Tuesday, August 2, 2011

I Shouldn't Be Allowed to Use Dating Sites, Ever

First, let me get this out of the way.  Fucking.  Ow.  I'll come back to that later.

Second, I spend way too much time on Facebook.  I mean, that's not new information.  But when someone I once knew from school suddenly gets on board with the social networking empire, Facebook feels the need to tell me that this person is now friends with 8 of my friends.  Or 17 of my friends.  It's saying to me, "Look who finally decided to buy a computer!  Don't you want to be friends with them?"  And I'm like, "No, because if I cared enough about them to have online contact with them now, I'd have kept in touch with them all these years.  Also, why are they only now buying a computer?  It's 2011."  If you don't understand my selectivity in "friending" on Facebook, read this

Okay, so back to the first thing.  Pilot Guy is finito.  I think.  I'm pretty sure.  Not dead, I didn't kill him.  Maybe I should have, then I'd have saved myself a whole lot of trouble.  Anyway, after what I am certain was him reading yesterday's blog post, he sent me a message that said,

I think what we want is too different for it to work.  I hope you find what you're looking for. 

I didn't use quotes because I didn't copy and paste, so it's not technically a quote.  That's the gist, though.  Although logic leads me to believe that he perhaps misunderstood what yesterday's blog was saying - that I WANT to be able to date casually and not be all worried about what's going to happen in the future - not that I WANT him to be my boyfriend immediately or that I think he's my boyfriend ALREADY.  I'm not that delusional.  I was sort of hoping he'd give me a chance to practice my casual dating skills, but I guess not.  It's really too bad, though, because I pretty much thought he was great.  But now that I think about it I don't think he thinks I'm as funny as I think I am.  And illogically, I'm going to bet that there were other things he didn't like about me...

Lots of physical stuff - I'm not skinny, per say.  I'm definitely not fat, though.  And I am aware that I could be totally hot if I lost about 20lbs.  Toned up.  I have stretch marks.  The worst ones are on my lower back.  I think that's from a growth spurt in high school because that's how long I've had them.  They're like right on the love-handles though, so it looks like I had a sudden spurt of fat there.  All my tattoos are faded and kind of crappy.  I had a huge zit on the back of my arm, and was recovering from a breakout or several on my face.  My skin is really not great.  Lots of moles.  Big pores on my face.  Some goofy skin issue on the backs of my arms which regular scrubbing and lotioning keeps at bay for the most part.  He might have been disgusted because I don't shower every day.  But I do shower every other day, and even more often when I know I have to see other humans besides my roommates.  I also brush my teeth mostly just in the morning, because I'm already exhausted with all the other stupid-ass getting-ready-for-bed shit my routine entails.  I've been trying to brush them at night too, because I just made a dentist appointment for the first time in years.  This is all just a short, sort of abridged version of all the stuff I don't like about myself physically, which in my opinion prevent me from being beautiful according to my definition of the word.  Maybe I talked too much.  Maybe I laughed at my own jokes too much.  Maybe I tried too hard to compensate for the fact that I am humongously insecure about myself and have very little self-confidence by being overly egotistical.  I don't think you're supposed to tell people how awesome you are, you're just supposed to be awesome. 

I thought really intensely about how I wanted to handle this in my writing, because I know he's read my blog before, and I kind of assume that he might again so I have to be prepared for that.  This motherfucking blog is a double-edged sword.  It's therapeutic and insanely helpful for me and my battle with mental illness, but it's really fucking up my dating life - if what I have can be called that.

Tiffany says to just calm the fuck down because it was just two dates.  But the issue I take with that logic is that they were two long-ass dates.  That extended into the next day.  If they were like a couple of one or two hour dates, I could see her telling me to relax, but I ended up spending over 24 hours with this person, in a matter of a week!  I don't spend that much time with ANYONE else on this planet in a week, besides Phoenix.  I don't count people at work because I am not like sitting there, next to someone, chatting with them for the entire 9.5 hours I'm at work.  There are very, very few people I can stand to spend that much time with, especially in big chunks like that.  So Tiff, maybe that's why I'm more upset than I should be.

I'm going back and forth between the want of the need for independence and freedom from a relationship, and the terror of never finding what I want.  I'm also beginning to question just how awesome I actually think that I am.  I've really grown to love myself and I really don't think about my perceived flaws or shortcomings that often anymore.  I can prove it - just read the last month's worth of blogs and count how often I'm down on myself for whatever.  But rejection does a fucking number on me.  It makes me question EVERYTHING.  And I find that incredibly unfair.  I try really hard to remind myself of Eleanor Roosevelt's quote, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  I find it to be very, very relevant to my life because of how often I let people make me feel extremely small, and how often I let them.

So yeah, I'm upset.  I don't really feel like I got enough of a chance.  I pretty much feel like I've been punched in my stomach, and I'm not exaggerating.  It's just a real crappy feeling.  I've also been on the verge of tears since I got the message, but I haven't cried.  I'm not sure whether or not I'm going to let myself cry.  I've cried a hundred thousand tears over guys and it's so worthless.  But maybe the punched-in-the-stomach feeling would go away if I cried.  Or ate.  I haven't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.  No appetite.  Either way, I'm definitely still upset.  And I think it's okay for me to be upset, so long as it doesn't extend past tonight.  Again, that would be worthless.  Plus I need to start mentally preparing for my trip and whatever emotional stressors that may put on me.  If any.  And I need to pack.  And figure out how to fit all my belongings for like 5 days in a container small enough for carry-on because I am not paying 50 fucking dollars to have the plane carry my bag in a storage area underneath the plane when I've already paid 250 fucking dollars for the ticket.  Is there beverage service down there?  Is the in-flight entertainment down there premium movie channels?  What is so special about it that I should pay MORE THAN I PAY FOR CABLE in a FUCKING MONTH so that an inanimate object can move across the country WITH ME?

Sorry for yelling.  That was a little like tourette's.  But I've been knocked down a couple of pegs.  I am actually deflating as the day progresses.  I need a vacation.  I may take some of the extra money I have from the grants I'm getting for the fall for a solo trip to Mexico for a few days.

No comments:

Post a Comment