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So I did it. I put my feelings out there for him just as a FYI so he would know. I told him and it went exactly how I thought it would. My own intuition scares me sometimes. It’s funny, isn’t it? In the beginning, I figured this would happen. For a fleeting moment, I thought “This will be like Mr. (former) Anti-Committment; he chases after you, you’re half-interested. But in the end, the situation is swapped and you always get hurt.” Oh, how I need to learn.
He was supposed to be different. And he is. But when it comes down to it all, I guess all guys are the same; this one just executed it differently. Surprisingly, I’m not angry at him. I have no regrets, strangely enough. More than anything, it set a hard reminder to myself that I’m better off on my own. I should have listened to my friend when he said, “If there was no talk about the future, there is none. Leave it.” I apparently need to start listening to him more.
The last time I felt like this was during the Mr. Co-worker situation in the beginning of the year. That one, I was stupid. This one, I wasn’t. Pen IS different. I’m not making excuses for him but I should have known his “casual” isn’t very casual. He’s never done this before. I should have known better. He didn’t run away from the conversation, however, and we remain good friends. But it still hurts a hell of a lot. It’s so strange. He did everything he was supposed to with respecting me. He did what I hope every guy will treat me like: buys dinner, holds me, makes sure I’m okay, talks to me. I told him in the future, if he ever does the casual thing again, he should probably stay away from cuddling, no matter how innocent it is. Maybe the other way is really easier. It’s harsher and a quick band-aid rip. Pen’s way drew me in and then I forgot reality sometimes. Hilarious that I was worried about hurting him in the beginning.
I’m not sorry for my feelings. I’m not sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up sooner; I’m sorry I was stupid enough to think he actually cared for me beyond all this. And yes, we’re friends, so he does care for me, but not in the way I thought he did. Is it always going to be like this? I don’t believe in The One, but I don’t believe that this is my life or my future. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to NY. I was fine before it; could have left it or taken it. But I can’t even say that I regret NY. I took a chance.
A lot of our convo seemed to be him commenting on how brave I was b/c when taking such giant risks like this, you have the courage to handle it when it goes wrong. Am I brave? I don’t feel it. I feel weak for having landed here, half in love with this guy that I thought would change everything. But maybe that’s just it. I do better when I’m on my own. I accomplish more on my own. I find my own happiness. That’s been my motto for a long time and I need to remember that. I’m going to climb Kili alone and I’m going to keep pushing forward, focusing on me. No more distractions, no more guys, no more swooning. Just Jane.
So I did it. I put my feelings out there for him just as a FYI so he would know. I told him and it went exactly how I thought it would. My own intuition scares me sometimes. It’s funny, isn’t it? For a fleeting moment, I thought “This will be like Mr. (former) Anti-Committment; he chases after you, you’re half-interested. But in the end, the situation is swapped and you always get hurt.” Oh, how I need to learn.
He was supposed to be different. And he is. But when it comes down to it all, I guess all guys are the same; this one just executed it differently. Surprisingly, I’m not angry at him. I have no regrets, strangely enough. More than anything, it set a hard reminder to myself that I’m better off on my own. I should have listened to my friend when he said, “If there was no talk about the future, there is none. Leave it.” I apparently need to start listening to him more.
The last time I felt like this was during the Mr. Co-worker situation in the beginning of the year. That one, I was stupid. This one, I wasn’t. Pen IS different. I’m not making excuses for him but I should have known his “casual” isn’t very casual. He’s never done this before. I should have known better. He didn’t run away from the conversation, however, and we remain good friends. But it still hurts a hell of a lot. It’s so strange. He did everything he was supposed to with respecting me. He did what I hope every guy will treat me like: buys dinner, holds me, makes sure I’m okay, talks to me. I told him in the future, if he ever does the casual thing again, he should probably stay away from cuddling, no matter how innocent it is. Maybe the other way is really easier. It’s harsher and a quick band-aid rip. Pen’s way drew me in and then I forgot reality sometimes. Hilarious that I was worried about hurting him in the beginning.
I’m not sorry for my feelings. I’m not sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up sooner; I’m sorry I was stupid enough to think he actually cared for me beyond all this. And yes, we’re friends, so he does care for me, but not in the way I thought he did. Is it always going to be like this? I don’t believe in The One, but I don’t believe that this is my life or my future. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to NY. I was fine before it; could have left it or taken it. But I can’t even say that I regret NY. I took a chance.
