Well. There’s my answer…

I’ll be moving to a new apartment in a couple months, and my therapist asked if I’d want her to refer me to someone closer to the new place.

1. Now I think my therapist wants to get rid of me.

2. I said, “I don’t know, unless you think I don’t even NEED to be in therapy…?” and she raised her eyebrow damn near off her head, and I laughed, and she laughed, and so… yeah. Guess I’m gonna keep going.

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Maybe I can downgrade to a Stage 4 Clinger…

Therapist: “So, this thing where you’re calling yourself stupid, and clingy, and crazy where’s that coming from?”

Me: “I don’t know, I feel like I was pressuring him. He has anxiety and depression, too, and I know how that feels, to have someone demanding your time, another THING you have to keep up with. Honestly, I’m kinda psyched to have Sundays to myself again, so I get where he’s coming from.”

Therapist: “OK, I get that. But from everything you’ve told me  and obviously I’m your Person, so I’m biased  this sounds like it’s him, not you. Basically the only thing you asked him for was more sex. Maybe you could’ve been more direct about saying it, but that doesn’t make it clingy, or crazy, or stupid. Putting aside the sexual component, if you had a friend and communication with them dropped off like it did here, would you be concerned and check in with them?”

Me: “Yes.”

Therapist: “That’s not crazy. It’s caring about a human being.”

I LOVE paying people to tell me I’m right.

She told me it was fine to send him an email I’ve written offering a friendship, but the longer I don’t hear from him after the last message I sent, the less interest I have in that idea. I’m not that bad at taking a hint.

The Girls’ Guide to Emotional Fort Building

Ah, yes. A key decision in any “relationship” — do I end it now while I’m pretty sure I can handle it, or let it ride until it crashes and burns in the most damaging possible way?

Pfft. JK, it’s not actually a question. Y’all know I’ll suffer for a good story — let’s dance, Feelings!

Kidding. The beauty of having played the He’s Just Not That Into You home game for 2 years a while back is that I can see it easily now. Plus ending the 10-year relationship right before THAT… I mean, it can’t hurt TOO much if this one ends. “We’re done? Oh, OK, cool. I’ll have more time to clean.”

But it turns out the “slut shame” doesn’t come from the sex. It comes from sex being all there is — from me not being feelings-worthy for whatever reason, from being kept around solely for my ability to wet a dick.

I’m not built for that. I don’t need Edward Lewis, but I damn sure ain’t settlin’ for Stuckey. 

I acknowledge the possibility that I’m hormonal and misinterpreting, but I think I’m right. If I can’t tell that you, um, like me, or want to spend time with me, that is legit insane-making for my membranes.

I deleted (not blocked) his number, and, with it, my ability to text him anything belligerent and cunty. He’s still free to contact me, though, so we’ll see what happens.

Hm… Though I guess I probably should’ve seen what happened before I spent the weekend getting myself over this based on these assumptions… Oops. Ah, well. Call it preventive care. 

The best-(getting)-laid plans

I might get to have sex tomorrow, so obviously my brain has picked today to have a total goddamn meltdown and decide that everything about my physical appearance is disgusting.

Whatever, bitch. You know he doesn’t care about a pimple — you wouldn’t want to sleep with him if he did. And he’s already seen you naked and still opted to invite you back.

We are getting laid if the opportunity presents itself, so get your judgy ass on board.

“What about all that other stuff I’m telling you, how he’s probably already over any real attraction but is smart enough not to say so to a woman who’s so clearly willing to sleep with him?”

Nope. Don’t care. Maybe he’ll fuck the Crazy out of you, and if that doesn’t work, that’s why we pay a therapist.

Apparently being funny runs in the family.

Texting friends about my family:

Me: “My sister just told me she thinks she and I are ‘curbing the insanity’ in the family. BRB, have to go laugh for a week straight.”

Friend 1: “I literally laughed out loud. Loudly. It may have been a cackle.”

Friend 2: “The funniest part is she really believes that.”