Spes, Ultima Dea

Holy f-ing shit. Lesbian Soulmate is leaving for Vietnam in less than 3 hours. My most recent fling left for China (destination: Korea) on Wednesday. School starts in 2.5 weeks. I’m broke.

I need a drink.

No, seriously. Why is this news?

But I do feel slightly more justified in my disdain. I can barely walk without getting injured when I’m not doing anything else, you think I can walk and text? Psssht.

For the love of christ, people, stop getting married!

It’s really starting to freak me out now, knowing all the friends and acquaintances who have/are going to tie the knot.

I can think of six people I am or was friends with who have done the marriage thing, all before they were even 24.

I went to the wedding of one of my best friends just over a month ago. I just got an invitation to the wedding of another friend whom I haven’t actually seen in two years! Now I have three weeks to decide a) if I am going to fly to Chicago for a weekend in September to attend, and b) if I am going to beg one of my poor friends to come with me because I won’t know anyone there (I haven’t even met the bride, and I remember the night he met her over 4 years ago!).

And the newest addition to the list? My ex. He and the fiancée have finally set a date. (For January! Who DOES that?)

This is all a bit too much. Cool it with the nuptials, people!

I discovered a new kind of person I hate: people who use text messages as their primary form of communication.

Especially those fuckwits who use texts to make all of their plans.

And then, then - as if it could get any worse - if said fuckwit isn’t a Courteous Texter - meaning instead of 5 texts back and forth like Bing!Bing!Bing!Done!, conversations with him go something like this:

Him: Hey you want to do something?

Me: Sure. Like what?

…40 minutes later…

Him: I dunno. Get some dinner? See a movie?

Me: noticing it’s already 5:30 Okay. Mexican? When?

…an hour later…

Him: A couple hours? I have to run some errands first.

Me: disgruntled and hungry Ooo-kay. I’ll meet you there.

…two hours later, as I sit waiting for him…

Him: I’m gonna be a few minutes late, okay?

No, no, this is not okay.

And the worst thing about these d-bags is that they make me lazy. Once they have established themselves as Exclusively Texters, I find it really awkward to call them up to make plans the old fashioned way.

Use the phone for its intended purpose, fucker!

I’m having a bout of Issues. I feel like Joy in her dealings with The Neighbor.

Here I am, dealing with a boy who obviously likes me - he’s certainly been up front enough about that - and wants to take me out on real dates and always pays and wants to cuddle…and I’m just not into it.

And I feel awful because part of me really wants to be in a relationship and I know this would potentially be a good, fun - albeit short-term (as he’s interviewing for jobs in Korea) - summer fling. I also already have learned the drawbacks that might accompany said fling, and since it would be short-term, they’re not much to be worried about.

But apparently I’m just not that romantic because getting compliments all the time makes me feel awkward and self-conscious. And going on dates makes me feel pressured to have a great time and be really social. And always being treated to dinner/drinks/outings makes me feel cheap or old-fashioned or…something. And being all over each other is generally uncomfortable both in the physical sense and the “personal bubble” sense.

I can see how this would be an ideal relationship to a lot of people. But to me, it’s just too much. The intensity needs to be turned down a couple notches (…or halved, and then maybe halved again for good measure…).

Maybe I need to come up with some FAQ’s to pass out to any potential boyfriend, just to clear things up ahead of time.

Rules for dating me:
1. I’m not someone who needs to be complimented all the time. I’m not going to forget that you said you like me; it made me feel all fuzzy inside the first time you said it. But until this thing takes a turn for the Very Serious, hearing a laundry list of all the things you like about me is just kind of creepy.

2. I would probably be just as happy, if not more so, spending a night in making dinner and watching a movie than going out. I like when I can be quiet and not feel like I need to fill the silence. Because chances are if I feel like someone needs to say something, I will talk at length. About nothing. Which is almost as awkward as sitting in an uncomfortable silence. The best dates are either low-key or spontaneous. Anything where I don’t feel like I’m being watched or interviewed. Trust me, I’m more fun when I’m relaxed.

3. I like holding hands sometimes, or laying together/spooning in bed or on the couch. I do. Really. But excuse me, I am not a teddy bear; you do not need to cling to me while we’re laying around. Again, I get more touchy-feely and PDA-oriented as I get more comfortable in the relationship. But right now, I am not used to it and my personal space is important to me. Maybe I wasn’t hugged enough as a child, I don’t know. Please don’t take it personally.

Or maybe I just fail at dating.

I don’t care for traveling. As in, the physical act of moving from one location on the globe to another in the span of a matter of hours.

It fucks with my perception of time and reality.

This morning, eating breakfast in my parents’ kitchen; yesterday, waking up at the lake, sitting on my friend’s couch in the afternoon, joking the night away in another friend’s living room - all could be weeks ago according to my brain.

And yet, standing in line at the airport while waiting to go through security brought back such extreme déjà vu of the exact same procession I took six months ago that I thought I losing my marbles.

It also feels slightly weird to refer both to going to my parents’ house and returning to where I live now as “Going home.”

And then there’s the guilt I feel at seeing the nearly-imperceptible flinch on my parents’ faces when I say “home” and don’t mean with them.

Aside from these details, the trip was good. Even the wisdom teeth extraction was relatively un-sucky.

I had a grand time with the friends I got to see, the wedding was lavish*, and I spent a little time relaxing at the lake with family. I didn’t get to do everything I wanted, and thus felt bored some of the time, because I was limited by not having a vehicle. And the tooth appointment threw a wrench in the middle of my second week’s plans.