I don’t hate him; we remain very close friends. In fact, it was probably the most mature adult conversation I’ve had about this kind of stuff. I can’t even breath the usual words “jerk” or “asshole” or “spineless” in the same sentence because he’s not.
A lot of our convo seemed to be him commenting on how brave I was because when taking such giant risks like this, you have the courage to handle it if it goes wrong. Am I brave? I don’t feel it. I feel weak for having landed here, half in love with this guy that I thought would change everything. But maybe that’s just it. I do better when I’m on my own. I accomplish more on my own. I find my own happiness. That’s been my motto for a long time and I need to remember that. I’m going to climb Kili alone and I’m going to keep pushing forward, focusing on me. No more distractions, no more guys, no more swooning.
Just Jane.
He’s finally engaged.
I have a variety of emotions thrown at me when I find out. Part of the chaos is from just getting off the phone with Pen (see previous entry; more on this later). Part of me is stunned. I knew it would happen sometime and soon, but it still stung a tiny bit. We had plans to get dinner and catch up when I was in St. Louis, but he chickened out via text message (although it was his idea). I called him on it and we never spoke again.
He is, for me, what I am to Pen. That #2 in your life that liberates you of what you thought was the norm and showing the way things could be. He was the one that showed me all the physical stuff didn’t have to be used as a tool for manipulation or lies or control. It could be fun and something I could own for myself.
The tiny tick that hurts is that I was never good enough for him to commit, but like Mel told me, “Sometimes I think we’re all girl scouts and instead of ‘leaving our campsites cleaner than when we found them,’ we leave our men better than when we found them. We help them understand women better and, in some cases, understand themselves. And what thanks do we get? They find great relationships after they’re done with us.”
The truth is, as much as he hurt me, he also contributed to making me who I am now. Despite the last year being rough, I AM pretty proud of how far I’ve come. And as one man walks permanently out of my life, another steps in.
As hard as I’ve tried to follow the 2-day rule, I’ve found that my mind still wanders to another man, Pen (see previous entry). He actually calls. So I may have told him straight up he better keep in touch, even if it as only friends or I wouldn’t let him kiss me. It’s a first and I’m unsure how to handle a guy who treats me the way he does. But it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? This is the way it’s supposed to be. I shouldn’t be so in awe of these actions. But the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I wasn’t being swept up by all the niceness. There’s been plenty of nice guys that I wasn’t attracted to and I promised to never settle even when I was lonely.
So what does this mean? I have an opportunity to go visit NYC for Labor Day due to a possible free mileage ticket. I have possibly one day off I can squeeze out of work. I have 50+ friends I need to see there, but I think I would be very happy staying in with him all weekend. That terrifies me. This entire situation freaks me out. I lose my cool when I’m around him, chatting nervously like a little bird to fill up the silences that I’m not used to yet. When he says nothing and just looks at me, I get butterflies and have to blink away because his gaze is so penetrating.
He frustrates me often with his stupid simple man logic (“Wait, why are you complaining about the lack of women boots? You just said there were so many options when you walked in!”) and he likes the wrong sports teams. He goes to bed at midnight and gets up at 7am daily while I find my best energy late at night. Yet, I still want to keep him around to see where it’s going.
Going to NY signifies so much more than just a fun jaunt to the city. After New Orleans, St. Louis and Austin, it’s another home although I never lived there. Going there when I could be going somewhere new (and with Africa soon after) is a giant step. On paper, it’s a horrible idea. Why get attached? Whey get more involved when this is clearly going nowhere with the distance? Like Kilimanjaro, there’s 1000 reasons not to do it and only a handful of good ones. But oh, are those handful really good ones! I promised I would stay open to the possibilities, but not pursue actively. Getting on that plane is breaking all the rules.
Logic or heart? Which?!
Summer: Ok. I, like being on my own. I think relationships are messy and people’s feelings get hurt. Who needs it? We’re young, we live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world; might as well have fun while we can and, save the serious stuff for later.
McKenzie: You’re a dude. [to Tom] She’s a dude!
Tom: Ok but wait–wait. What happens, if you fall in love?
