.
I think he loves Kathy. But loving someone doesn't mean you're in love (as an ex boyfriend once said, oh so poetically) and it doesn't make you become wiser immediately. In fact, I think loving someone makes you act ten times more irrationally than you would act for a friend. That would explain Kathy putting up with six months of wishy-washy answers. And I will defend her to the end, it's sure as hell not her fault.
So what are we supposed to do about the male gender until they snap out of it?
Just put up with it?
Get our hearts broken habitually?
Become nuns?
Act as badly as they do?
However, the guy won't commit.
It boggles the female brain that a guy would spend so much time with a wonderful girl, but leave her hanging when it comes to a label. Sorry guys, we want a label after trusting you with our hearts and secrets and time for six months. It's really not too much to ask!
So when Kathy confronted Eustice about the status of their relationship, he became defensive and wouldn't give her a real answer. She was obviously upset, but he didn't offer comfort, rather distanced himself and gave irritatingly ambiguous answers to her and her nosy friends. What are we? became Are you going to love me forever and ever and marry me so we can be happily ever after? in his mind. Speaking from having many a conversation with Kathy, the latter question was nowhere close to what she meant.
How can she be blamed for wanting to know if he is going to up and disappear without notice? Why did he become so defensive at that question when he texts her constantly and wants to spend time with her practically every weekend? Why is this a surprise to him after six months?
Then came the blatant idiocy on his part (though normally he appears to be an intelligent person.) He texted another girl in our friend group. How poorly chosen. How poorly timed. How fishy.
The worst feeling in the world is telling someone you love, something that will hurt them.
This is a point of contingency between my mother and I. My mother always tells me I shouldn't be the bearer of bad news, that telling someone what you know will hurt them and causes you to become part of unnecessary drama. In fact, I feel guilty thinking about what my mother would say to Beatrice and I telling our best friend Kathy that her boyfriend is acting suspiciously.
"But you don't KNOW what Eustice was thinking when he texted your friend!" she would say.
I trust intuition above anything else. All the times where I have been most hurt and ended up crying on the floor, or on the bus, or in the car, or during a swim set, it was because I didn't trust my intuition, and trusted a man instead. Call me a man hater (I'm not, really) - but the feeling of betraying myself is that of the utmost stupidity... and I didn't want Kathy to feel that way.
How terrible would I feel if my friends knew for the longest time that my love interest was being sketchy and texting my friends behind my back? And they never told me??? I'd be petrified with humiliation. Thus, the decision was made and Beatrice and myself told Kathy about the wandering eye.
As I always do, I have come up with a theory about Eustice.
I think that he feels social pressure to be "single" (although he's kind of been seriously dating someone for six months, uh FAIL on the being single, Eustice.) Men in college are like sheep falling off a stupidity cliff. How else can keg stands be explained? Or streaking? Or drinking until they puke? Their caveman instincts are in full force until they graduate college and realize that those four or five or six years were meaningless without the people they loved the whole time. I know I'm being slightly unfair here, but you watch your best friend cry for an hour and then try to be fair towards the opposite gender.
I think he's waiting around for Carmen Electra to be reincarnated into someone college-age who would realistically date him. Which is unrealistic and shallow. Can she hold a conversation? NO.
I think he loves Kathy. But loving someone doesn't mean you're in love (as an ex boyfriend once said, oh so poetically) and it doesn't make you become wiser immediately. In fact, I think loving someone makes you act ten times more irrationally than you would act for a friend. That would explain Kathy putting up with six months of wishy-washy answers. And I will defend her to the end, it's sure as hell not her fault.
So what are we supposed to do about the male gender until they snap out of it?
Just put up with it?
Get our hearts broken habitually?
Become nuns?
Act as badly as they do?
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Silence Breeding Discontent
I have a roommate. Her name is Prudence. You wouldn't know it from looking at my apartment, especially when her door is closed. Pretty much everything in the living room belongs to me, and the kitchen only has a few, very unhealthy food items belonging to my roommate and her boyfriend. When her door is open, all you see is an unmade bed, which looks exactly as it did three days ago... because she hasn't been home in three days.
What one would gather from this evidence is that my roommate barely makes her presence in our apartment. True, to an extent. The "extent" is her excessive amount of time spent with her boyfriend, only in her room. Part of me wonders if I ever gave off a vibe of unfriendliness at move-in. Or that everything I say is just insanely boring to her. If my single life is so far removed from her co-dependent relationship with her boyfriend that she cannot relate to me anymore.