But despite not getting to The Taste, or down to my alma mater, or seeing all the people I said I would, I’d say it was a pretty fruitful vacation, with less drama than the last one and just enough tv to make me realize why cable is both awesome and horrible.

Best quote of the trip: “Grrr! I’m fat and angry!”

*and by “lavish” I mean “the bar has been set and I doubt any of my friends will meet it unless they marry royalty, so we all should aim for ‘unique’ or ‘alternative’ weddings.”

And just because I said I would… Continue reading Chicago, in sum…

Things that are awesome about this trip:

1. The Swell Season show in Chicago was awesome, and supposedly Barack Obama was in attendance.

2. I ♥ my friends. Even when they’re being jerks.

3. The first half of the bachelor party (the only part I could attend because of the concert that night) was a trip to racetrack to bet on the ponies. I won my first bet, and it allowed me to lose my next two guilt free.

4. The Wedding was actually quite a bit of fun. Open bar, band, 4 courses. Probably the most lavish wedding I will ever attend. The bar has been set, people, and I doubt any of my other friends will ever top it. None of us should even try.

Things that are not awesome:

1. Wisdom teeth extraction in 48 hours. Boo.

2. Being stuck without a car.

3. Saying goodbye to my Lesbian Soulmate for probably the next year.

So@24’s introspection, For. The. Win.:

I learned what it was like to get rejected by someone who I thought, for sure, was as equally interested in me. Although it wasn’t a straight out, black & white, rejection… I learned that if you have to fight for something too much… then [the person]’s really not all that interested. And besides, do you want to really be with someone who is resisting at all? Doesn’t sound too promising to me.

I gotta admit some slippage here. I’m still talking to The Math Teacher. And things got weird this weekend.

As in, his drunken admission that he’s way more into me than I ever thought, but that he’s terrified. And for reasons directly related to him apparently being one of the most insecure people I’ve ever met, he decided he had to push me away before we got too close. But he still wants me around.

Dunno what to do with that given that he’s moving even farther away from me. So I guess the answer is there, spelled out so nicely by So@24. A person who doesn’t fight isn’t worth fighting for.

***

In completely unrelated news, it’s hot as mothafuckin blazes here. Like, the heat index was easily around 105 today.

So this afternoon, while I was out walking (’cause global warming is no excuse to be lazy, but dying of heatstroke is reason enough to suspend the jogging routine…that and the still unhealed sprain), I saw this woman walking her two Pug dogs.

I hate Pugs. They’re ugly and sickly and generally annoy me to look at.

And these had to be two of the fattest Pugs I’ve ever seen. They were like little Pug blimps with legs.

And this woman was absolutely dragging them along because those little bastards were Not Pleased to be out walking in this god-awful heat. And she was barely moving. I’m surprised their little obese Pug hearts didn’t go into cardiac arrest just from venturing beyond the food bowl.

It just reinforced my disdain for this inbred, homely breed.

In case anyone is wondering what I finally decided to wear to the wedding…
Continue reading Playing dress up…

The charm of a barefoot Cinderella is that her beauty obeys no formula and therefore can sneak up on a man. When he becomes aware of it, he feels like he’s discovered a secret. And secrets are always exciting.

That short little paragraph cued the crack in the dam that had been holding back all my emotions about everything that happened with The Math Teacher.

And then the tears started. But I figured this was a good thing, a healthy thing. Just get it out.

I mentioned this flurry of emotion to Narcissus (who really has been amazing to me throughout this whole ordeal), and he, being a well-intentioned boy, said one of those things that should have been comforting, uplifting, amusing, and mildly distracting.

He said: “hold me!!!!!!! :)”

And I don’t know what about those two words was The Wrong Thing To Say, but that simple statement sent me into a fit of hysterics to dwarf the first round, which had, by this point, been reduced to pathetic sniffles.

I sat there, in the dark, in the middle of the night, bawling my eyes out, not over The Math Teacher, not because Narcissus and my other friends can only provide support from afar, but for myself - for the self-loathing and doubt that constantly lingers just beneath the surface of my otherwise calm exterior.

TMT confused me because his actions didn’t always match his words and vice versa. But the boy was always very complimentary of me, something which always puts me on edge, but to which I always try to smile, nod, and say Thank You. I try not to let the irrational suspicion of Ulterior Motives get in the way.

But for some reason, this is not something I can easily avoid. Does he mean it? Is he just saying that? Is he nuts?

Angela (who is going through real heartbreak right now, and put this much more succinctly than I can) made the point that when someone you trust, and whose praise you believed, makes a painful exit from your life, that person frequently negates said praise and takes with them your self-esteem. You are left questioning if what they said was ever true. And then you question all the more whether anyone else will ever feel those things for you, or say those things about you, again.

And what’s worst of all, sometimes you start to think that not only were you stupid ever to have believed that person to begin with, but that it wasn’t true because it couldn’t be true and you don’t deserve to be loved, be admired, or feel happy, at all. Such is the destructive cycle of self-hatred.

I recognize the irrationality of it. I know that this is the wrong way to think. I know it’s not true.

But I still find it almost impossible not to inwardly scoff at those well-intentioned boys - even just friendly penpals - who drop compliments of “smart and sexy”, or the like, casually into conversation.

And that’s why this article set me off. The idea that imperfection really can be perfection to someone was too overwhelming to keep all my doubts inside anymore.

And I had to let them all flood out.