Girl Scout's Honor

Guys--I really am okay. It was just a pity party, not a cry for help. I've gotten a few emails and phone calls from the last post (the only one that's ever inspired such a reaction) and I felt I needed to respond before my birthday party became an intervention. I was having one of those moments where I felt sorry for myself and I decided to write about it. I don't go around every day feeling sorry for myself or shitty about myself or full of resentment. I promise.
The truth of the matter is that it's hard for me to put myself out there. I don't like risk. I'm not good at it. And I did this time and I got burned. Because, somewhere along the line, I got it into my head that getting burned translates into severe embarrassment and stupidity on my part, I didn't tell anybody about what was going on. It's not because I think anybody would judge me (I mean, you let not one but TWO gay guys slide. Really, if there was ever a time to judge ... ).
Yes, the guy is still in my life. And yes, that causes me some concern. He knows that. Things are a little confused right now, but the truth of the matter is, I want him in my life right now. I don't know why. But I do. As a friend.
No, I am not waiting around for him. I don't know what the future holds, but what this whole experience has taught me is that that's okay. I tend to play my life like a chess game: I need to be two moves ahead of everybody else. And if you live your life like that, you never take any chances and you're left wondering what if. I didn't think with him. I just took a leap and hoped for the best. It didn't end the way I wanted it to, but what I got isn't bad: a friend who will talk me through my insecurities and support me through a crisis and make sure I'm laughing when I really should be crying.
So, in conclusion, thank you for worrying about me. But I'm okay. Girl Scout's Honor.

Pity, Party of One

It’s official.
With the friend who was single for so long we were wondering what the hell was going on there now “kinda, sorta dating somebody,” I am the very last one of my friends in the single column.
The very last one.
I know you’re thinking, “Oh, come on. Somebody’s got to be single.” And yes, I have some friends, like the one in Ireland, who’s not dating anybody (although I haven’t talked to her in a while and, at last count, four men were vying for her attentions). But, of the people I interact with every day, it’s me and a bunch of couples.
How the hell did that happen?
I haven’t talked about the asshole much here for a couple of reasons. One is that it was just too raw. He really hurt me in a way I haven’t been hurt in a while. Every time I tried to write about him, my funny, insightful anecdote turned into a whiny pity party and I do not want my blog to become a series of therapeutic diary entries. I have a separate diary for that.
But now I’m the only single girl. So let the pity party begin.
I can’t help but think that I spent five of the last six months believing that the asshole was going to come home and make good on the promises he was tossing out liberally every single day. And when I should have been dating people that actually gave a shit about me, who actually had intentions to be with me, I was waiting for somebody who, well I don’t know what the hell he was doing but he didn’t have intentions of being with me. He told me that himself. So it’s hard not to view that time as time wasted. And it’s hard for me not to feel like a fool for believing his lies.
Another reason that I haven’t written about him is that to write about him is to admit, to myself and to the very few people who know the back story, that he’s still in my life. I talk to the asshole just about every day. And that causes me huge issues. Because I feel like I’m setting myself up to be hurt again and I know I capitulated too easily after he hurt me so badly. I’m not sure even how we wound up being friends again. Except that, after telling me that he never had any intentions with me, he wouldn’t let me go and there’s only so many times a person can apologize before you either accept of feel like a heartless bitch. It’s kind of funny how that works.
But now, as I see the asshole’s the consistent man in my life and I look around and find myself in the land of the single, party of one, I’m starting to wonder if forgive and forget was the wisest policy decision. It’s not easy to feel full of forgiveness when I’m feeling like I’m playing the fool. In fact, the emotion I feel full of right now is resentment. I resent the time I spent with him before, I resent the time I’m spending with him now. I resent the way he made me feel like shit about myself, how I felt like the world’s biggest fool because of him, how I wonder all the time if I’m being the world’s biggest fool right now for still being in contact with him. I resent that I let him get away with not answering my questions. I resent that he wouldn’t answer my questions in the first place. I resent that I don’t know what he’s up to and I’m not sure what the hell’s going on or why he feels the need to have me in his life even though, walking contradiction that I am, I know that I would resent it if he cut me out of his life when the shit hit the fan two months ago.
Told you it was going to be a pity party.
But when all that resentment confetti hits the ground, and I’m alone to clean up the mess, I really have to point the finger at myself. Why do I set myself up to be hurt? Why did I care if he thought I was a bitch for not forgiving him for lying to me for five months? Why did I let him back in my life when he needed me instead of protecting myself? And, most importantly, why, now, can’t I let him go?