The truth is, I have no idea what is wrong with our relationship.
The angry side of my psyche says she is obsessed with her boyfriend, he is obsessed with her, and they cannot divert into two separate lives anymore. Angry me also believes this means my roommate's and my friendship is dead. Cold. Done. Dead. No pulse. We barely talk anymore, besides "Hey" and the occasional update of week's events. I got a job Tuesday of last week and she didn't find out until... Friday. Because she wasn't home.
In my quest to be a reasonable, rationally-minded person, I have set up a list of what is her fault and what is my fault. And what's no one's fault.
Her fault: being gone constantly, or having her boyfriend over constantly - going into her room with her boyfriend and shutting the door, regardless of what they're doing, is an obvious "don't come in, don't talk to us" message. She is also putting me in a humiliating situation by never being without her boyfriend - if I want to hang out with her, I'll either have to agree to do what her boyfriend recommends we do, or ask her boyfriend to leave. Which would then make my roommate super angry with me.
My fault: not saying anything sooner. We are way past, "heyyyy why don't we just hang out this weekend?" I didn't know what to say then, and now I really don't know what to say. I should have nipped the constant boyfriend attachment thing in the bud while it was still harmless to me and I didn't have such a mental block.
No one's fault: That she might be the type of girl who always needs a boyfriend. I have another friend who seems to be that way; she truly handles it well and I still have confidence in her as my friend. My roommate may not know how to detach, or may not be capable of it. Also, her boyfriend's expectations are not my problem. If he wants her to cook for him for every meal, I suppose she will and I don't have a place saying anything (even though I think it's horribly medieval and makes her look like his slave/servant/bitch rather than
his life partner.)
Since high school, I have not lost many close female friends. One lives in Chicago, and we have a great relationship though she's so far away and on a totally different school schedule. Another goes to a rival school in Texas, but we communicate quite a bit and have never made the other feel ignored or humiliated. I lost one close female friend, but I owe that to her thinking (and outwardly saying) that her high school group of friends was not intelligent enough for her... I'll let that remain in an "agree to disagree" state, while I chew on my own desperately stupid thoughts.
I haven't felt so hurt in a long time. Mainly, because I thought growing up meant becoming one's own person and growing and finding one's path... but that was my upbringing and my definition of growing up. I suppose Prudence was brought up (and stereotypically, awfully, I hate saying this) in a traditional Hispanic household where being married, securing one's future, and raising a family are the zeniths of a woman's life. What if she feels she's achieving her greatest goal right now? What the hell do I say?
"I'm glad you and Randolph are so happy together, don't spend the night apart, and seem to be attached at the hip. BUT I THINK IT'S GOD AWFUL AT AGE 20.WHAT IF HE LEAVES YOU!?!"
Here I am, that person who will choose the silent treatment over honesty in cases where it's going to become word vomit and get altogether overly honest. Silently, I'm hoping she has doubts too. Silence is just making this gap between us bigger and bigger and bigger. Silence made her tell me a few weeks ago that she "prefer(s) that our (her and her boyfriend's) fruit be kept separate from yours." Who lives with ONE other person and won't share fruit? COME ON. (Consequently I've been eating bananas at every meal because she won't eat my nasty single-person bananas and they'll go bad otherwise.) Silence is reminding me that we haven't felt truly connected since her relationship became so serious with Randolph.
Silence reminds me that on most days, I have nothing good to say.
"If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all."
What one would gather from this evidence is that my roommate barely makes her presence in our apartment. True, to an extent. The "extent" is her excessive amount of time spent with her boyfriend, only in her room. Part of me wonders if I ever gave off a vibe of unfriendliness at move-in. Or that everything I say is just insanely boring to her. If my single life is so far removed from her co-dependent relationship with her boyfriend that she cannot relate to me anymore.
The truth is, I have no idea what is wrong with our relationship.
The angry side of my psyche says she is obsessed with her boyfriend, he is obsessed with her, and they cannot divert into two separate lives anymore. Angry me also believes this means my roommate's and my friendship is dead. Cold. Done. Dead. No pulse. We barely talk anymore, besides "Hey" and the occasional update of week's events. I got a job Tuesday of last week and she didn't find out until... Friday. Because she wasn't home.
