Words that can make your heart skip a beat--good or bad.
On Thursday, I finally got to see Bffffffffff again. We got all fancied up and met at a nice restaurant in a neighboring city. It started off wonderfully--the food was excellent, and we both had delicious pear martinis. We caught each other up on our lives and it was great to spend time with him again. Next stop was a dueling piano bar. More drinks and some shots of Patron. (Cause we're classy motherfuckers.) Then onto another bar, where I realized how drunk I was. With the stress of all the medical stuff, I've lost weight, and my alcohol tolerance isn't what it used to be...and it used to be abnormally high. Being a Thursday, most of the bars were pretty dead. I remember Bfffffffff and I sitting there, and I have a vague recollection that things started to get a little too deep for me. Apparently there's something about me that makes me the "What If" girl; this isn't the first guy that's had that feeling. I was uncomfortable and, being drunk, didn't hide it well. We got a cab to go to another bar, and I didn't like the idea of going far away from my car. When we got to the next establishment, it was really dead. Bfffffffff asked the cab driver to take me back to my car, and then him back to his hotel. For some reason I had a really, almost panicky discomfort with that evening. I still can't remember exactly why. I think it had to do with vulnerability. It's rather apparent that I don't handle it well when I feel vulnerable, and that's been amplified lately. Probably because of my newly found extreme cynicism.
In my mind, the best option for me was to contact The Child. The Child (okay, in actuality he's only a couple years younger than me) is a character from quite a while ago. We had tried to date a couple of times and it just didn't work out very well. Eventually, for his benefit, I cut off all contact. A few weeks ago, during one of my crazy wake up in the middle of the night wide awake times, I found an old friend request from him on the Facebook and decided to accept it.
So, I contacted him and he told me he was just down the road and would come meet me. He wasn't as close as he said, but it was a sweet exaggeration. So he met me and we ended up going back to his apartment. Which was a disaster. Gross. But that's beside the point. He was nice enough to let me stay the night. And, though he tried a little bit, he didn't completely push it and nothing happened.
There was an oddity though. He kept saying, earnestly, that we should have a baby. He was completely serious; he wanted to get me pregnant. My drunk ass, especially with the concerns with medication, half considered it. Good thing it was only a half consideration. Finally I told him he'd have to marry me, and then we could talk about him getting me pregnant. Look at me being all sensible and shit!
He's coming in to see me tonight. I feel obligated to tell him about the upcoming road trip, and I'm kind of dreading it. I know he's not going to like it, but I wouldn't either. Too bad, it's all planned and booked and I'm in. So he can either trust me and get over it, or get mad and fade into the background again. I'm find either way. Because I guess on top of being a cynic, I've become unfeeling. Good thing I'd have to have feelings to be bothered by that!
And now it's gotten trickier, because it seems I enjoy my life to be complicated. Wolverine, Jonathan Trager, and Dylan are all trying to get back in the picture. Wait, I can't entirely say that. Wolverine just wants to sleep with me, and Jonathan has only been supportive with the health stuff. I think he does still have feelings for me, and maybe always will, but he'll never put in the effort it really takes. Poor Jonathan keeps thinking things will work, and I absolutely know they won't. Some people just like to live in a fantasy world. So I've heard the phrase "I really want to see you" or some variation, about 4 times in the past few days. Unfortunately, it hasn't been giving me warm fuzzies.
But am I capable of getting warm fuzzies anymore? Your guess is as good as mine.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Friday, May 23, 2014
Life Changers and Adventuring
I'm not a terrible person, I'm just very...particular.
Life never ceases to amaze, and kind of confuse me. I remember working in group homes back in college, a time when we had to make a push with the state and federal government not to make funding cuts in our area. One of my coworkers had talked about different social programs and how they differed...she said that there was no way to prevent needing our services; anybody could end up being in an accident one day and need the help of a group home. That (obviously) stuck with me; she was right.
Okay, of course I'm not bad enough to need a group home. But I kind of understand it now. Like, can I try my body for treason or something like that? Punishable by medication to get your ass in line.
Today I got my official diagnosis: undifferentiated connective tissue disease. Which is a fancy way of saying I have some kind of autoimmune disorder but they can't figure out exactly what. My biggest concern had been that all the blood work would come back okay and they'd be like "Meh, you're good. Peace out, girl scout!" And I'd be like "Nooo, sad panda!" For the most part, the tests did come back okay. However, the white blood cell count in my knee-junk-fluid was off. He said the normal amount is 200, and it can be around 2000 if things are really bad. Uh, yeah, get on my level...which was 11000. Wait, so maybe don't get on my level, because that's shockingly high. Eleven-fucking-thousand. What even is that!? Dumb. It's dumb.
On the other hand, he did say this diagnosis-non-diagnosis is a good thing. Apparently it could be much, much worse. The med I'm on now is mild and should help quite a bit in a few months, so I just have to stick it out till then. Even though I'm basically a human chameleon at this point. Bring it. Even though it kind of makes me want to cry right now.
Hey, so, remember the last post with the kind of odd exchanges with Soldier? Well, hang on to your hats, folks! I really started thinking about the trip, and really started wanting to go. He let me know when he had the details figured out a little better, I checked it with my sister (who lives out in LA) and boss to take the time off, and started looking at flights back. Everything kind of fell in line, and I'm for sure going. I kind of like the idea of not really not needing to plan or figure anything out.
