My brain is broken.

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.)

This could be the beginning of a beautiful fuck-friendship.

This amuses me more than it should…

Dude wrote me back within 24 hours this time, accepting my offer of “naked or otherwise” friendship, because duh. (“We’ll have to have a discussion next time we hang out.” Mm hmm, ‘kay…)

But because I’d deleted him from Facebook, my phone displayed his message once, then sent it to some “other messages” Facebook purgatory that, as far as I know, I can only access on a computer, and…fuck it, I’ve had a long week, and starting up a laptop AND a browser feels like a lot of effort for a dude tryna tell me I’m clingy.

Talk Monday, shitheel.

^^^ This should all end well, right…?

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.

Walking around naked. Like ya do.

The other day, my amazing friend* ran a body confidence class at the sex shoppe (yep, shoppe). For “homework,” she assigned us to go home and spend an hour naked, checking out our bodies, noting the good, disregarding the bad, and just getting comfortable seeing them.

So I just emailed her and said, “Just letting you know I’m walking around naked. Carry on.”

Not gonna lie, I’m NOTICING the bad. (“Really? Those are my boobs? Huh…”) But overall, I’m kind of adorable.

Also, the heat in my house is up to like 80 degrees because brrrrr.

Also, I may have strange friendships. But they’re the best.

* FYI, the friend is the lovely and talented Yvette St. James, and you should follow her on Twitter and attend all her classes because they’re super fun and informative.

New Year, resolution 

I guess once you’ve told someone, “You’re a coward, a liar, and an asshole, and I’m sorry I ever met you”…That’s probably closure, right? 

I couldn’t even cry, I was just so tired. I sent the email and then sat there like, “Huh. OK, so that’s that, then.” (I mean, I’m not thrilled, but…)

He responded implying I’m being petty, like, “I’ll refrain from name calling, but that’s wonderful, thanks” was part of it.

Umm…you’re welcome. And I dare you to call me any name I haven’t already called myself. 

Crazy slut? Pfft. I have that shit engraved in one of those nameplate necklaces. It’s on my resumé.

Clingy, desperate? I’ll own that. It wasn’t my finest behavior, but I learned from it.

Resentful? Bitter? Probably. But part of re-gutting myself was to get past this permanently. Plus it’s been so long that it’s hard to really resent some…ghost of a person you never really knew, who exists only in some hazy online ether now. It’d be like hating that money-grubbing Nigerian prince.

During our…whatever, I asked numerous times if he had the same feelings for me. I probably would’ve been able to infer he didn’t if he and I had a standard romantic relationship. But we’d started as friends and always agreed we wanted to stay friends. So my brain went blurry, because a friend would never knowingly let things happen the way they did — they would’ve leveled with me. (I’ve done it before. It sucked, but the friendship survived.) 

But I had to give up knowing; it was hurting me too much. So I went about assuming it was over, accepting that, and letting him be.

But then his blog likes, Facebook friend request, and LinkedIn profile checkup started grating on me, like, “OK, what are you doing?” Then came his invitation to discuss things he’d seen me writing about him here. So we discussed — argued, really, via email. But I got my answer: He never felt the same way, and finally told me directly.

SO. Not the answer I wanted, but an answer, one I knew was possible. It’s what I’d guessed, but was never 100% sure. I always told him I’d feel better if he just said it (he never would, either out of kindness or desire to keep me hooked), and I do feel better. Part of my mental reaction was, “THANK YOU. Christ, was that so hard?!” But it would’ve been easier, and we’d still be friends, if he’d said it sooner. 

I can’t know how the discussion affected him (I’d guess just relief I finally stopped talking). I’m…partly bummed I was so spectacularly wrong about truly knowing him, and honestly, that I’ll never get to have sex with him. (Don’t judge me — I REALLY wanted to. It would’ve been great, to the point that I probably still would if he tried, which is pretty fucked up so I’m happy it’s not an option.) But I’m also relieved I have my answer, and that I got to say what I needed to. (Sad truth? I still don’t entirely believe him. But I’ll get there.)

It sucks we imploded a friendship, because I really valued him that way more than romantically, but he acknowledged the friendship wasn’t much reciprocated, either. And the longer I was left wondering, realizing I’d started being hurt by our conversations more than I was enjoying them, that I’d ended up feeling dirty and used, and that he didn’t miss me even as a friend, the easier it was to let go of that as well. 

Cheers to a year.

I know it’s Wednesday, but I’ll have more pressing things to think about tomorrow. So here’s a little pseudo-#TBT to celebrate me accomplishing a goal I set LAST New Year’s. It’s one I never thought I’d be strong enough to accomplish: taking the space I needed, identifying unhealthy (read: masochistic) behavior, and realizing that even in a friendship, I’m worthy of effort, especially in a friendship that would’ve required effort to survive.

Since I’ve been forced to think about my “accomplishments” over this past year, let’s hear it for progress. And in the new year, let it continue, along with my other accomplishments/goals.

Let’s do this, Year.

Life Lessons from Small Ponies. 

You could probably tell I didn’t have the best emotional time over the weekend (fuck the entire Venn diagram of the holidays and PMS, seriously). Male BFF was concerned and invited me over for alcohol and merriment with him and his lady, one of my Female BFFs.

I declined but texted my thanks, and man, I tell ya, the My Little Ponies are right — friendship IS magic: 


Let’s get to know each other better. And by “better,” I mean “naked.”

I’ve been tempted to contact an acquaintance of mine and just say, “I think you’d be amenable to sleeping with me, that you’d satisfy me, and not disrespect me OR want to date me after. So… wanna?”

I’d be offended if a guy said that to me, but I suspect, as a woman, it would make me some kind of hero.

Um… Is that why it’s “organic?”

The entirety of my text conversation with a friend:

Friend: “It’s so wrong that my kid’s bath soap looks like a fresh batch of come…ewww.”
Me: “Eeeewwww. But ha. :)”
Friend: “I knew you’d understand.”

My friendships are…different, aren’t they?

Follow-up thought: At least it was a fresh batch?