In my quest to be a reasonable, rationally-minded person, I have set up a list of what is her fault and what is my fault. And what's no one's fault.
Her fault: being gone constantly, or having her boyfriend over constantly - going into her room with her boyfriend and shutting the door, regardless of what they're doing, is an obvious "don't come in, don't talk to us" message. She is also putting me in a humiliating situation by never being without her boyfriend - if I want to hang out with her, I'll either have to agree to do what her boyfriend recommends we do, or ask her boyfriend to leave. Which would then make my roommate super angry with me.
My fault: not saying anything sooner. We are way past, "heyyyy why don't we just hang out this weekend?" I didn't know what to say then, and now I really don't know what to say. I should have nipped the constant boyfriend attachment thing in the bud while it was still harmless to me and I didn't have such a mental block.
No one's fault: That she might be the type of girl who always needs a boyfriend. I have another friend who seems to be that way; she truly handles it well and I still have confidence in her as my friend. My roommate may not know how to detach, or may not be capable of it. Also, her boyfriend's expectations are not my problem. If he wants her to cook for him for every meal, I suppose she will and I don't have a place saying anything (even though I think it's horribly medieval and makes her look like his slave/servant/bitch rather than
his life partner.)
Since high school, I have not lost many close female friends. One lives in Chicago, and we have a great relationship though she's so far away and on a totally different school schedule. Another goes to a rival school in Texas, but we communicate quite a bit and have never made the other feel ignored or humiliated. I lost one close female friend, but I owe that to her thinking (and outwardly saying) that her high school group of friends was not intelligent enough for her... I'll let that remain in an "agree to disagree" state, while I chew on my own desperately stupid thoughts.
I haven't felt so hurt in a long time. Mainly, because I thought growing up meant becoming one's own person and growing and finding one's path... but that was my upbringing and my definition of growing up. I suppose Prudence was brought up (and stereotypically, awfully, I hate saying this) in a traditional Hispanic household where being married, securing one's future, and raising a family are the zeniths of a woman's life. What if she feels she's achieving her greatest goal right now? What the hell do I say?
"I'm glad you and Randolph are so happy together, don't spend the night apart, and seem to be attached at the hip. BUT I THINK IT'S GOD AWFUL AT AGE 20.WHAT IF HE LEAVES YOU!?!"
Here I am, that person who will choose the silent treatment over honesty in cases where it's going to become word vomit and get altogether overly honest. Silently, I'm hoping she has doubts too. Silence is just making this gap between us bigger and bigger and bigger. Silence made her tell me a few weeks ago that she "prefer(s) that our (her and her boyfriend's) fruit be kept separate from yours." Who lives with ONE other person and won't share fruit? COME ON. (Consequently I've been eating bananas at every meal because she won't eat my nasty single-person bananas and they'll go bad otherwise.) Silence is reminding me that we haven't felt truly connected since her relationship became so serious with Randolph.
Silence reminds me that on most days, I have nothing good to say.
"If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all."
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Even the Smartest Men Are Dumb
Breakthrough! (I think.)
After a threatening text, major miscommunication, a lot of waiting, and a lot of deep breaths, I think I finally have this figured out.
1. Jeb is busy. (my bad)
2. Jeb wants to stay "acquaintances" (after I told him I'd GTFO of his life if he wanted, HIS bad)
3. I am honest, he claims to be a champion of the truth, but I've realized he is not (HIS bad)
4. Initially, he just wanted a new girlfriend to get over his old girlfriend (HIS bad)
5. I told him I just like spending time with him and am not interested in a relationship as of yet, which is partially true (my bad)
6. I told him I don't want him to assume I'm trying to push him into boyfriend-land when I want to spend time with him. (good job, me)
I think that I do want a relationship. But I want a relationship with the right person at the right time. I have a feeling that this will stay casual enough to where we'll either realize that the whole shebang is a total failure, it actually works really well and we'll end up together, or I meet someone who isn't such a spazz when it comes to communication.