Granted, it could turn out to be a hella crazy trip. I'll be spending some of the time alone with Soldier (which I of course like the idea of), and then we'll be picking up two others, ending up with me and 3 Army guys. Like, there's a chance for it to be absolutely miserable. But, I figure I can just spend all the time in LA with my sister if it's ridiculous...although maybe that's the plan anyway, I really have no idea. And that's very okay! Of course I think it would be great to spend time with them (him) in one of my fave cities, but I'll just be happy to have a week there.
I definitely need this break, and the sun and relaxation. Anything else will just be a bonus.
Life never ceases to amaze, and kind of confuse me. I remember working in group homes back in college, a time when we had to make a push with the state and federal government not to make funding cuts in our area. One of my coworkers had talked about different social programs and how they differed...she said that there was no way to prevent needing our services; anybody could end up being in an accident one day and need the help of a group home. That (obviously) stuck with me; she was right.
Okay, of course I'm not bad enough to need a group home. But I kind of understand it now. Like, can I try my body for treason or something like that? Punishable by medication to get your ass in line.
Today I got my official diagnosis: undifferentiated connective tissue disease. Which is a fancy way of saying I have some kind of autoimmune disorder but they can't figure out exactly what. My biggest concern had been that all the blood work would come back okay and they'd be like "Meh, you're good. Peace out, girl scout!" And I'd be like "Nooo, sad panda!" For the most part, the tests did come back okay. However, the white blood cell count in my knee-junk-fluid was off. He said the normal amount is 200, and it can be around 2000 if things are really bad. Uh, yeah, get on my level...which was 11000. Wait, so maybe don't get on my level, because that's shockingly high. Eleven-fucking-thousand. What even is that!? Dumb. It's dumb.
On the other hand, he did say this diagnosis-non-diagnosis is a good thing. Apparently it could be much, much worse. The med I'm on now is mild and should help quite a bit in a few months, so I just have to stick it out till then. Even though I'm basically a human chameleon at this point. Bring it. Even though it kind of makes me want to cry right now.
Hey, so, remember the last post with the kind of odd exchanges with Soldier? Well, hang on to your hats, folks! I really started thinking about the trip, and really started wanting to go. He let me know when he had the details figured out a little better, I checked it with my sister (who lives out in LA) and boss to take the time off, and started looking at flights back. Everything kind of fell in line, and I'm for sure going. I kind of like the idea of not really not needing to plan or figure anything out.
Granted, it could turn out to be a hella crazy trip. I'll be spending some of the time alone with Soldier (which I of course like the idea of), and then we'll be picking up two others, ending up with me and 3 Army guys. Like, there's a chance for it to be absolutely miserable. But, I figure I can just spend all the time in LA with my sister if it's ridiculous...although maybe that's the plan anyway, I really have no idea. And that's very okay! Of course I think it would be great to spend time with them (him) in one of my fave cities, but I'll just be happy to have a week there.
I definitely need this break, and the sun and relaxation. Anything else will just be a bonus.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
The Wedding Singer
Love stinks, yeah yeah.
This wedding season, I will be providing two happy couples with vocals. This evening we had rehearsal to pick out songs for one of said couples. The overwhelming theme? Damn it, I am so socially awkward! My worry is that it comes across as rude or uppity, when I'm really just not entirely sure how to read the situation.
The other theme? There was a baby. Screeeeeech! Back the truck up! let's take a little flashback on why that matters.
***My rheumatology appointment last week did not go as I wanted it to. The PA (I didn't actually see the doctor) was very confident I have an autoimmune disease. Apart from that being a devastating diagnosis, it was complete information overload. I'm still not sure I've processed it all. Anyway at one point he asked if I plan to have kids (and then he kindly told me he wouldn't be doing a pelvic exam...ummm...wtf...I hadn't even seen that as an option why would you do that stay away from my ladybits thanks very much) because that answer would make a difference in how they treated the problem. First instinct: more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, I want to be a mother. Second instinct: how can I determine that right now? I don't even have a significant other, let alone any actual plans to have children. Can I base my decision on a possible pipe dream? Do I get rid of the dream for a treatment that may be more effective? From there it kind of spirals to feeling
very alone and like there's more I should be doing with my life. So. baby.***
The baby was adorable and sweet and flirty. And the bride is absolutely beautiful, and they're a great family, but she's the kind of girl who looks to everyone else to make the decisions. Is that where I'm wrong? But, of course, in trying to make plans for future rehearsals (when I said that I'm pretty open because I don't have much of a life...which is completely fine with me thankyouverymuch) I was told how beautiful I am and how I must have various suitors beating down my door. Harumph.
So I promptly came home and cried trying to figure out these answers and trying to feel less alone.
Something strange happened last night. Slight backup again.
This weekend I had a bit of a meltdown and I sent Soldier a FB message. I needed to get all of that clamor out of my head; and he's the perfect mix of separation and closeness. We chatted a bit and he told me he was there if I needed anything. He worded it a bit harshly, but with his normal demeanor it didn't bother me. Then yesterday he said he'd read it again and reworded it that if I needed anything he'd be there. After a couple of exchanges, he told me that he sometimes puts his foot in his mouth *especially when he's talking to pretty girls*
Screeeeeeeech
What? I tried to play coy and say he was in danger of flirting, and he responded just as coyly. Then he went on to say that it wasn't a secret anyway that I'm incredibly good looking and there's no way around it. We went back and forth till finally he invited me on a cross country road trip. Unfortunately, by that time, I'd taken extra pain killers for my legs and was sleeping. When I did see it, I emphatically agreed. (Although, half the time I just say that shit).
