Tuesday, March 29, 2011

If You Give A Mouse A Cookie...

Then you'll have to start carrying cookies with you everywhere you go just in case you see the mouse because now he has expectations.

The Scorpio and I had sex. It was unadventurous and I did not give it my best shot. Actually, I was kinda pissy the whole time. But he wouldn't allow that to deter him.

My problem? He now thinks that everytime we're in the same room together we're supposed to have sex. Or if we travel in the same vehicle and pass my house? He wonders why we didn't stop to get it on. Sunday, he informed me that it's been "so long" since he's had sex. It's been 11 days. Eleven. I feel like he needs to give the whining a break.

Yes, I know its my fault. And no, I have not told my therapist. But he's really killing me right now what with being so damned agreeable and attentive. I don't like it. If I start liking it then things will change and I don't want that.

I guess what I'm saying is that I like where our relationship is right now.

We can get together and do the mundane like shop for football cleats and computer software. We can have spirited arguments, like how Chris Brown could personally fund a battered woman's shelter and I STILL wouldn't let him play that son-of-a-bitch's CD in my car. We can laugh and joke and have lunch and be friends.

But sometimes, when he looks at me, I can tell he wants more than friendship. Other times, when he puts his hands on me, I am *sure* that he wants more than friendship. I've been completely honest with him and I believe that he knows where I stand but that doesn't mean he'll stop trying. Maybe I don't want him to stop trying? I'm not sure.

What I do know is that he wasn't *this* attentive when we were dating. I do like the attention but I don't like where it could lead. I have a well-known tendency to let the Scorpio to trample on my emotions. I will pat myself on the back and applaud my ability to keep my mother out of this whole thing. My stress levels are thanking me.

Anyways, that's what's going on there.

ohemgee! She's so cute! via Little Brownie Bakery's website

A hearty THANK YOU! to Mrs. G for saving Klea's life and giving me a sleeve of Thin Mints. She says that it's from the kindness of her heart but I'm sure there are other reasons. =)

Monday, March 21, 2011

I Scared Myself Straight

This weekend was cuh-razy!

So many things happened that could have been avoided but, true to form, I tackled them head on with my bow and arrow aimed for the gullet.

On Friday, I still hadn't found a way to be at peace with myself. I have a tendency to dwell on things and the episode with The Scorpio, blocking calls from my mother, dodging Averi, and not hearing from my brother were all weighing on me heavily. (Ethan is ok, I just haven't spoken to him in months. It makes me anxious).

I was driving along, minding the Mercedes in front of me. He was going 25 in a 40 and I had had enough. I waited my turn, put my blinker on, and changed lanes to the left all so he could cut me off and cross 3 lanes of traffic. I throw my hands up in the air, ask him what the fuck he's doing and glare in his direction. After he's made it from the middle right lane to the left-hand turn lane he glances into my car where I'm still scowling at him.

I drive another three lights and have managed to merge, with class and without incident, to the left turn lane. I've even turned by now. And I'm another two lights down this cross street when I hear someone yell into my car, "You got something you want to say to me?". I ignore it because I'm at the cool mall with the bus line and this won't be the first time I've been approached by riff-raff. But it's after he speaks again that I turn my head.

It's the Mercedes. I tell him to "...get away from me". There's no need for expletives in the first warning. He tells me that if I don't want trouble then I shouldn't do "that". Now I'm pissed. I roll the window all the way down and ask if he likes to teach lessons. I let him know that I'm a teacher too and if he doesn't have anything else to do on a Friday than to follow me around town, he can keep on because he'll get what he came for. He rolls his eyes and begins to mock me. I park the car and unbuckle my seat belt.

He doesn't know me. And I've forgotten who I am.

I reach around the back seat, grab my purse, and pull out the mace. I reach under the passenger seat and I'm getting the crowbar. It's when the car behind me honks that I remember who I really am and where I am. I'm ashamed of who I was about to become.

I was ten seconds away from becoming the girl that none of you know. The one who would never back down from a fight. The one who plans for the worst because she doesn't know that there's better. The girl who has all the wrong people on speed dial and makes sure you get that first, calm warning so that everything afterward can be justified.

I'm the girl who got into fights on the playground but had it excused because I got straight A's. The one who beat a freshman kid's ass in front of the Principal's office because he told everyone he had sex with my sister. I'm the one who walked back to her rapist's dorm with a gun. I'm the girl who left her drug dealing boyfriend but kept the inside contacts. I'm the girl who managed to do dirt but walk away with her hands clean.

I lived my life without fear. I didn't need to be afraid because I had nothing to live for.