As pitiful as it seems to be thankful that he's finally being honest with me (shouldn't he have been honest the whole time?), I am. It doesn't hurt me that he was trying so hard to move on from his ex girlfriend by pursuing me. The best way I get over old boyfriends or guys who have disappointed me? UH, getting a new one. I wish he had realized earlier that I'm not one to be lied to or misled. I have a fantastic ability to distinguish the truth from sketchy from total bullshit. He has definitely lied to me, and I know that. I'm not stupid. But if had been honest with me from the beginning, (Yo, I really like you, but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship because I'm still not totally over my last girlfriend) this would all make sense.
Why do smart men avoid confrontation and honesty to the extent that they look like assholes?
I know that it is impossible for a guy to look like a teddy bear and be completely evil and rotten inside simultaneously. But I wouldn't have any doubt if he had been honest from the start. I have too much pride to lie. This sounds bizarre, but the shame and guilt I would feel from leading a guy on whom I didn't want to date would be worse for me than the self-esteem dip felt when I get rejected. At least I know, with every guy, that I have done the best I could. I was honest. I genuinely liked him. If he led me on, or he lied to me, he was the asshole. Not me. I guess I don't like being responsible for failure!
After a threatening text, major miscommunication, a lot of waiting, and a lot of deep breaths, I think I finally have this figured out.
1. Jeb is busy. (my bad)
2. Jeb wants to stay "acquaintances" (after I told him I'd GTFO of his life if he wanted, HIS bad)
3. I am honest, he claims to be a champion of the truth, but I've realized he is not (HIS bad)
4. Initially, he just wanted a new girlfriend to get over his old girlfriend (HIS bad)
5. I told him I just like spending time with him and am not interested in a relationship as of yet, which is partially true (my bad)
6. I told him I don't want him to assume I'm trying to push him into boyfriend-land when I want to spend time with him. (good job, me)
I think that I do want a relationship. But I want a relationship with the right person at the right time. I have a feeling that this will stay casual enough to where we'll either realize that the whole shebang is a total failure, it actually works really well and we'll end up together, or I meet someone who isn't such a spazz when it comes to communication.
As pitiful as it seems to be thankful that he's finally being honest with me (shouldn't he have been honest the whole time?), I am. It doesn't hurt me that he was trying so hard to move on from his ex girlfriend by pursuing me. The best way I get over old boyfriends or guys who have disappointed me? UH, getting a new one. I wish he had realized earlier that I'm not one to be lied to or misled. I have a fantastic ability to distinguish the truth from sketchy from total bullshit. He has definitely lied to me, and I know that. I'm not stupid. But if had been honest with me from the beginning, (Yo, I really like you, but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship because I'm still not totally over my last girlfriend) this would all make sense.
Why do smart men avoid confrontation and honesty to the extent that they look like assholes?
I know that it is impossible for a guy to look like a teddy bear and be completely evil and rotten inside simultaneously. But I wouldn't have any doubt if he had been honest from the start. I have too much pride to lie. This sounds bizarre, but the shame and guilt I would feel from leading a guy on whom I didn't want to date would be worse for me than the self-esteem dip felt when I get rejected. At least I know, with every guy, that I have done the best I could. I was honest. I genuinely liked him. If he led me on, or he lied to me, he was the asshole. Not me. I guess I don't like being responsible for failure!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
My Jaunt with Jebediah
Jebediah. Unnaturally smart. One of those guys who is cold as ice texting, but sweet in person. I shouldn't like him, I'll say that from the beginning. But I love his voice, and the way he giggles at the things I say whilst being particularly obnoxious. He's a big guy. Not fat, just... I would choose him for my dodgeball team. He is easygoing, and let me choose what I wanted to do for our first couple dates (at least I think they were dates?). He's patient with me when I go off on my tangents about art, music, human nature, etc and didn't kiss me until the third night we saw each other even though I know he is by no means a prude.
All is great in paradise, no?
Well of course, after 3 seemingly awesome dates and an awesome kiss, he didn't text me until two weeks later. And told his friends I had a huge crush on him. And took his ex(who is one of my friends) to some cocktail shindig for his fraternity. I didn't text him out of anger/humiliation/confusion.
Strike.
Strike.
You're out?
Thursday night (so, a week ago) he texted me, "Heyyy what are you up to?" Like I was supposed to drop everything (in that case, nothing, with a side of Facebook stalking) and just go hang out with him? Pretend he hadn't talked about "us" to other people - a personal pet peeve of mine? Chosen someone from his past over someone of his present and possibly future? I was furious, considered never talking to him again, but relented and texted him back a very curt reply that I was about to fall asleep and he should too.