Today I decided to give him a while to wake up. I was almost certain he'd been drunk the night before. This afternoon I thought about it and decided to take the joking route: I asked him if he was regretting the drunken antics. He said he wasn't. He hadn't expected me to agree to the roadtrip, but he didn't retract the invitation.
I don't really know what to think. I obviously still miss him. I'm also trying not to overanalyze, but he admitted he was flirting. WHAAAA?
I dunno, kids. Everything is all topsy-turvy. What I can tell you is that I'd be the happiest little girl in the world to have a nice gentleman to rest my head upon. I'm not pushing it, though. I'll just keep playing as cool as my socially awkward non-rudeness can handle.
This wedding season, I will be providing two happy couples with vocals. This evening we had rehearsal to pick out songs for one of said couples. The overwhelming theme? Damn it, I am so socially awkward! My worry is that it comes across as rude or uppity, when I'm really just not entirely sure how to read the situation.
The other theme? There was a baby. Screeeeeech! Back the truck up! let's take a little flashback on why that matters.
***My rheumatology appointment last week did not go as I wanted it to. The PA (I didn't actually see the doctor) was very confident I have an autoimmune disease. Apart from that being a devastating diagnosis, it was complete information overload. I'm still not sure I've processed it all. Anyway at one point he asked if I plan to have kids (and then he kindly told me he wouldn't be doing a pelvic exam...ummm...wtf...I hadn't even seen that as an option why would you do that stay away from my ladybits thanks very much) because that answer would make a difference in how they treated the problem. First instinct: more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, I want to be a mother. Second instinct: how can I determine that right now? I don't even have a significant other, let alone any actual plans to have children. Can I base my decision on a possible pipe dream? Do I get rid of the dream for a treatment that may be more effective? From there it kind of spirals to feeling
very alone and like there's more I should be doing with my life. So. baby.***
The baby was adorable and sweet and flirty. And the bride is absolutely beautiful, and they're a great family, but she's the kind of girl who looks to everyone else to make the decisions. Is that where I'm wrong? But, of course, in trying to make plans for future rehearsals (when I said that I'm pretty open because I don't have much of a life...which is completely fine with me thankyouverymuch) I was told how beautiful I am and how I must have various suitors beating down my door. Harumph.
So I promptly came home and cried trying to figure out these answers and trying to feel less alone.
Something strange happened last night. Slight backup again.
This weekend I had a bit of a meltdown and I sent Soldier a FB message. I needed to get all of that clamor out of my head; and he's the perfect mix of separation and closeness. We chatted a bit and he told me he was there if I needed anything. He worded it a bit harshly, but with his normal demeanor it didn't bother me. Then yesterday he said he'd read it again and reworded it that if I needed anything he'd be there. After a couple of exchanges, he told me that he sometimes puts his foot in his mouth *especially when he's talking to pretty girls*
Screeeeeeeech
What? I tried to play coy and say he was in danger of flirting, and he responded just as coyly. Then he went on to say that it wasn't a secret anyway that I'm incredibly good looking and there's no way around it. We went back and forth till finally he invited me on a cross country road trip. Unfortunately, by that time, I'd taken extra pain killers for my legs and was sleeping. When I did see it, I emphatically agreed. (Although, half the time I just say that shit).
Today I decided to give him a while to wake up. I was almost certain he'd been drunk the night before. This afternoon I thought about it and decided to take the joking route: I asked him if he was regretting the drunken antics. He said he wasn't. He hadn't expected me to agree to the roadtrip, but he didn't retract the invitation.
I don't really know what to think. I obviously still miss him. I'm also trying not to overanalyze, but he admitted he was flirting. WHAAAA?
I dunno, kids. Everything is all topsy-turvy. What I can tell you is that I'd be the happiest little girl in the world to have a nice gentleman to rest my head upon. I'm not pushing it, though. I'll just keep playing as cool as my socially awkward non-rudeness can handle.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Disney Princess
The women at the center of horrific fairy tales that became every girl's wildest dreams.
Today (at least in the US), we celebrate our mothers, grandmothers, and important women in our life. They get presents, emotional posts on Facebook, and pampering. Yesterday I my mom and I met one of my sisters for some shopping. It was a nice, mutually beneficial way to celebrate her. Okay, I can hear you now "Uh, Laura. Title said Disney Princess. Where is this going?" Well, no, I did not meet my "One True Love" at the mall. (And I hope any one of you lovely people would hit me over the head if I said I did). But guess what? I'll tell you how it relates! With the customary Richard Cranium twist, of course. YAY!
My parents met on an Air Force base here in the States. My grandpa (Mom's Dad) outranked my dad, so my dad was trying to suck up and apparently made an impression. After talking for a bit, my grandpa asked my dad if he had a date for some dance or social event that was coming up. When Dad said no, Grandpa offered up my mom. (She didn't appreciate it much at the time). They went to this dance or whatever and my dad brought a friend to try and make it less awkward (I don't think it worked). He kept asking her out and she kept turning him down, until she finally relented. After that, things got brighter. Two weeks after they started dating (or whatever), my dad was dropping my mom off at home and said "we should get married sometime." And she said "Okay. I have to go inside now." Three months later, they were married. It took them a few years before they were able to have kids. Once that did happen, though, my oldest sister came, then twins, followed by two boys, and me. Fairy tale life? Eh, maybe, maybe not. My dad was off working hard so my mom could stay home raising the family. They did get to live all over the world, and she's glad she was able to raise us. I'm glad for that too. Throughout the years, Mum's become one of my best friends. Even when she pisses me off and I can't stand her (and vice versa), she continues to be one of my favorites. If you've gathered by now, that's saying a lot, because I really don't like people a whole lot.