Tom: What?
Summer: You don’t believe that, do you?
Tom: It’s love, it’s not Santa Claus.
Arthur Abbott: Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend.
Iris: You’re so right. You’re supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for god’s sake!
- The Holiday
My good friend Roseanne recently told me she was diagnosed with HPV a few years ago. She got it from her ex (and only partner) and it wasn’t the easy curable type, but the kind that could turn into cancer (or just fade away on its own). So she started running and eating healthy to get her body in the best shape to fight it off.
And that got me thinking about how I’ve worked really hard the last 7 years at being single and being the strongest person I can be on my own. I attack hobbies, throw myself into everything and push myself to go beyond my comfort zone– all in hopes that when I get hurt again, I’ll be in the best emotional state to fight it off and not fall down again.
But it doesn’t really work that way, does it? Things never really get easier, things never really change. No matter how strong I am, no matter how many hobbies I surround myself with, I still get hurt. My reactions and experiences may not be as shattering as they used to because of the padding I’ve surrounded myself with, but when someone shuts you down, it still feels like a punch to the gut.
I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn’t know you had inside you. And it doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends… you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he’ll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you’ll go somewhere new. And you’ll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.
- Iris, The Holiday
I’ve never been great at staying mad for long. I may have a spectacular memory for events, incidents and fights, but I more often than not forgive the offending party and move on (indicated by how friendly I remain with exes, ex-flings, ex-crushes).
One thing I never have accomplished, however, is forgiving myself. More than enough times, friends have commented, “You’re too hard on yourself” and then shake their head and wish I would ease up. Even my parents have relayed their worries that I put too much unnecessary pressure on myself.
In regards to my career and successes, that may never change and I’m okay with that. With relationships and my personal life, it needs to change. As I’ve mentioned before, I was in an emotionally abusive on-and-off again relationship/friendship with an ex-boyfriend that spanned 6-something years. Although I’ve moved on from him and have started a new phase in my life, I’ve realized lately I haven’t gotten over the effects.
A year ago exactly this week is when I finally decided to move out of the emotional turmoil that had been St. Louis. And since then, I’ve been on an exhausting and enthralling adventure to really live my life. If I got a chance to travel, I took it. If there was a guy I felt a connection with, I put myself out there. If there was anything new worth trying (or even not worth trying), I signed up. If you asked me if I could be living life any differently, I would be confident in my answer that I’m living life just the way I should be.
But the anxiety doesn’t leave. I still haven’t forgiven myself for all the time wasted on him. And even though I fought back, I always ended up back in the vicious cycle that is abuse and feeling weak. Of course he’s at fault, but I feel like I knew better. I was never blind to the crap or the hurt or the abuse (although it took me years to finally put a name to it). So in some twisted way, all this carpe diem mentality is an attempt to make up for all the lost time because I just can’t seem to let it go that I put myself through that for so long.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s been exciting and fun and scary and memorable, but also incredibly exhausting. When I have a span of time that I’m not “grabbing life by the horns,” I feel guilt that I’m wasting time again, especially because I’m so young. So many people have told me that the fact I’m no longer around or with him is all the success I need, but each time I stumble a little and find myself hurting over a jerk, I return to being mad at myself for falling back. Not that all men will be abusive, of course, but apparently going through one horrible one doesn’t make it easier to run from the other jerks.
I’m not sure how to ease up on myself or this self-imposed pressure. More importantly, I clueless at how to forgive myself the way I forgive the ones that have hurt me.
What is it about jerks that makes them hard to get over? Or stop thinking about? Is it is because we are SO confused by how one person can be such an asshole that we hold onto some naive hope they’ll prove otherwise? Is the rule that the jerkier they are, the harder it is to move on? Common sense and logic says it should be easier, a clean cut, a head held high movement that tells your feet to walk out. But it never seems to work that way.
The jerks seem to be the hardest heartbreak (for me, anyway). Maybe most of it is anger at myself for ignoring the signs or for making such poor judgement or stupidly thinking he was a good guy. It’s some innate desire to not be wrong when he proves to be THAT guy, even when you’ve sworn you were no longer going to ever date THAT type of guy again.