The smarter version of myself would have deleted his number.
Saturday night rolled around, I had baked a ton of cookies I was seriously proud of ("they are like biting into a cloud" - my friend's testimony), I had downed some beers during a drinking game with my guy friends, and was watching an adorable flirtship play out between two of my friends. Thus, the powers of desperation combined and I texted him to hang out. At around 10:30pm, well past the innocence interval where you can't expect a hookup. He responded immediately (guilt? lust? missing me?) and met me by my apartment.
We talked for about an hour - about school, Spanish, relationships, the concert he had gone to. May I mention we would've known these things if he hadn't been an imbecile and texted me sooner? I was still pretty tipsy at this point, and when I'm tipsy, I'm sassy. I had previously deemed him a jerk, and found every opportunity where he seemed remotely pretentious to make fun of him, to which he giggled and made me fall for him all over again. In person, he was still sweet, and even though there were for sure some questionable intentions on my part, he took about 80 years to grab my hand. Then another 80 to kiss me, finally. (It always cracks me up when a guy pretty much gives my hand a hand job because he's afraid to give anything else a hand job.)
For various reasons, Jebediah didn't seal the deal that night. Not my fault. I'll just say that. As we were getting dressed and heading towards the door, he told me he'd be busy the next couple days.
"So, does that mean you won't text me for another week?"-still sassy.
"I promise I'm not an asshole."
So, should I believe him? It is now Thursday, and he still hasn't texted me or called me. However, I have realized he should be terrified of me. I don't know what made me wake up with so much confidence, but I did. I am smart, but also clever. I can keep up with his friends, and his friends like me. I would never hurt him, and that's something I feel is pretty obvious upon first meeting me. Even if he truly hurts me. I am positive, I like to try new things and travel. I'm pretty, and he knows it. I make decisions on my own and will never be wishy-washy.
Truly, this guy doesn't deserve me. I know this, yet I still am waiting for him. I'm still contemplating texting him. I've forgiven him for his missteps. Part of me doesn't even want to.
Where is the line between hope and insanity?
All is great in paradise, no?
Well of course, after 3 seemingly awesome dates and an awesome kiss, he didn't text me until two weeks later. And told his friends I had a huge crush on him. And took his ex(who is one of my friends) to some cocktail shindig for his fraternity. I didn't text him out of anger/humiliation/confusion.
Strike.
Strike.
You're out?
Thursday night (so, a week ago) he texted me, "Heyyy what are you up to?" Like I was supposed to drop everything (in that case, nothing, with a side of Facebook stalking) and just go hang out with him? Pretend he hadn't talked about "us" to other people - a personal pet peeve of mine? Chosen someone from his past over someone of his present and possibly future? I was furious, considered never talking to him again, but relented and texted him back a very curt reply that I was about to fall asleep and he should too.
The smarter version of myself would have deleted his number.
Saturday night rolled around, I had baked a ton of cookies I was seriously proud of ("they are like biting into a cloud" - my friend's testimony), I had downed some beers during a drinking game with my guy friends, and was watching an adorable flirtship play out between two of my friends. Thus, the powers of desperation combined and I texted him to hang out. At around 10:30pm, well past the innocence interval where you can't expect a hookup. He responded immediately (guilt? lust? missing me?) and met me by my apartment.
We talked for about an hour - about school, Spanish, relationships, the concert he had gone to. May I mention we would've known these things if he hadn't been an imbecile and texted me sooner? I was still pretty tipsy at this point, and when I'm tipsy, I'm sassy. I had previously deemed him a jerk, and found every opportunity where he seemed remotely pretentious to make fun of him, to which he giggled and made me fall for him all over again. In person, he was still sweet, and even though there were for sure some questionable intentions on my part, he took about 80 years to grab my hand. Then another 80 to kiss me, finally. (It always cracks me up when a guy pretty much gives my hand a hand job because he's afraid to give anything else a hand job.)
For various reasons, Jebediah didn't seal the deal that night. Not my fault. I'll just say that. As we were getting dressed and heading towards the door, he told me he'd be busy the next couple days.
"So, does that mean you won't text me for another week?"-still sassy.
"I promise I'm not an asshole."