So there's the backstory.
Back (Forward?) to Mother's Day. And the tie-in! When we got back from Mass today, my mom told me she'd gotten a compliment for me from a lady at church. (Does that make sense? It sounds a little Matrix or Inception-y.) The lady told her that I remind her of a Disney Princess and that I should send my pictures to them (cuz that's how it works, apparently) so I can be the next one. It was cute, we laughed, the end. Today was absolutely GORGEOUS out, Mum was working in the garden, and I decided to help out for a bit. We got to talking and she asked me which Disney Princess I would want to be. I answered, "Hmm. Do you go with the Princesses who find true love and have their dreams come true, or the ones who are independent and don't need a man?" I asked what hers was and the answer was epic. Are you ready? Are you sitting down for this? Like, I really didn't know Disney Princesses could be so deep and complex, so I hope you're prepared for this.
My Mum said she'd be Belle. Belle was considered weird because she was smart and she liked to read. She didn't judge the book by the cover (uh, guys, the Beast, not an actual book...keep up). She knew what she wanted and what she didn't. She wasn't willing to compromise on what she thought was right and just. She was nice to the people who deserved it, but didn't waste her time on d-bags. And with all that, she got the prince in the end.
WHOA. Belle is underrated. I hadn't thought of all that, but my mom picked up on it. It really surprised me, but I really liked the answer. I also think it says a lot about my mom. And that, ladies and gents, is why my mom is a rock star.
Today (at least in the US), we celebrate our mothers, grandmothers, and important women in our life. They get presents, emotional posts on Facebook, and pampering. Yesterday I my mom and I met one of my sisters for some shopping. It was a nice, mutually beneficial way to celebrate her. Okay, I can hear you now "Uh, Laura. Title said Disney Princess. Where is this going?" Well, no, I did not meet my "One True Love" at the mall. (And I hope any one of you lovely people would hit me over the head if I said I did). But guess what? I'll tell you how it relates! With the customary Richard Cranium twist, of course. YAY!
My parents met on an Air Force base here in the States. My grandpa (Mom's Dad) outranked my dad, so my dad was trying to suck up and apparently made an impression. After talking for a bit, my grandpa asked my dad if he had a date for some dance or social event that was coming up. When Dad said no, Grandpa offered up my mom. (She didn't appreciate it much at the time). They went to this dance or whatever and my dad brought a friend to try and make it less awkward (I don't think it worked). He kept asking her out and she kept turning him down, until she finally relented. After that, things got brighter. Two weeks after they started dating (or whatever), my dad was dropping my mom off at home and said "we should get married sometime." And she said "Okay. I have to go inside now." Three months later, they were married. It took them a few years before they were able to have kids. Once that did happen, though, my oldest sister came, then twins, followed by two boys, and me. Fairy tale life? Eh, maybe, maybe not. My dad was off working hard so my mom could stay home raising the family. They did get to live all over the world, and she's glad she was able to raise us. I'm glad for that too. Throughout the years, Mum's become one of my best friends. Even when she pisses me off and I can't stand her (and vice versa), she continues to be one of my favorites. If you've gathered by now, that's saying a lot, because I really don't like people a whole lot.
So there's the backstory.
Back (Forward?) to Mother's Day. And the tie-in! When we got back from Mass today, my mom told me she'd gotten a compliment for me from a lady at church. (Does that make sense? It sounds a little Matrix or Inception-y.) The lady told her that I remind her of a Disney Princess and that I should send my pictures to them (cuz that's how it works, apparently) so I can be the next one. It was cute, we laughed, the end. Today was absolutely GORGEOUS out, Mum was working in the garden, and I decided to help out for a bit. We got to talking and she asked me which Disney Princess I would want to be. I answered, "Hmm. Do you go with the Princesses who find true love and have their dreams come true, or the ones who are independent and don't need a man?" I asked what hers was and the answer was epic. Are you ready? Are you sitting down for this? Like, I really didn't know Disney Princesses could be so deep and complex, so I hope you're prepared for this.
My Mum said she'd be Belle. Belle was considered weird because she was smart and she liked to read. She didn't judge the book by the cover (uh, guys, the Beast, not an actual book...keep up). She knew what she wanted and what she didn't. She wasn't willing to compromise on what she thought was right and just. She was nice to the people who deserved it, but didn't waste her time on d-bags. And with all that, she got the prince in the end.
WHOA. Belle is underrated. I hadn't thought of all that, but my mom picked up on it. It really surprised me, but I really liked the answer. I also think it says a lot about my mom. And that, ladies and gents, is why my mom is a rock star.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Dobler-Dahmer Revisited
When does the charm turn to crazy?
Remember the guy from high school who's enamored with me? Let's call him Van Gogh. Most of the time when I got messages from him, I don't write much back. I mean, what do you say to stuff like that--things about my "aura" and how amazing and sweet and good I am, how my existence makes his life better, etc, etc. Weird, and a little too Hollywood-fairy tale-love story for me.
