I’m not a huge “Secret” person or anything, but I guess I should at least TRY to begin the new year with good juju — making literal room for a man in my bed so maybe I’ll create figurative room for one in my head.
At least the laundry’s clean?
Happy new year, all!
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.
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.
Like everyone else, I’ve been trying to eat better in the new year, and to that end, I’ve been trying to make sense of kale.
Kale and I have a lot in common: Rub us the right way and we become delicious, and far more inclined to bend to your will.
As seen at Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook page:
“I’m not choosing. I’m not choosing Jake. I’m not choosing Fitz. I choose ME. I’m choosing Olivia. And right now, Olivia is dancing. I’m dancing, I’m free! Now, you can dance with me, or you can get off my dance floor. I’m fine dancing alone.”
— Olivia Pope
I choose me, you guys. 2014 has been a mental shitstorm for me, and I’m done. Onward. I hope to make 2015 my dance floor, and I hope y’all enjoy the show.
I wish you a safe and happy evening, and a wonderful new year. Cheers!
I know New Years is an arbitrary construct, and that my issues will still be my issues come January 1.
But I’m carrying over enough real problems, so I want to rid my psyche of as much clutter as I can before the new year begins. Plus, I wrote this a while back, and I just want it out of my head. I’ve spent much of this year cleaning house (literally and figuratively), and I want my tabula as rasa as possible.
So here we go. It’s long, so if you don’t feel like reading: a friendship is over and I’m processing the ensuing Feels.
I mentioned this briefly before, but I fell for someone earlier this year. (Which made the residual feelings for my ex even more confusing, but that’s not today’s story.)
I wasn’t in LOVE, but I was definitely in that consuming, heady infatuation of being into someone new. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time (since my ex), to have everything click. And he brought out a lot of aspects of my personality (good and bad, but passionate either way) I either didn’t know or had forgotten I had.
I thought it could’ve been something good, and that it was mutual, and no one could convince me otherwise.
Until the guy convinced me otherwise. He doesn’t even want us to be friends, which I never expected.
I have some quixotic notions of what might be “the real problem,” but it’s hard to delude myself. I considered him one of my best friends, and now he’s not. Which is fine. In any relationship, even a friendship, if one person wants less, that’s the path you take. The person who wants more either has to adjust or move on. I’ve been on both sides of this. And I’m not blaming him — I could’ve handled things better.
But it feels shitty. It’s like a breakup, but not. It’s fine, though. If we can’t even make a friendship work, chances are a romantic relationship would’ve ended badly. Of course, getting to sleep with him probably would’ve helped. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days if I’d ever, uh, HAD the guy.
But, um… our “friendship” did include several instances of intimacy. Not intercourse, but intimacy. (Or what *I* considered intimacy; I don’t know how he saw it. He made me climax, so…felt pretty intimate.) And it wasn’t like I was trying to distract myself like I was with those other assclowns I tried dating. I offered this guy my body because I liked him, because I trusted him, and he knew it. So now it just feels slutty and cheap and naive — like anything we’d shared even as friends was meaningless, like I completely misjudged him and myself.
I told him I thought it was just about sex, that I could’ve been anyone, and he acted offended and said, “How do I prove to you that’s not true?” My response was, “Time, trust, and friendship.” Aaaand then he stopped talking to me.
So all it would take to prove he cares about me beyond sex was to…care about me beyond sex, and I’m not worth even that. He’d rather have me out of his life than make any effort to keep me in it. He’s giving me the “time,” but the “trust and friendship” bits were kind of important. Just time leaves me to operate on my own thoughts and presumptions, and he knew me well enough to know that wouldn’t end well.
During the last conversation we had, he said he has a habit of establishing groundwork in friendships and then maintaining them intermittently whenever paths cross. Which…is bullshit. This isn’t Serendipity, fuckbake — we don’t even live near each other. Our paths are never going to cross unless we make them.
One of the last things I said to him was that he’d made me feel meaningless and insignificant, and he never responded — signs of a rock-solid friendship foundation, right? Sure, let’s catch up sometime over coffee! This is some lifelong Beaches-level shit we have here. When we get the “BFF” necklace, which half do you want?
But it’s fine. (I know, “Say ‘fine’ again.”) I’ve gotten over worse. I’m GETTING over worse. This too shall pass, que sera sera… Your platitude here.
More importantly, I am far too awesome to be a Stage 5 Clinger. I’m not seeking friendship or anything else where it’s not wanted.
I saw this today on a friend’s Facebook, and I could certainly stand to give fewer fucks this year.
Go forth, and give fewer fucks!