Desk: The Email, Pt 2

(Prologue here -- Email, Pt 1 here)

I told you it was the longest email ever! So let's keep going, because I don't think I've been insulted enough... and I'm just going to ignore his misspellings but you should know I SEE THEM.

None of those things on there own is particularly damning, it's just
taken together I can't help see the patterns emerge.  It naturally
leads me along another line of reasoning, to wonder if maybe you have
fallen prey to believing some lies about yourself...that you aren't
beautiful, that you need anti-depressants, that you must smell a
certain way to fit into this culture.

Actually, my nose is what tells me how I should smell, and I prefer to smell nice.

I see you not trusting your beauty so you hide it.  I see you 
hooked by big Pharma on products that don't cure your depression 
and decrease your ability to experience orgasm.

"big Pharma"? What? So medicine that helps me not want to kill myself is bad, but smoking pot every single day (which he does) is perfectly acceptable? And since when can I not experience orgasm? Oh yeah, that ONE time, the last time we were together, the night you ranted about the environment and I just wasn't feeling it with you so I said "it's not gonna happen." THAT time. Yep. Must've been the meds.


Since we already know this blog doesn't cater to the idea of "TMI" - I don't orgasm during sex, like, 95% of the time. But I didn't do that before I ever took a single anti-depressant, either. It's really not that uncommon.

I see your compulsion to always keep deodorant at hand

OH MY GOD NOT DEODORANT!!

The reality is, I see who you could be.  I see [BobGinger] the
woman, who is independant, and in control of her life.  I usually see
her most only in the bedroom, but from time to time elsewhere as well,
empowering herself at the Solstice parade and Slutwalk.  But most
often, it is [BobGinger] the little girl who I encounter, and I am not
interested in knowing her - or really having anything to do with her
at all. Unfortunately, the later has nearly buried the former.

It's okay. There's not a single part of my multi-faceted personality that wants a damn thing to do with you, either.

If there is anything I hope this letter accomplishes, it will be
simply dialogue.  Whether my opinions are proven to have a measure of
insight or are deemed the delusional judgments of a raving asshole, I
hope that it will start a greater dialogue about where you're at - if
even only with yourself.

Please, everyone, stand back. I don't think there's enough room in here for both you AND this guy's ego.

Then follows an entire paragraph about he opened his mind to new foods and new music and learned to love it. It's a really long paragraph, and that is pretty much all it covers.

My reaction to this entire paragraph? "Good for you, buddy."

I think you try new things/foods/music as much to verify that you
don't like them and reinforce your relationship with the 
things/foods/music that comfort you, as you do to simply try 
something new.

What? I don't try new things just to "verify" that I don't like them. I try them because I want to like new things, and a lot of times, I do in fact like what I try. I'm so fucking sick of being looked down on because I don't like certain foods. I didn't pick my tongue and my taste buds, fuckers.

If this letter is at all on the money, I hope you can hear my
challenge to you; I think if you abandoned the crutches in your life -
masturbation, anti-depressants, whining - 

Masturbation is a crutch? Anti-depressants are a crutch? Says he from up high on his self-made pedestal of pot-smoking...

If I'm way out of line, I expect you'll let me know. 

I did.

I don't mean this as an insult or a slam, but truthfully, 
I see the child in you robbing the woman in you of the opportunity 
to not become a crazy old cat lady.  Currently, you appear to be 
on track towards your worst nightmare.

No, no, how could I possibly take ANY of what you've written as an insult or a slam, O Great Master of Psychology? And thanks so much for telling me that I'm "on track" to becoming "a crazy old cat lady." Because if YOU don't like me, then clearly I am doomed to be forever single.

As I've spent time contemplating this letter and it's contents,
foregoing further romantic entanglement seems to be the most prudent
thing for our friendship.

That option has long since left the harbor. Cute that he thought it was still there.

Whatever happens next, I hope we can remain friends, and I hope you
know you can still talk to me about anything.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmnope. Here, for the record, is what I wrote back to him:

> If I'm way out of line, I expect you'll let me know.

Yes, you are wildly out of line.

You tried to force me to lower my walls for you, but you insisted 
you needed to be "comfortable." I didn't get to have that luxury. 
I knew you weren't what I wanted, and I know I wasn't what you wanted, 
but I figured if we were continuing to fuck, maybe you'd let me into 
your life a little. You know... help me to be comfortable with you so 
maybe I could open up more.

The long and short of it is that you still don't know me at all, nor 
do I care to let you. You are pretentious and egotistical and before 
I even questioned anything that night, I knew our last date was our 
last. I paid for myself at dinner because I'm not the kind of girl 
who uses dates to get free food, and I would have felt guilty, knowing 
as I did that it was soon to be over.

And your line about me "sitting alone in [my] apartment" was rude 
and uncalled for. I had a life before you, I had a life while knowing 
you, and I will continue to have a life after you. Past that, I could 
continue to defend myself against your allegations, but there's no 
reason. You see what you see.

Obviously I decided to "defend" myself after all, although in a more public-ish forum. It was therapeutic, to be honest. I wanted to say all this, but I knew it wouldn't matter for me to say it to HIM.

Now if you will excuse me, it's time to leave the job that I hate, so I can go home to my best friend the cat, and play some videogames from my childhood. Perhaps I'll eat mac and cheese while I do so. And then I'll masturbate to orgasm while chewing on my anti-depressants.