Last weekend I sang at a Mass for First Communion. I hadn't heard from Van Gogh for a while, so I thought it was okay to shoot him a text saying there had been someone at Mass that looked like him. Hahaha. Silly me. He started by saying that he wished it had been him so he could be near me and see me, but that he's really glad something reminds me of him every once in a while. It's kind of a blur of lunacy after that for a while. It was more of the same back and forth: him laying ridiculous admiration on me and wanting me to give him a chance, me trying to logically say that there's no way he can have the opinion of me that he does.
Nobody could understand why I didn't just tell him he's a creep and to go screw himself. I dunno. It's probably the Catholic guilt. I do think he means well, and that he's harmless, but I think he's slightly delusional.
Eventually I said something about real life--how we'd never had a conversation that would lead to people actually getting to know each other: "how was your day?" "what do you do at your job?" "what makes you happy or pisses you off?"
He replied with things he's seen on the Facebook about my work and life, but still turned it super emotional. Trying to be a nice person and have patience, I told him to maybe try some mundane conversations. Because, you know, finding out about people's everyday lives are how you get to know them. Which is probably a good thing before you want to get all deep and ask about their hopes and dreams and ambitions. Ugh. So, anyway, he said he'd definitely do that.
The next day was dreary, so Van Gogh texted me about taking his dogs for a walk and feeling the wind and drizzle on his face and thinking about me. Except take that and translate it into Jane Austen or Charles Dickens or something like that...I can't do it justice. Then, kind of as an afterthought, he asked how my day was and noted that he's not very good at mundane, normal conversation. It then went on to something about how he can only do so much to be mundane, because he still has to be himself. But, he of course brought it back to me and how I make him feel. And that was it for general conversation.
That was enough. As much as I've tried to tell him that all the flattery and wooing is overwhelming and unappreciated, it makes no difference. I don't remember what I said, but I made pretty clear that I was sick of going in circles.
Later on, he asked me to give his heart back, because I'd stolen it. Cue my eye-rolling. Part of me wanted to tell him that I hadn't stolen anything, he'd tossed his feelings into some creep-o fantasy in his imagination. Reining it in, I just said he was being melodramatic; that life isn't a Jane Austen novel and I wouldn't want it to be. I told him I don't believe in soul mates or love at first sight; he told me I'm cynical. I relented to that one. He said a bunch of crap about my grace, what a beautiful creature I am, calling me "milady," etc. etc.
In a move of pure maturity, Van Gogh took a poll on the Facebook to see if people believe in love at first sight. Most didn't...what a surpriiiise! In the last conversation (I don't plan to have more), he acknowledged that most people agree with me, but that he still holds his position. I held fast to mine. Then I got a small novel about his feelings and when he saw me 2ish years ago. It was at a bar, he said the band played a great show (SO FALSE), that I caught him staring at me (nope.), and that I inexplicably gave him a hug when I was leaving.
Well, I know why. It was because I'd been drinking, and there were a couple of other people from high school. It was that awkward "I don't know what to do now because you obviously find me attractive but there's no way anything is going to happen" scene, and I didn't know what to do...so it was hugs all around.
Anyway, after trying not to rip my hair out, I told him that I didn't understand his feelings, but it didn't matter. That if you want someone to give you a chance, you have to do it on their terms. You can't force your weirdo-creepy-stalker feelings on them and expect them to like it. Alright I didn't say that last part. He told me he'd do anything on my terms. I didn't reply.
I'd say there's no doubt this one can be filed under Dahmer.
Remember the guy from high school who's enamored with me? Let's call him Van Gogh. Most of the time when I got messages from him, I don't write much back. I mean, what do you say to stuff like that--things about my "aura" and how amazing and sweet and good I am, how my existence makes his life better, etc, etc. Weird, and a little too Hollywood-fairy tale-love story for me.
Last weekend I sang at a Mass for First Communion. I hadn't heard from Van Gogh for a while, so I thought it was okay to shoot him a text saying there had been someone at Mass that looked like him. Hahaha. Silly me. He started by saying that he wished it had been him so he could be near me and see me, but that he's really glad something reminds me of him every once in a while. It's kind of a blur of lunacy after that for a while. It was more of the same back and forth: him laying ridiculous admiration on me and wanting me to give him a chance, me trying to logically say that there's no way he can have the opinion of me that he does.
Nobody could understand why I didn't just tell him he's a creep and to go screw himself. I dunno. It's probably the Catholic guilt. I do think he means well, and that he's harmless, but I think he's slightly delusional.
Eventually I said something about real life--how we'd never had a conversation that would lead to people actually getting to know each other: "how was your day?" "what do you do at your job?" "what makes you happy or pisses you off?"
He replied with things he's seen on the Facebook about my work and life, but still turned it super emotional. Trying to be a nice person and have patience, I told him to maybe try some mundane conversations. Because, you know, finding out about people's everyday lives are how you get to know them. Which is probably a good thing before you want to get all deep and ask about their hopes and dreams and ambitions. Ugh. So, anyway, he said he'd definitely do that.
The next day was dreary, so Van Gogh texted me about taking his dogs for a walk and feeling the wind and drizzle on his face and thinking about me. Except take that and translate it into Jane Austen or Charles Dickens or something like that...I can't do it justice. Then, kind of as an afterthought, he asked how my day was and noted that he's not very good at mundane, normal conversation. It then went on to something about how he can only do so much to be mundane, because he still has to be himself. But, he of course brought it back to me and how I make him feel. And that was it for general conversation.