So I beat a dead horse again and again. Revive it, just to beat it down some more. Each time I think I can’t be hurt even more than I have in the past, I somehow manage to stumble another man that manages do just that. Of course there are good guys out there, but apparently I seem to keep on attracting the bad ones.
I’m not asking for much. I’m not even looking for a boyfriend. Just nice guys that I have a connection that I can get to know better, platonic of otherwise. I’m a low-maitnenced girl. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I need to start asking for more, demanding more respect.
Does it ever get easier?
It’s been awhile since I’ve felt so down about a guy. I mean, really down. Like truly bummed and sad.
Despite looking fabulous in my little green party dress for the office holiday shindig and hooking up with Mr. Co-Worker, I still got the short end of the stick. I’ll spare y’all the details of the drama with his crazy– like she’s off her rocker– date who is now threatening him (to make a long story short). Because at the deep down grittiness of it, we can only be friends. Whether or not there’s a work policy against it and I’m pretty sure there’s not, he just needs time and space to deal with Crazy Girl and working together doesn’t help the situation.
There were too many awkward elevator moments with co-workers asking him in the guy-talk way how things went with hot Crazy Girl (while I stood there) and I didn’t want to play games and give him the cold shoulder. So I took the initiative and sent him a funny witty email about avoiding future awkward moments in enclosed spaces and breaking all “hurt girl” rules and going for a drink after work.
And we did and we talked and I was honest. Very honest, even after finding out that Crazy Girl is, well, crazy. And he was honest. Obviously, I’m leaving out a LOT of the details, but it is what it is. “Don’t sh-t where you eat” and all that nonsense, so no matter how strong the chemistry is (I think he likes me? There was never confirmation), I’m now stuck with just occasionally glancing at him when I look up and the few lunch gatherings with others.
Ugh, this one hurts. Bad. I really like this one. We had so much in common, more than any guy I’ve met (we both want to quit our jobs and travel the world; get the same random injuries like pinched nerves and sliced fingertips and remain ridiculously close to our childhood friends). And of course, there will be others and all that talk, but for now, I just want to mope and be heartachey about this one.
This is making me not want a relationship even more. Too draining!
One of my first friends here was a guy named Greg, a tall, incredibly attractive laid-back guy. He was friendly, open to introducing me to people, taking me partying and helping me adjust to my new life in Austin. We even discussed working on some freelance projects together. Then, out of the blue, he started snapping at me when we were competition in Houston a few weeks ago. Confused and upset, I suddenly felt like I was back in the years with my on-and-off again ex. Not a good feeling. His tone of voice, his comments and look on his face were so similar that I froze up and didn’t speak to him for awhile.
While trying to put my feelings into words in one of my self-over-analyzation sessions, I came to a startling realization. Those 6-7 years of really f-ed up relationship/friendship/co-dependency was considered emotionally abusive. All this time, I had never put words to the situation. I wasn’t blind to the fact it wasn’t right and the whole situation was a bad habit. But like any of those draining relationships, I was so used the horrible ache in my chest that I couldn’t imagine life without it, no matter how much I wanted it gone.
Then I went through a wide range of emotions from anger to embarrassment to shock and relief. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was being dramatic. But the more I thought about it, the more I remembered all the instances he was cruel to me with biting remarks that left me insecure and cut-down to nothing. Comments about what I was wearing (I didn’t dress like a real girl until recently and it continues to be a struggle since I have no fashion sense), about any guy I was hanging around with that he didn’t know (I’ll spare y’all the harsh wording), etc, etc.
He was my best friend and in the beginning, we were attached at the hip and told each other everything while laying in a hammock under the stars. But that’s what those kind of relationships are like, right? Filled with amazing memories of things being SO good that it hides the crap underneath.
A large part of this revelation is feeling stupid for not seeing it as emotional abuse earlier. But, as hard as that is to come in terms with, I know, without a doubt, that I’m stronger now for getting myself over that and starting new.
So when Greg spoke to me like that, it hit a nerve. And it’s happened a few more times since (mixed in with super friendly instances – why are guy so bipolar?). I let it pass the first few time due to the stress and exhaustion of the competition weekend and backed off quickly from our friendship. But when it happened a few more times this weekend, I had to rethink a lot of issues and considered confronting him. His attacks and criticisms were so hostile and personal, as if my very personality and being offended him. And it’s JUST towards me; he’s his famous friendly self to all others.
