Thursday, August 30, 2012

A Storied Past

Last week, in a super fun fit of self-pity and frustration, I took down this whole blog like a little bitch. Two people noticed, one of whom was my ex-husband. I promised him that if I started this blog back up again (hi!), I would specifically mention that he is "only gay 2 days out of the year." No, I'm not going to give that any context. Just keeping my promises here, people.

So now I'm back in a better head space and I'm thinking how I missed writing, and sure sometimes I get irritated that the things I have to write about are not necessarily happy things - they are mostly stories about how I was treated poorly, how I made bad decisions, how I did something really fucking stupid - but right now I'm thinking, so what? They're still MY stories.

Part of the reason I killed this thing is that I felt like it was turning into more of a LiveJournal situation, which was not what I wanted. I have a paper journal if I want to whine about my life, and hell, I'm pretty sure I still have my LJ account (which I used from 2001 to about 2008ish), somewhere out there in the never-fully-eraseable Internets. I started trying to think of more stories I can tell, and I thought of one! Hooray!

Sometimes I will casually mention in a conversation "the guy who moved out while I was at work one day." This is a thing that happened. And there you go, there's your story.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Maybe This Time

Despite the fact that I know every time I enter a similar situation, I get a similar outcome, I've realized that I can't seem to stop doing it.

There's a hopeless romantic inside of me, and to be honest I'm pretty sure she was dropped on her head as an imaginary inner voice baby, because bitch just does not learn. I look at a situation and I go, "ohhhh. This is bad news. I should not allow my feelings to enter into this." That stupid thing inside me pipes up, at first sort of quiet but soon more insistent, "but... you know... x, y, and z are different this time... so... maaaaybeeeeee..."

Me: You idiot. A, b, and c are the same. It's going to turn out the same. You know it, I know it, everyone fucking knows it!

Inner Voice Twerp: ...okay, but! Science! In an experiment, if you leave a, b, and c the same but change x, y, and z, you can get totally different results! It's FACT! You can't argue with that. You're logical. You can't refute SCIENCE.

Me: ....harrumph.

IVT: Oh come on. These feelings are good! They're happy! And I could be right this time. Just because I've been wrong ... umm... a lot of times before, that doesn't necessarily mean I won't be right this time! It only takes once!

Me: ...That's... true. Hmm. Well... okay...


And let me tell you, that Pollyanna bitch hasn't been right a single damn time yet, and she is never anywhere to be found when the whole thing falls apart at my feet. I suppose that leads to the question of why I bother listening to her. Why I keep jumping back in and trying over and over. Am I like a Don Quixote, charging windmills, completely foolish but kind of admirably brave? Or is this just flat-out idiocy?

Do I listen to my head, or to my heart?

Right now, there's nothing to listen to either way, so it seems like a good time to muse about it... quick, let's talk while the delusional romantic bitch is sleeping!

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Would you change history?

I genuinely, 100%, with no reservations wish that I had never met Cowboy. There is not one single thing I can think of that I took from that relationship that was worth what it felt like having it end. Usually if I think in anger, "I wish I'd never [something]," I then think, oh but then I might not have [something rad] - met someone, moved somewhere, done something awesome, etc. With Cowboy, I have no such "oh but" thoughts. We clearly are not going to be friends, we didn't do anything that I hadn't already done, and I didn't meet anyone worth knowing through him. DELETE. ...if only.

Is there anything in your life that you would erase if you could? Obviously there are ripple effects to consider... would you be the same person? would you be where you are now? would you just make the same mistake again?

Friday, August 3, 2012

Irrational Anger and Texas: Surprisingly Unrelated

I've reached that point post-breakup where I'm angry, but I realize I'm being totally irrational. When I break up with someone and I say I'd like to remain friends, I mean it. If I don't want to remain friends, I don't say that. If I'm the dumper, I leave it up to the dumpee, but I do, after a couple of weeks, let that person know, "Hey. I meant it about being friends. Just let me know when you're ready."

If you don't mean that shit, don't say it. I realize it's irrational of me to be angry right now that I haven't heard from Cowboy at all, despite him being the one who, unprompted, told me that he really wanted us to remain friends, and despite him saying he missed me when I drunk-dialed him a couple of weeks ago. I totally understand that most people don't actually mean those things. They say them out of guilt or in a desperate attempt to soften the blow. I know this. I also know that even if he did mean it at the time, perhaps he's changed his mind. Or perhaps he's thinking he should wait a while longer before contacting me. I KNOW THIS. But I'm still angry.

Again, let me stress that I know I'm being irrational. But not even getting a simple, "how are you?" text makes me feel forgotten, lied to, used. It makes me feel like all the lovely stuff he told me when we were together was a steaming pile of shit and really, he was just using me as fun and games to distract and amuse himself after his breakup. I find that is often my role in the dating world, and despite telling him this up front and expressing my concern that I would be a post-breakup fling, and his assurances that this was not so, that he was over it, that he was super duper into me, et cetera, et cetera, my sweet old et cetera... it was once again my role. Not even attempting to stay in touch just seems to drive that home. That all the things he said during the breakup were just spawned from his guilt over the fact that he had, in fact, only wanted me for fun.

That's where I'm at right now. Not terribly pleasant, but so it goes. It's been almost 3 weeks since my heart and my hope were both once again shattered by some guy who came along and made me believe when I'd given up on believing, and every time, friends, it gets harder to deal with. This guy was particularly convincing, and I do think he's "one of the good guys" and at some point, however brief, he really did care about me. I was ridiculously happy for a minute, so it's taking me longer than I'd like to get past it. GOOD TIMES ALL AROUND, GANG.

But that's sad and mopey and my heart is still disgustingly broken over the whole thing (what the eff, me? get better already!) so let's talk about Texas instead! Because I went there! Hooray!