That was enough. As much as I've tried to tell him that all the flattery and wooing is overwhelming and unappreciated, it makes no difference. I don't remember what I said, but I made pretty clear that I was sick of going in circles.
Later on, he asked me to give his heart back, because I'd stolen it. Cue my eye-rolling. Part of me wanted to tell him that I hadn't stolen anything, he'd tossed his feelings into some creep-o fantasy in his imagination. Reining it in, I just said he was being melodramatic; that life isn't a Jane Austen novel and I wouldn't want it to be. I told him I don't believe in soul mates or love at first sight; he told me I'm cynical. I relented to that one. He said a bunch of crap about my grace, what a beautiful creature I am, calling me "milady," etc. etc.
In a move of pure maturity, Van Gogh took a poll on the Facebook to see if people believe in love at first sight. Most didn't...what a surpriiiise! In the last conversation (I don't plan to have more), he acknowledged that most people agree with me, but that he still holds his position. I held fast to mine. Then I got a small novel about his feelings and when he saw me 2ish years ago. It was at a bar, he said the band played a great show (SO FALSE), that I caught him staring at me (nope.), and that I inexplicably gave him a hug when I was leaving.
Well, I know why. It was because I'd been drinking, and there were a couple of other people from high school. It was that awkward "I don't know what to do now because you obviously find me attractive but there's no way anything is going to happen" scene, and I didn't know what to do...so it was hugs all around.
Anyway, after trying not to rip my hair out, I told him that I didn't understand his feelings, but it didn't matter. That if you want someone to give you a chance, you have to do it on their terms. You can't force your weirdo-creepy-stalker feelings on them and expect them to like it. Alright I didn't say that last part. He told me he'd do anything on my terms. I didn't reply.
I'd say there's no doubt this one can be filed under Dahmer.
Monday, April 28, 2014
The Universe's Whipping Boy
It stings.
Well, things have turned badly again.
A couple of weeks ago, I was out with Hermes. I was tired and not feeling great, so I'm sure I wasn't super nice. That's beside the point, though. After doing some shopping, we decided to go out to eat. As I was going to get out of the car, the car next to us was leaving, so I tried to stay out of the way and shut the door really close behind me. So close, in fact, that I shut my finger inside it. HOLY JESUS IT HURT. I really don't know how kids can handle that shit. PAIN. All up my arm, all the way to my friggin heart. Like, I was a little concerned because it hurt so bad even in my chest. Also, since Hermes drove, I had to get him to open the car back up. He was starting to walk inside by then, and apparently I was too calm and didn't convey the urgency of the situation well. I said I stayed there with my finger stuck for 30 seconds, Hermes says it was more like 15. Whatever, I'm pretty sure it was an eternity.
Hermes kept apologizing like it was his fault. It was very nice of him, and I really appreciated his concern. But it really was my own damn fault.
People kept telling me I need to start living in a bubble. Maybe I do.
That same weekend, well, actually the day before, my Mum and I did some shopping of our own. I was doing a little makeup splurging, and it was all well and good, and then my debit card was declined. Um...I'm sorry...excuse me? It's so annoying because I knew without a doubt that I had plenty of money in my account. And it's so embarrassing because you're like "no, I'm sorry, I really do have money! It's lying!" and the cashier is just placating you like you're a hobo or something. But I got home and checked my account and, yes, I did in fact have plenty of dollars. I was really hoping it was a fluke.
So after the finger disaster with Hermes (oh that sounds super dirty), I tried to use my debit card again at dinner. No such luck. At least that time, they didn't tell me it said insufficient funds...like you feel the need to prove to these strangers that you're not destitute. Weird.
So that Monday, I went straightaway to the bank and told them my troubles. They couldn't see anything wrong, but ordered a new card just in case. So I took out a bunch of cash for the card-less days to follow, and life carried on.
The new card came in a few days later and I jumped at activating it. I went about changing the information on all my saved accounts, and a couple still told me there was something wrong. Um...I'm sorry...excuse me? Ugh. Called customer service and it turned out that the card had been hacked. They told me that they'd tried to contact me (prove that, bitches, I got nothing) to ask about some international purchases that were suspicious. Nope. So they cancelled it and ordered off for another new card. Good thing I took a bunch of cash out. So, that's strike 2...or 3? of bad things happening. That was over the weekend so I knew I couldn't expect my card anything soon. Life carried on.
That Tuesday, I was chatting with Hermes and he suggested we meet for coffee. I was exceptionally tired and my legs were feeling swollen and angry, but I thought it'd be nice to get out of the house. I agreed...I think something seemed a little off from the start, but I wasn't feeling overly gregarious anyway. Then he told me that he'd run into someone the previous weekend (try to keep up, it took me a while)...it was a friend of a girl that (I guess) he was interested in. He thought the girl was seeing someone but it turned out she really likes him. So he decided that he was going to pursue that instead. But, he had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to date him before he went into his whole thing. And then he tried to say that we didn't have that much in common and letting things go further would only make it worse and blah blah blah...all the bullshit people try to use to feel less like a douchebag.
Alright, don't get me wrong, it's not like I was in love with him or anything. I was mostly mad about rejection (I still have an ego and it still stings) and the fact that he tried to feed me that crap. Don't fucking lie and say it's personalities or interests...there's someone else that you want to bone. That's it!
