One of the things I hate most about depression is… OK, fine, I COULD be. I’ll allow it. But has anyone considered that everything actually IS boring and shitty, and that staying in bed IS, in fact, the solution?
It merits investigation, is all I’m saying.
I have this habit of intending to respond to OkCupid messages, but then I forget about it, or I want to wait until I’m at a computer instead of my phone, and then suddenly a week has passed and I think, “Well, if I really wanted to reply, I would’ve made it more of a priority,” so I just delete the message.
When I told my therapist about this, she said, “Hey, maybe don’t do that? You saved those messages for a reason. Either write back or delete them, but letting them sit in your inbox makes them just another to-do item looming in your brain, making you feel like you’re behind on life and bad at being an adult.”
So, um… Can y’all write these dudes back?
Apparently I have hella issues and emotional walls and I think I’m boring so I don’t want to waste anyone’s time? I didn’t know these things about myself — never go to therapy. “I would’ve made it more of priority” sounds far less tragic, like I’m just such a busy, baller boss bitch that I don’t have time for you people and your penises.
But hey, you know what? Frankly I’m doing these men a favor. If I never answer, they’ll never get any of my Crazy on them, and then no one gets hurt. I’ll just continue hiding in my little Singleton cave and never getting laid and letting these feelings deepen and fester until I’m a crazy, old cat lady who dies alone and the cats eat my face. What’s the problem? The cats will be fed!
(Ahem. Why, yes, it has occurred to me that perhaps I should be in therapy twice a week.)
Yesterday my friends told me they ran into Guy I Dated For a Minute, and now for some reason it’s all I can think about.
I THINK it’s partly because my doctors are screwing with the drugs I take, so I hadn’t been in the greatest mental place, anyway, but it’s sort of spiraled into a fun rehash of the “not enoughs” — pretty, smart, cool, good in bed… All the things you think you can suck at, I’ve been telling myself I suck at. Like… this dude doesn’t even want to be FRIENDS with me. What the fuck is that? Am I THAT boring? I even offered him friends with benefits and…still no? So I’m not good enough in bed to fuck a third time?
And by the way? The sex was…serviceable. It was good, but not great. It got the job done. And the dude’s nice and all, but I think I mostly saw friendship there. I have no idea why this is bothering me so much NOW. We’ve been not dating longer than we WERE dating, and it HADN’T been bothering me before. I think I’m finally getting that we’re not going to even be friends, and so I just feel gross and used and stupid. Again. (I teared up while writing that, so it’s possible I nailed it.)
The “stupid” is big because I’m attracted to people smarter than I am, in relationships and friendships, and it goddamn blows to not even be friends-worthy.
*shaking head*
UGHHHHHH. Bitch, stop being a bitch, bitch!
(Here’s hoping putting this in writing is therapeutic, because my actual therapist is on vacation this week.)
OH, OK, cool, so… he hasn’t texted since Monday afternoon, so obviously he decided I’m boring and bad in bed and is going to ghost on me.
^^^ Real thought my brain just had.
Despite the fact that he’s not dumb enough to do that, because if I tell our mutual friends he was mean to me, they will call him a shithead coward forever.
Weirdly, I’m actually kind of OK with wanting to hear from him but not. It’s better than the “please stop talking…” tipping point I’ve reached with previous attempts at dating.
Also… I mean… Not to be conceited, but… I’ve watched his face — I’m not bad in bed.
So worst case, I’m just boring. TREMENDOUS. THAT’S TREMENDOUS.
When’s therapy again?
Bitchy texting with a friend about an ex’s Facebook posts about his backyard garden:
Me: “I like gardening, and I love tomatoes and all their cognates. How is he making tomatoes so boring?”
Friend: “Because he’s the kind of man that would take a dick day to sit in the house all day watching Pawn Stars instead of fucking, going out to eat, going for a walk, going to a museum, cooking with you, playing naked Twister, taking turns reading dirty Internet fan fiction, or ANYTHING more interesting.”
Me: “Fair. Also, I know what you meant, but how great would a ‘dick day’ be?”
Friend: “Well, technically it should have been a ‘dick day,’ he’s just dumb.”
(NB: Still better than that time a guy looked past my lingerie-clad 20-year-old body because I was standing in the way of pro wrestling on TV.)
Honest breakup reasons…
“I thought I was ready, but I’m not. Well, OK, I probably COULD be ready, if you didn’t bore me and our sex wasn’t awkward.”
Quotable friend: “Pistachio? Jesus, I’d break up with him just because his favorite ice cream is the most boring flavor ever.”
Smug Singleton 