This is where I should say that Jesus saved me but that would be a lie. Jesus didn't save me, love did.

Friday night I scared the shit out of myself because it occured to me that I was living like I had nothing to live for. And when you have nothing to live for you stop living. I don't want to lead a life where I merely exist.

But I've got to be my own hero because currently there's no one else here to save me.

Monday, March 14, 2011

I'm Not Being A Good Friend

He deserved better.

The Scorpio, I mean. He deserved so much better than I gave him this weekend.

Because for some reason, I was in one God-awful mood. And while he did his best to take it in stride, I did my absolute best immitation of a psychotic shrew.

I'm not gonna lie. In the land of blame, it's 20% his fault and only 80% mine.

It started on Wednesday when he asked me if I wanted to "hang out". I went to college. I had the experience. I know the boy definition of "hang out". And so I told him no. But that wasn't good enough. He pushed and pushed and pushed until I told him that I wouldn't be free until Saturday.

But he was soooo booooooored. Didn't I know that? I told him again that I was busy. And that was that. Until Friday night. He wanted to come over. And normally, I wouldn't have been opposed except I didn't want him over my dirty house, that was covered in dust and dog dander and I was wrapped in a blanket half asleep anyway.

But he wouldn't let it go. I said that we would be friends. And I said that we would hang out anytime either of us wanted. And I was being completely unfair to him right now. And please, please, pleeeeeeeeeease. He wasn't doing anything and I wasn't doing anything and we could just do nothing togeeeeetheeeeer.

First, I was peeved because he misquoted me. What I said was, "...either of us can call when we wanna hang out..." which in no way implies that you'll get a yes. And then I was upset because I had said no at least a dozen times. I hate to repeat myself. If I have to repeat myself it's because you're either A) not listening to what I say or B) don't care about what I want. Neither of which are acceptable.

I could hear my therapist telling me to stay strong and finally I just stopped responding to his messages. Then I vented on Facebook, deleted the entire string of messages, and digitally removed The Scorpio from my life. All of which made me feel loads better and I slept like a baby.

Saturday morning, I woke up before dawn and got more done before noon than I have since the first snow. I was so proud of myself; still am actually. I am addicted to telling all of my business and therefore made sure I tweeted the day's adventures non-stop. I had just taken a seat in my living room when The Scorpio texted me again.

What was I doing? Thinking about dinner. Did I want to go do something? Immediately, I responded with, "Are you asking me for sex?". To which he says that he wants to grab a bite to eat first and then maybe that. LOL. Hahaha. So muthasucking funny. I was all "Fine. Whatever you want." and was thinking "because it's ALWAYS about you! It's ALWAYS about what The Scorpio wants even though its the rest of us that have to do all the fucking work". I didn't say that because it's so mean. Even I know that!

And then seven minutes later, I told him that I wasn't in the mood to be anywhere near him if only because he pisses me off. He was completely confused. I got angrier. Why was he confused? Why should I do what he wants? I JUST WANT TO SHAVE MY LEGS! How dare he accuse me of reading too much into our friendship? Who the hell did he think he was? My house wasn't clean enough for guests! I told him that there was no decency in the way he was treating me because I am not a whore and will not be petitioned for sex! By text message no less!

You can see how none of that makes sense. Now that I've re-read it a dozen times, I can see why he was confused. Plus he pointed out that I was the one that mentioned sex therefore getting his hopes all up. And he really just wants to be friends if I'll let him. I calmed down enough to actually have a meal but I didn't get any saner nicer.

I might have told him that I didn't trust him. And I could have said that he needed the survey that comes on every dinner check more than I did. It is possible that I interrupted him while speaking a hundred or so times. Perhaps, there was a moment when my head spun 'round when he called me by his sister's name. Which, while in the midst of my fury, I accused him of having NO SISTERS AT ALL when I know full well that he has three and I'm super tight with one.  I absolutely told him to "pick a damned restaurant! [Because] I can't stand a man who won't make a decision!". I may have told him that sex with him was... *pause, pause, pause* "good?". Yes, three pauses. I thought he might die.

I cannot explain my behavior in any way. I was just suuuuuuuper bitchy. And he took it like a champ. Except for the third time he told me not to interrupt him anymore. He actually growled that through clenched teeth. And he asked me what the fuck my problem was when I made the check comment. He might have screamed out his sister's name is angst because I was yelling like a banshi and he said that it took him back to fights with her.

And then on the ride home he said, "Haha. Your car smells like food". And immediately, I was thanking him on complimenting my pina colada car freshener. I had looked so hard for one that was girly but not too overpowering. It's hard to find good, long-lasting car fresheners, ya know? For him to be all, "I said food. Not drinks". My face was so sad which inspired him to sing, "Payback is a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch".

