For the longest time I didn't feel that way and then I would write long, rambling entries that inspired and touched some people and enraged other people to the point that they would leave anonymous rude entries in my guestbook (of course, they weren't really anonymous, but they didn't know that). Anyway, now it doesn't have anywhere to go, and since I haven't been writing regularly for almost eight months, it has to be backing up. I mean it must be like red meat getting stuck in your colon... right?
Well I have had an almost extreme, at times, anger flowing uneasily through me since talking to C. last night. I don't care about Valentine's Day or the lack of romantic plans for that day, really. I realized last night, as I was angrily falling asleep and irrationally vowing to blow him off, that he hadn't done anything wrong. He'd been sweet to me on the phone, telling me he had been listening every day to the song that was playing while we kissed the first time, and when I joked I would beat him up for something he said, he told me that if he could have a kiss at the end he'd gladly subject himself to a beating. But the only part of the whole long conversation I could think of was the part where he told me we should go see Big Fish and then the blah blah blah of conversation and then me asking him when he wanted to go: specifically, teasing him that he was shy about asking me out, which he took dead seriously and quickly replied, "well I have some loose plans with my friend this weekend and I didn't want to make other plans that might screw those up, so I was going to check with him before making plans with you- I mean I want to see you- so why don't we go out on Sunday?" Which I, being impossible to please, was utterly and thoroughly disappointed to respond "That sounds great!" to. I ranted and raved to the folks here about hating stupid men and Valentine's Day and blah blah blah and was seriously angry the rest of last night.
But today made things a lot clearer- I really just hate games. I really just hate it when someone wants to take their time getting to know me. And really, I hate a lot of men. The ones who have hurt me and not been nearly as careful with my feelings as I have been with theirs- I fucking hate them, every time I am trying to feel my way into something new.
I thought about it. I had been playing this so well. This guy brings out the most charming side of me, and I can feel it when I'm with him- I'm charmed by myself when I'm with him. He's been acting adorably slightly awestruck by me since we met, acting lucky to catch me on the phone or to get an email or a call, timidly asking for prime weekend time to go out, etc. And when it comes to a guy I really want- one that I am not only viscerally attracted to, but one who fits into the mold of what I have cerebrally deduced is the right kind of guy for me- I am incredibly good at playing the game. This sort of guy is very predictable and for lack of a better, less vile term, manipulated. Manipulated is really the wrong word- I should say, it is easy for me to tell how much of myself to reveal to this sort of person. I could just sense how often to talk to him, how much to say, how personal to get. I know that he needs to be the one to call me, and that he will. I know that when he tells me something personal, to not go quite that far. I know when he tells me I am beautiful, to smile and not say anything back.
And this is what is bothering me.
I mean, ha, it wasn't bothering me when I was executing it flawlessly, at least I dont think it was. But last night, I just wasn't in a game-playing sort of mood, and dammit, I threw everything off balance by asking him when he wanted to go out.
And so I've a)been beating myself up for that little indiscretion, and b)being pissed off that I have to play these stupid crappy games.
People claim that you don't have to play games, that you should just be yourself, act how you would normally act. Well, this is fucking bullshit, and I'd like to smack the shit out of all those people. Men say this but never really mean it, and that alone frustrates me. Men say they like "assertive" (read: pushy) women, but they don't. It's a fucking load of shit. Oh, I'm suuuuure there are a few, but not the kind of guy that fits into my mold. The kind of guy that fits into my mold says he likes that shit, but really doesn't. Which is evil.
Anyway, I fucked up my game and I am pissed off about it. I guess if fucking up my game still results in going out with the guy, just on a Sunday (which just rubs me the wrong way- I hate Sunday- it's the most worthless day of the week- you can't go out really because you have to work Monday, and it isn't satisfying like Saturday, knowing that you have another morning to sleep in, or like Friday, when you have that pleasant feeling of a work week behind you and a weekend ahead of you- Sunday sucks-), then I should stop complaining.
But even so. I am not looking forward to this the way I was to our first date last Friday. Man, I haven't looked forward to something like that in the same way since... I don't know when. It was such an unexpected feeling. I've realized that while I have a somewhat exuberant personality, I rarely really look forward to something. And that is sad.
Last night I was feeling so bad I thought about writing him an email to tell him I couldn't go on Sunday.
That conversation dredged up a whole bunch of old emotional shit and I am having a hard time remembering that it has nothing to do with C., this poor guy who has taken me out on one measly (wonderful) date. I hate that he has no idea what he's getting himself into. I am so damn hard to satisfy, I get bored with people so easily, and the only real quality I have to redeem myself is that I am constantly trying to change the things that are wrong with me. Before this week, I had honestly forgotten all the things about me that SUCK when I am with someone. I forgot how dissatisfied I am with things.
But more than fucking up my game, I am feeling untrusting. I've filed away everything he has said that could be used to build a case that he is just another asshole like allllll the ones I've had the pleasure of dealing with since February 14th, 2001. Oh yeah- Lee and I broke up that day. Happy Valentine's Day.
Sometimes I wonder if what I am feeling is a serious hatred for men, as I have defined man: my brother, my father, other people who work on cars and provide for their families and are Sox fans. Sometimes I think I actually hate them all. Is there a man in this life who has not disappointed me? Is there one who won't? And how do I not let that make me tell this one to fuck off in one way or another over the next month? That's when I do it, and I know it.
I've been struggling for the last half day with whether or not a relationship is really something I want to get into, debating theoretically whether or not I even enjoy being in one. When I think about past relationships, I only remember a few things: fun times, someone being there for me when I was depressed, and being loved. I don't think of sex, or lack thereof, I don't think of swallowing my frustration at someone's actions, I don't think of being bored and wishing to be free(although, I never did that for long before actually breaking free). All I think of are the good things. And my totally retarded, displaced emotions at not playing C. exactly right so that (in my mind) he will continue to fall for me and us not getting together for stupid valentine's day is reminding me a little of all my irrationalities from within a relationship with someone I actually love. What surprises me but doesn't really is that there is enough about me to love that it was worth it for them.
Somehow though I know that the answer to the question I've been posing to myself about whether or not it's just a fantasy that I want, is no. I really do want another chance to be with someone the way I have before... I really want that. I think I'm just tired of having to hold back and watch what I say. Because truthfully, there is nothing to play in the negative sense of the word, but it is a giant game of strategy- knowing what to reveal, how to reveal it, and when. What to say, when to call, how much space to give, what sweet things to say. It's a big game. And I am really tired.
© beotch at
12:47 a.m.
comment