Beware of Co-Workers Bearing Gifts

As some of the regular readers of this blog may remember, I met AJ (the Key West Wonder) through a woman I work with. It was very much a left-field setup. We weren’t particularly friendly, so I never expected her to come out with, “let me introduce you to somebody.”
I’ve learned the lesson the hard way: beware of gifts that come from left-field.
I was out at a movie with my friend Keaton when he dropped this bomb on me. Keaton and I also work together, so naturally he knows the woman who set me up with AJ. He asked if I had spoken with the matchmaker lately (the matchmaker has since moved to another company). I said I hadn’t.
“You know, we were never really all that friendly to begin with. The whole setup thing was kind of weird,” I said, throwing a handful of popcorn into my mouth.
“I was just wondering how she was doing with the gay husband,” Keaton said.
“You’ve referenced that a couple of times recently, Keaton,” I said. “You know, he’s an actor. That doesn’t mean he’s gay. Plenty of actors are straight.”
Keaton looks at me funnily. “I’m pretty sure actors that look at gay porn on their home computers are gay, though.”
I choke on my popcorn. “Excuse me?”
“How do you not know this story?”
“I’m not sure. Did you ever tell me this story?”
Keaton thinks. “I thought I did. But maybe not.”
I’m getting impatient. “So you want to start telling me now?”
“Sure. One day she comes in all nuts and grabs Carl and says she needs coffee. And she proceeds to tell him that she just caught her husband looking at gay porn on the computer and is that normal?”
“I guess it’s better that she caught him rather than, oh, I don’t know, one of their two very young daughters. But holy shit.”
“I know. So Carl’s like, ‘Yeah, it’s normal. IF YOUR HUSBAND’S GAY. Other than that, not so normal.’”
“Oh my god.”
“I know, it’s horrible.”
“No, not that. I mean, yes it’s horrible. But I’m just remembering something.”
After emailing back and forth for about two weeks, AJ and I made plans to go for drinks. Since she was the force behind us getting together, I told the matchmaker that we were finally meeting face to face.
Instead of being happy, she got a little weird.
“I’ve been struggling with if I should have told you about this or not,” she said.
Oh jeez. “Tell me what?” I asked.
“Well, I didn’t know if I should mention something or not, and I keep going back and forth, but now that you’re meeting him, I guess I should say something.”
“What’s wrong? He’s not married, is he?”
“Oh, nothing like that. It’s just that, two years ago, he had [long dramatic pause inserted here] thyroid cancer. And I thought that he should tell you himself, but then I didn’t want you to think that I should have warned you.”
I’m stunned. Not that he had cancer, because I’m not a freak who somehow thinks cancer is catching. I’m stunned that she’s telling me this like it’s some big horrible secret. He had cancer. No big deal. Now if he had cancer and also a few rape convictions behind him, then that’s when I could understand the tone of this little speech. But this is just odd.
“Is he okay now?”
“Oh yeah. He’s fine now. I think he takes a pill every day because it’s affected his thyroid, but that’s it.”
I really don’t know what to say. I know what I want to say, which is “Seriously, lady, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Now, all of a sudden, the tone is flying back with me with a whole lot of sense behind me. Because I’m also remembering the time I met her husband, AJ’s best friend.
We went to the restaurant that the actor worked in (he’s not exactly a working actor. Much like, I’m finding out now, he might not exactly be a straight actor). It was the night of our first fight. I was out with him and my friend A and we decided to stop by the actor’s restaurant. A and I were introduced, then we were left to the bar to our own devices while AJ disappeared for a while. Kind of a long while. When he got back, he was incredibly nasty. He had never been like that before. After we walked Allison home, we would up having a huge fight on the street and I left in tears. I just couldn’t understand the sudden change in his behavior.
Now I found, I could.