I earned that one.

Friday, March 11, 2011

I'm A Little Out of Practice

I got drunk last night.

So very, very drunk.

If you follow me on Twitter, then 1. Yay! and 2. I'm sorry.

But the good news is that I'm not hungover! Which is a miracle in and of itself because I remember what I drank and it's just unpretty.

I knew that I was gonna get crazy but I had planned to save that for this evening. Instead, around 5:30 last night, with my long pants soaked up to my knees and snow flakes landing on my lapels, I decided that I would use the emergency money in my car to buy a fifth of tequila. I ran this crazy idea by Sam and Bailey's moms (Klea's playgroup) and Bailey's mom was all "That's a great idea! I'll drink it with you and then we can go to the bar!". Her words were like honey to my ears. She was even willing to drive.

Hello, Lover.
We washed down our curly fries with Senor Jose and then jumped in her vehicle and drove to our local pub. I warned my Tweeps (Twitter peeps) that it was about to go down and most of them were on board for the ride. What I hadn't considered was that I would start texting (then sexting *gasp!*) my "friend".

He and I have been together since 2005. It's an on-and-off friends with benefits relationship. Nobody knows we're friends and we like it that way. When we first started our relationship, I panicked to the brink of my sanity and told him that I needed rules. Just three.
  1. He can not ever tell me if he were sleeping with someone else at the same time. (That's just nasty and I would freak the eff out.)
  2. He can not get me pregnant.
  3. We can both call, and if desired, deny the request.
He looked at me, grinned, and said he had three rules of his own.
  1. I can never ask where he is or who he's with.
  2. I can never trick him into getting me pregnant.
  3. When I stop calling, I'm never to explain why.
I figured that was fair enough and an agreement was made. To be honest, I forget he's even there in the wings unless I'm drunk and boyfriendless. Which is where I found myself last night. The first text (around 8:00) said, "You know how I get when I'm drunk? Well, I'm drunk... and single!". To which he responded, "Oh, yeah? :)". I didn't even know he'd been sending me text messages all night. I was too busy being asked if I was "still a snug fit".

When I finally woke up it was only because he called me at 11:20. Who does that?

When I answered the phone at 11:20 the conversation went like this:
Me: Hello? (What he heard: hhhhhawwooo?)
Friend: It's me.
Me: Hmmm...
Friend: Am I coming over?
Me: No. I'm asleep!  (nonafeanvnaep vaijioapvehaui ahueapfne)
Friend: I can't understand you.
Me: Why would you call me this late? So rude! (famioemaoapvnaeun afhuean ehau pajfiejpahae)
Friend: Are you trying to see me or not?
Me: No. (No.)
*phone disconnects*

The next thing I knew it was four o' clock and I felt like someone had stuck me with an adrenaline needle. That's when I saw his final message from last night, sent around 11:30p.

"You are the only woman I know that can drunk text me at 8 and be passed out by 11".

I think he's starting to fall in love with me.

(photo Tequila Buzz. The review is absolutely hateful. True. But hateful nonetheless.)

Thursday, March 10, 2011

How Does That Make You Feel?

Pic via Life of a Fire Wife but obviously a Peanuts cartoon
Soooo, I'm back in therapy. And to be honest, I feel much, much better as a person. I had stopped going because when I told my family that I was in therapy what I heard in response was, "You're not crazy!", "You don't need therapy, you just need to relax", "I don't know, Dude. Therapy is for people that can't handle their own shit". So, I stopped. Against my therapist's (and my own) better judgment.

My life without therapy has sucked so hard that I can't describe it without vulgarity*. The worst part is that I began to believe that I should be able to handle all of the problems I was having without assistance. Well, I finally came to my senses and went back to see my therapist. You know its bad when you want to hug the one person in the world who's paid to judge because you feel like they're the only one not judging you.

I got her all caught up on the latest goings on. I told her about my Gramma, my mom, my girl scout cookies, about April and Rebecca, about Mr. T, about Little T, about the Scorpio, about all the babies, about the month of February and its significance and pretty much wept like a newly freed hostage. It felt good.

She gave me some guidelines for my life, which I need because I live for rules. She validated all of my feelings including the ones I've been told I'm not supposed (or allowed) to feel. And she has put herself in the position of being my scapegoat. If she were a man, I'd swear this was real love.