So, should I believe him? It is now Thursday, and he still hasn't texted me or called me. However, I have realized he should be terrified of me. I don't know what made me wake up with so much confidence, but I did. I am smart, but also clever. I can keep up with his friends, and his friends like me. I would never hurt him, and that's something I feel is pretty obvious upon first meeting me. Even if he truly hurts me. I am positive, I like to try new things and travel. I'm pretty, and he knows it. I make decisions on my own and will never be wishy-washy.
Truly, this guy doesn't deserve me. I know this, yet I still am waiting for him. I'm still contemplating texting him. I've forgiven him for his missteps. Part of me doesn't even want to.
Where is the line between hope and insanity?
So here I am, creating my first blog post. Hopefully I'll be a more faithful guardian of this than of my Tumblr, which generally consists of a post every two weeks and endless stalking of fascinatingly messed up people from my hometown. I think I'll aim for a post... twice a week? I'm trying to make clearly set, attainable goals here.
Sex and the City is one of my favorite TV shows, partly because it addresses dating and sexuality in a fresh way (still fresh, in comparison to the wildly out of hand teen shows or sickeningly wholesome Disney channel shows.) It addresses the conundrum of growing older and still trying to be relevant, how marriage is viewed by both genders, and the power of female friendship (or female competition in some cases.)
I know that there are flaws in the attitudes of the Sex and the City gals. In reality, Samantha would probably have a range of STDs. Carrie wouldn't live in such an amazing apartment. No one (hopefully) is so naive as Charlotte. And Miranda's job wouldn't truly allow her the summer off to go vacation in the Hamptons with her best friends.
I'm not necessarily going to write only about Sex and the City, nor my own life, nor just my friends. I aim for a balance of interesting stories, "what the fuck" moments, and perhaps some therapeutic insight (writing is how I learn best from my mistakes and try to prevent myself from making new ones... or the same ones.) I'm going to give everyone in my stories the most horrific names in order to protect their identities. You try and guess who Edna is. Or Martha. See? You picture an old woman in pearls, no 20 year old ladies or gents.
I call myself a cynic because cynicism is my overriding emotion before, during, and after every text, phone call, date, and relationship. Really, I have let myself go totally overboard with the cynicism thing. A professor once told me,
"Cynicism is setting yourself up for having no experiences at all. Skepticism is healthy and a key to being a discerning human being."
Call me an overzealous student. Or constantly disappointed. Just don't call me a bitch - my last intention is to hurt any guy, or for any of my friends to hurt anyone. Or for my truth to become a razorblade.
Anyways, enough with the introductory post. You'll be seeing analyses of my life and the characters in my life very soon. :)
Sex and the City is one of my favorite TV shows, partly because it addresses dating and sexuality in a fresh way (still fresh, in comparison to the wildly out of hand teen shows or sickeningly wholesome Disney channel shows.) It addresses the conundrum of growing older and still trying to be relevant, how marriage is viewed by both genders, and the power of female friendship (or female competition in some cases.)
I know that there are flaws in the attitudes of the Sex and the City gals. In reality, Samantha would probably have a range of STDs. Carrie wouldn't live in such an amazing apartment. No one (hopefully) is so naive as Charlotte. And Miranda's job wouldn't truly allow her the summer off to go vacation in the Hamptons with her best friends.
I'm not necessarily going to write only about Sex and the City, nor my own life, nor just my friends. I aim for a balance of interesting stories, "what the fuck" moments, and perhaps some therapeutic insight (writing is how I learn best from my mistakes and try to prevent myself from making new ones... or the same ones.) I'm going to give everyone in my stories the most horrific names in order to protect their identities. You try and guess who Edna is. Or Martha. See? You picture an old woman in pearls, no 20 year old ladies or gents.
I call myself a cynic because cynicism is my overriding emotion before, during, and after every text, phone call, date, and relationship. Really, I have let myself go totally overboard with the cynicism thing. A professor once told me,
"Cynicism is setting yourself up for having no experiences at all. Skepticism is healthy and a key to being a discerning human being."
Call me an overzealous student. Or constantly disappointed. Just don't call me a bitch - my last intention is to hurt any guy, or for any of my friends to hurt anyone. Or for my truth to become a razorblade.
Anyways, enough with the introductory post. You'll be seeing analyses of my life and the characters in my life very soon. :)
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