A mutual friend thinks he misunderstood my friendliness and eagerness as liking him romantically and having a lot of girls after him often leaves him unsure how to handle them (he IS a bit vain). So what now? It’s in my nature to have the conversation, but my friend talks haven’t gone well lately and any discussion around feelings (even if non-existent) is incredibly awkward, especially with a new friend.
Whatever the outcome is, I’m strangely relieved to understand the past better now and hope I will continually remember so I can keep my head up now and in the future.
***This is my one and only mention about tomorrow’s big historical election:
I’ve never been big into politics. It’s never really interested me, even when my closets friends worked in campaigns and could lecture for hours on their views. This election, of course, is different. Either way, history is made and no matter what party you vote for, it’s an exciting time. Growing up in a very Republican Louisiana, attending the formative college years in swing-state Missouri (where I voted absentee) and now residing in a very liberal city (Austin) in a strong red state (TX) has definitely given me perspective. I wish I could say I understood the issues more, but I do know enough to stand strongly for Obama. It’s not that I consider myself affiliated with one party or another, but I’m more sure than ever, it’s time for a change and I think he’s the one to do that. That, and Palin terrifies me a bit.
What baffles me are people my age and generation who aren’t registered to vote, especially for this election. Today, I was talking to a friend and found out she wasn’t registered or even understood that it was a 5 minute process. So please, if you don’t know, ask or read or google! In the age of the internet, knowledge is so readily available to eliminate ignorance.
For awhile, I wondered if the day would ever come. Deep down, I knew it had to because I simply couldn’t live like this forever. After 5 long years of feeling this ache and weight in my chest, I realized one day I was over it. 5 years sounds absurd so I won’t bother explaining the histrionics behind it other than, it’s finally out of my system.
I fell out of love with him years ago and was stupidly holding on to some idealistic version that had captured me when we first met. It wasn’t a normal relationship or friendship; it’s one of those messed up kinds that no one outside ever understands until you’re sucked into one yourself. Some days, you experience every emotion in the book and it’ll only be noon. The pathetic factor is that I was well aware of the situation and the reality of its bad effects on my life; I wasn’t blind to the fact he was using me or only there when it was good for him.
I grew up always saying, “I’ll never be one of those girls that lets a guy treat her badly. I’ll leave in a second, end it, cut it out and walk away with my head held high.” But when it comes down to it and it’s this horrible habit of feeling this way all the time, it just becomes easier to go each day. When things were good, they were amazing, but when things were bad, it was rock bottom. I’m not proud of all the time wasted on him, but I also don’t regret the events that got me to who I am right now.
I never thought we would actually drift away from each other, but I remember writing once, “If I ever truly let go, our friendship would be over. And deep down, he knows that.” He feared it and still does. We used to see or talk to each other every day for the first four years, sneak off to lounge in the hammocks in the warm spring nights and talk about anything and everything over a late night greasy appetizer. He was different back then too. Eventually, the bad times weighed heavier than the good and through all the nights of crying and fighting, I subconsciously started pulling myself together and finding what made me happy.
And then one day a few months ago, I actually followed the old cliché: I woke up and suddenly realized I had finally reached apathy. No more hatred, anger, “love,” pity, or sadness. Just apathy! Ever since I was a kid, my mother would say that I had a fire in my belly; someone later said it was a good thing because it comes out in both anger and passion. So reaching apathy is big. A friend asked what the moment felt like and truthfully, kinda anti-climatic. Actually, I think it’s all hitting me at this exact moment because I suddenly feel like bursting out crying at the sheer meaning of it all (shaddup, I’m PMSing).
We had dinner tonight after not seeing each other for a month and it was slightly awkward, which it never is. I could tell he felt the shift due to his tapping leg and his increasing curiosity about why I seemed so blasé. And I didn’t care what he felt or thought. A tiny part of me misses him, but I think it’s the part that misses being 18. It’s tough falling in love with your best friend, dating him, getting dumped and watching him date your friends. Ah, I’m stupid. I definitely don’t miss the emotions at that age.
But it’s in the past now and I’m looking forward to my very bright future. Hm, 2008 and the upcoming 25th year might be just my thing.
(And that’s why I hold fast to being single and its awesomeness).