My rules:
  • No more baby showers - until she decides I'm ready. At this point, they're just unhealthy for me.
  • No holding other people's babies - until I decide I'm ready. Which will most likely occur when I have my own.
  • No more unreciprocated giving - with the exception being to charities. She feels like my inate desire to help is being taken advantage of by certain people in my life who feel like they're entitled to receive my help without respect for my schedule or limitations.
  • No more doing what other people want and/or expect - I'm to do what I want when I want provided I'm willing to accept the consequences of my actions. This is actually working out really well and has taken a load of stress off.
  • I must put myself first - It's the age-old argument that you're no good to anyone else if you're not taking care of yourself. So, I have to create my nest egg before I give anyone else financial help. I have to refuse to give someone a ride if I already have plans. I have to tell you to wait until Thursday for me to pick that thing up because that's when I'm next free and you just have to deal with that.
  • I must stop taking on other people's problems - She has recognized a tendency for me to cloak myself in other's issues and burdens and recommends that I tell them to get a therapist like I have.
  • I must be thankful for at least one thing everyday - Even if I make it up and it feels like a lie.
The good news is: I'm not crazy. Yes, I still have obsessive and addictive tendencies. Yes, I still judge myself and others too harshly. Yes, I still have underlying feelings of guilt for my accomplishments and achievements. I'm still stubborn, head-strong, and under value myself. But we'll deal with those things in time.

She's hoping that soon I'll allow her to venture into the realm of things I don't talk about. I admitted that the reason I stopped going to see her is because she was on to me. She's astute enough to notice that while I can (and will) talk for hours, I can (and will) talk to you about the most vacuous of topics and in the end have told you nothing at all. Now it's just a battle of the "will"s. Will I allow myself to be vulnerable and open up to her? Or will I hold myself hostage behind this gilded cage forever?

* It sucked harder than an 800-pound man trying to get oxygen after a full marathon. It sucked harder than a porn star with Hoover-type tendencies and no gag reflex. It sucked harder than your mom after a free meal at Red Lobster. (Bazinga!)

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

What's In a Name?

Editor's Note: I still don't feel like myself on most days. I'm slowly getting back to the place where I can enjoy life. With that being said, here's part two of Peter Pan's story.

Shakespeare once asked, "Whats in a name?". He wrote, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet". * He also penned more than a hundred phrases that still resonate to the core of our beings. Willie related the beauty of a woman to the brightness and glory of the sun. If it had been him that called me by the wrong name, I'd have been fine.

I only bring it up because Peter Pan called me by the wrong name. In a text message! Which we all know is his favorite method of communication.

It started out innocently enough. He wanted to say "Hey". But he didn't say just Hey. He said, "Hey JBard". I first brushed it off because C'mon! Right? It's just a typo. Damn You Auto Correct! But then he did it again and again.

It was only because he kept texting me that I finally called him. Well, that and his persistent texting caused me to have a caustic reaction in the ice cream aisle of my grocery store. Imagine standing in the frozen treats aisle debating with your partner over the benefits of getting the name brand ice cream on sale versus the store brand just because it's cheaper, when a crazy, overweight lady whose pocket keeps ringing bursts out with "Uuuuuuugggggghhhhhh! What the hell do you want?!?". That would freak you out, right? Well it freaked out the lady in the aisle with me so I totally rolled my eyes at her, snatched my phone from my pocket and dialed the mo.

He says, "Hey J-Beard"
Me: Hey
PP: I miss you
Me: That's weird. We don't even know each other well enough for that.
Because, really? People! It's been like 48, maybe 56, hours.

He proceeded to tell me that he wanted to know me. If I gave him a chance to know me that I wouldn't regret it. It was creepy. I told him that I had to go because I was busy and that I would call him when I wasn't busy. We hung up and... almost immediately... he texted me. Peter Pan wanted to know if our date for Wednesday was still on. Actually, he wanted to know "our meetin on wednesday cumin on".

Firstly, I was angry that he was even texting me because I know I just said I was busy before I hung up the damned phone. Secondly, why would he spell "come" like that! Ewah! Plus, he had spelled my name wrong... again. And had managed to say it wrong on the phone. Now, I'll give the pronunciation to the whole accent thing but I told him how to spell my name. He's just doing it on purpose at this point.

When he asked me to meet him at 7p on Wednesday, I told him that I wasn't going anywhere with someone who didn't know my name. He acted all confused and wrote, "Am sorry just shorten your name". And then proceeded without shame to say, "I want us meet where u wil feel comfortable there is a bar in de mall I would like us meet over there if it is ok wit u If u have a place in mind u can out wit it".

My head almost exploded in grammatical anger.

Then he asked me if I was still busy. Like 20 seconds after that written assault on the English language. By now I'm all over Facebook with the ridiculousness of this whole tale because how can you spell and say my name wrong then think that we're still on for a date? How! I've also let Av know that her crime will not go unpunished and I can only think of one way for her to make penance: free beers.