I was pretty cold during that meeting. But, the absolute worst, most fucked up, completely asinine part: not only did he try the "I want to be friends" shit, he said we should go on double dates. FUCK YOU VERY MUCH. I told him that wasn't going to happen, and probably being friends wasn't either. I know I was stubborn, but it also felt kind of good to stand up for myself. Eventually I just rolled my eyes and left. Then he asked if I hated him and tried to give me some of the same bullshit...saying that I'm a good friend and he'd like to buy me dinner sometime. Ugh. There's a whole lot of NOPE there.
So I've been wallowing in self-pity and loneliness. Sometimes I feel that I'm really not asking that much in wanting a Spot to lay my head (girls, you know the one...the indent between the shoulder and clavicle where your head fits perfectly and he can wrap his arm around you); other times I know I'm picky and pretentious. Then I get to thinking that it's really between the lesser of two evils--settling or being alone.
(Sorry, that's a depressing sounding ending, but it also sounds a little melancholy and epic. But I also have to get up RIDICULOUSLY early--read: 4:45; wtf is that?--tomorrow. Also, I've now ruined my epicly melancholy ending. And apparently just made up the word "epicly." And I said "fuck" a lot in this post. Oh well. Fuck.)
Well, things have turned badly again.
A couple of weeks ago, I was out with Hermes. I was tired and not feeling great, so I'm sure I wasn't super nice. That's beside the point, though. After doing some shopping, we decided to go out to eat. As I was going to get out of the car, the car next to us was leaving, so I tried to stay out of the way and shut the door really close behind me. So close, in fact, that I shut my finger inside it. HOLY JESUS IT HURT. I really don't know how kids can handle that shit. PAIN. All up my arm, all the way to my friggin heart. Like, I was a little concerned because it hurt so bad even in my chest. Also, since Hermes drove, I had to get him to open the car back up. He was starting to walk inside by then, and apparently I was too calm and didn't convey the urgency of the situation well. I said I stayed there with my finger stuck for 30 seconds, Hermes says it was more like 15. Whatever, I'm pretty sure it was an eternity.
Hermes kept apologizing like it was his fault. It was very nice of him, and I really appreciated his concern. But it really was my own damn fault.
People kept telling me I need to start living in a bubble. Maybe I do.
That same weekend, well, actually the day before, my Mum and I did some shopping of our own. I was doing a little makeup splurging, and it was all well and good, and then my debit card was declined. Um...I'm sorry...excuse me? It's so annoying because I knew without a doubt that I had plenty of money in my account. And it's so embarrassing because you're like "no, I'm sorry, I really do have money! It's lying!" and the cashier is just placating you like you're a hobo or something. But I got home and checked my account and, yes, I did in fact have plenty of dollars. I was really hoping it was a fluke.
So after the finger disaster with Hermes (oh that sounds super dirty), I tried to use my debit card again at dinner. No such luck. At least that time, they didn't tell me it said insufficient funds...like you feel the need to prove to these strangers that you're not destitute. Weird.
So that Monday, I went straightaway to the bank and told them my troubles. They couldn't see anything wrong, but ordered a new card just in case. So I took out a bunch of cash for the card-less days to follow, and life carried on.
The new card came in a few days later and I jumped at activating it. I went about changing the information on all my saved accounts, and a couple still told me there was something wrong. Um...I'm sorry...excuse me? Ugh. Called customer service and it turned out that the card had been hacked. They told me that they'd tried to contact me (prove that, bitches, I got nothing) to ask about some international purchases that were suspicious. Nope. So they cancelled it and ordered off for another new card. Good thing I took a bunch of cash out. So, that's strike 2...or 3? of bad things happening. That was over the weekend so I knew I couldn't expect my card anything soon. Life carried on.
That Tuesday, I was chatting with Hermes and he suggested we meet for coffee. I was exceptionally tired and my legs were feeling swollen and angry, but I thought it'd be nice to get out of the house. I agreed...I think something seemed a little off from the start, but I wasn't feeling overly gregarious anyway. Then he told me that he'd run into someone the previous weekend (try to keep up, it took me a while)...it was a friend of a girl that (I guess) he was interested in. He thought the girl was seeing someone but it turned out she really likes him. So he decided that he was going to pursue that instead. But, he had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to date him before he went into his whole thing. And then he tried to say that we didn't have that much in common and letting things go further would only make it worse and blah blah blah...all the bullshit people try to use to feel less like a douchebag.
Alright, don't get me wrong, it's not like I was in love with him or anything. I was mostly mad about rejection (I still have an ego and it still stings) and the fact that he tried to feed me that crap. Don't fucking lie and say it's personalities or interests...there's someone else that you want to bone. That's it!
I was pretty cold during that meeting. But, the absolute worst, most fucked up, completely asinine part: not only did he try the "I want to be friends" shit, he said we should go on double dates. FUCK YOU VERY MUCH. I told him that wasn't going to happen, and probably being friends wasn't either. I know I was stubborn, but it also felt kind of good to stand up for myself. Eventually I just rolled my eyes and left. Then he asked if I hated him and tried to give me some of the same bullshit...saying that I'm a good friend and he'd like to buy me dinner sometime. Ugh. There's a whole lot of NOPE there.
So I've been wallowing in self-pity and loneliness. Sometimes I feel that I'm really not asking that much in wanting a Spot to lay my head (girls, you know the one...the indent between the shoulder and clavicle where your head fits perfectly and he can wrap his arm around you); other times I know I'm picky and pretentious. Then I get to thinking that it's really between the lesser of two evils--settling or being alone.