I tell him yes, that I'm busy and then I proceed to spell my full name. J-B-I-R-D. I tell him that calling me JBeard or JBard is not the same and that he needs to stop. Now. That it's really starting to piss me off. He apologizes and then says that he'll explain it to me when we meet and wants to know if I'm driving or if he's picking me up. I'm all "No. You'll explain it to me now".

And then he tells me that he has a cousin named Joyous Beardlandia and they call her J-Beard for short. And because my name is J Hypen Bird and the two names are so similar he thought that I'd go by J-Beard also. Am I ok now? Do I understand? Problem is not only do I *not* understand but I lose my shit!

I tell him that I don't believe him. How can it be that he calls me the wrong name by TEXT? He had to spell it out AFTER I had spelled it out.

He wanted me to explain why I think he would lie to me. What would he gain? He was even willing to show me her picture when the time was right. I had pierced his little, African soul with my distrust. I didn't even know him. Peter Pan assured me that he would never lie to me for any reason. Was I clear now?

All I had for him was, "Yeah, well, it hurts when someone can't get your name right".

He plead his case all night. And I ignored him until the sun came up and he texted me, "Gudmornin JBurn n have a guday at wk".

In my best angry text font I told him that he was just doing it on purpose now, spelling my name wrong. And that it was mean and hurtful. Peter Pan was told not to call or text me anymore. Wednesday was off and I wasn't interested.

Willie asked what's in a name. But the truth is he already knew. Names, love them or hate them, make up who we are at our core. To ignore that is to ignore our greatest self. And there's no way I'm going to let some punk with an accent and a mommy complex do that to me.

*from Romeo and Juliet

Monday, March 7, 2011

Is Forgiveness Appropriate Here?

The Scorpio and I had dinner on Friday. What's important to note is that I didn't kill him. What's second to that is that I actually laughed with him. What's tearing me up inside is that I'm ready to forgive him.

If you don't know the chapter of my life that is the Scorpio Saga then I'm sorry but I'm not going to recount it here. You can read this post again but I don't know if that would help because there was a major fall out in the summer to which he claims to have no recollection. That is why this man drives me nuts.

He can be acutely aware that I'm angry but still hasn't accepted that I'm a champion grudge holder. He thought that because I yelled at him in June that I was totally over it now. But I told him that there was no way he was getting off that easy. Some of the things he said to me were over-the-top and utterly ridiculous.

To which he said he was sorry. He admitted that he was an asshole and he didn't realize how much until after I broke up with him. He said he wants to earn back the level of trust I had in him when we were first together. How can you be mad at that? Well, how can I be mad at that?

We sat in hard, wooden chairs for more than three hours and just talked. I felt like I was getting to know who he was for the first time in all the years we've known each other. And it was... nice.

The atmosphere was relaxed. We mixed jokes with more serious conversation and laid out all of our concerns on the table. There were tales of our relationship past that we each remembered differently. Apparently, I was so tired one night that, when he tried to initiate sex, I told him, "Do what you want. I'm going to sleep". Which sounds exactly like something I would say.

We talked about the break up and it seems we both feel like we broke up at different times. I feel like it was the day I told him that I couldn't date him anymore because he was a mooch that wanted me to rent a car for him and his friends to drive to Tennessee. But we did sleep together for an entire winter after that. And he might have seen me with someone else and been outraged that I would cheat on him! But I didn't think I was cheating because I thought I had broken up with him hence my nonchalant attitude.

He thinks the day we broke up was the day we sat in my car and I told him that we were only going to be friends from that point on. The Scorpio even broke down what I was wearing and how my hair looked. He says that I cried and I did. I remember that night. I cried because I wanted him to have a reaction and instead he just stared out the windshield and (after a prolonged silence) said "What if that's not what I want". To which I responded that he didn't have a choice because I was seeing someone else and I wasn't going to cheat on that guy with him. So, he got out of the car and we didn't talk again until last April. Even when we saw each other out at the same place, we'd just nod and move on.

I don't know how to explain all of this except to say that I miss him. I really, truly miss having him around. He's the only person I know that will let me snuggle with him, drool on him and snore loudly without complaining. He's always ready to go out and have fun and he dresses me better than any of my gay friends ever could. You can't buy that in a store.

I guess what I'm saying is: "Sometimes you forgive people simply because you want them in your life." - The Noteboook. It's not the most profound thing I've ever read but it is simple enough to be true. And it totally allows me to justify my feelings. That'll have to work.
Related Posts with Thumbnails