(Sorry, that's a depressing sounding ending, but it also sounds a little melancholy and epic. But I also have to get up RIDICULOUSLY early--read: 4:45; wtf is that?--tomorrow. Also, I've now ruined my epicly melancholy ending. And apparently just made up the word "epicly." And I said "fuck" a lot in this post. Oh well. Fuck.)
Sunday, April 20, 2014
I'm Just Not That Into You
It's not you, it's me. But also you.
I think we've quite established by now that I'm a strange creature.
That becomes blaringly (wait, that's not a word? Wtf? LIES.) apparent when I'm expected to have actual interactions with people. Shit, that's not even something anyone should feel the need to say. I went to a birthday party last night that I was just miserable at. I had even gone earlier to help my friend get ready, and I was fine. But once people started arriving, I was the only one who didn't know the rest of the group. Then (because I'm me) I had a hard time joining in the conversations where they were all chatting and catching up and I was the outsider who didn't know any of their stories. It made me sad that I'm so stupidly socially awkward.
My mom has told me multiple times that I stop being interested in a guy when he likes me and treats me well. I dunno, maybe she's right.
I recently brought her attention to that quote from The Perks of Being a Wallflower: "We accept the love we think we deserve." She then asked me where the hell I got my idea of thinking I deserve crappy love. And, really, I haven't the foggiest clue.
This part isn't so odd, I think, but once a small thing annoys me, I hate basically everything about that person...we'll call it The No Point. Usually I know pretty quickly whether or not I'm going to really like someone, too. Well, I've hit The No Point with Hermes already. It's not that there's anything he's done wrong or badly, it just isn't what I want.
Now here's the big question: when I'm fairly certain that there isn't a future with a guy, why do I keep trying? It may have something to do with knowing that guys are nice and feeling like I owe it a real attempt before giving up. Like maybe I can will myself into liking them. But then there are times, when I'm just annoyed with them (through no real fault of their own), and I feel like I'm being unnecessarily sarcastic and mean.
I don't think it's about just wanting to be with someone; I'm fine on my own. So that other thing is the best idea I've got. Still stupid.
Maybe the social awkwardness and the weird feeling of obligation are somehow related. Don't ask me how, but maybe they are. Either way, they both leave me feeling like I'd like to curl up into myself and be alone and safe. Uh, sorry, that's really depressing sounding. Yeah, I'm a strange person.
Hermes and I went to check out a new local brewery on Friday. To be honest, I had a really good time with him. (I think that also has something to do with the obligation; every once in a while I'll really enjoy the time I spend with them). Lindbergh was there. Thankfully, it took me a while to notice him, and his back was to me. I don't know if he saw us when we walked in or not. Fucker.
After Mass this morning (Happy Easter!), I was asked to sing at a wedding in July. I readily accepted; I love doing that stuff. Buuut....of course...it's a family that's really close to Soldier's family. I just can't get away from that fucker. Oops. Say a prayer for me that I just talked about church and said "fucker" in almost the same sentence. Well, this is awkward.
I think we've quite established by now that I'm a strange creature.
That becomes blaringly (wait, that's not a word? Wtf? LIES.) apparent when I'm expected to have actual interactions with people. Shit, that's not even something anyone should feel the need to say. I went to a birthday party last night that I was just miserable at. I had even gone earlier to help my friend get ready, and I was fine. But once people started arriving, I was the only one who didn't know the rest of the group. Then (because I'm me) I had a hard time joining in the conversations where they were all chatting and catching up and I was the outsider who didn't know any of their stories. It made me sad that I'm so stupidly socially awkward.
My mom has told me multiple times that I stop being interested in a guy when he likes me and treats me well. I dunno, maybe she's right.
I recently brought her attention to that quote from The Perks of Being a Wallflower: "We accept the love we think we deserve." She then asked me where the hell I got my idea of thinking I deserve crappy love. And, really, I haven't the foggiest clue.
This part isn't so odd, I think, but once a small thing annoys me, I hate basically everything about that person...we'll call it The No Point. Usually I know pretty quickly whether or not I'm going to really like someone, too. Well, I've hit The No Point with Hermes already. It's not that there's anything he's done wrong or badly, it just isn't what I want.
Now here's the big question: when I'm fairly certain that there isn't a future with a guy, why do I keep trying? It may have something to do with knowing that guys are nice and feeling like I owe it a real attempt before giving up. Like maybe I can will myself into liking them. But then there are times, when I'm just annoyed with them (through no real fault of their own), and I feel like I'm being unnecessarily sarcastic and mean.
I don't think it's about just wanting to be with someone; I'm fine on my own. So that other thing is the best idea I've got. Still stupid.
Maybe the social awkwardness and the weird feeling of obligation are somehow related. Don't ask me how, but maybe they are. Either way, they both leave me feeling like I'd like to curl up into myself and be alone and safe. Uh, sorry, that's really depressing sounding. Yeah, I'm a strange person.
Hermes and I went to check out a new local brewery on Friday. To be honest, I had a really good time with him. (I think that also has something to do with the obligation; every once in a while I'll really enjoy the time I spend with them). Lindbergh was there. Thankfully, it took me a while to notice him, and his back was to me. I don't know if he saw us when we walked in or not. Fucker.
After Mass this morning (Happy Easter!), I was asked to sing at a wedding in July. I readily accepted; I love doing that stuff. Buuut....of course...it's a family that's really close to Soldier's family. I just can't get away from that fucker. Oops. Say a prayer for me that I just talked about church and said "fucker" in almost the same sentence. Well, this is awkward.
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