Ok. I've said in the past that I'm pretty fucked up. Years ago I've said why I feel that way and some of the things that contributed to it but I've never told the full story. Today will be no different.
However. Tonight I realized just how utterly fucked up I am. When I talk about having a 'fatal flaw' or some inherent 'wrongness', it is there. It is not imagined. In truth, I believe it comes from what I went through as a child. Logically I understand that I lack certain coping skills and mechanisms of proper interaction because of it, but as an adult, no therapist I've worked with has ever been able to help me with it. Probably because I've skirted the issue or just outright given them the answers I knew they wanted to hear. Of course, in the end, they carry on, it's me that has a horrible time in my own head. Guess I showed them. Ahem. But really, WHO wants to admit that there is something really wrong with them? And fuck them for not realizing the front I put up!
About a week ago I was tagged on Facebook in a photo from high school along with several others. One guy really liked me and even at that time, I didn't know what to do with that. Of course, being 17 and focusing on college didn't help. Well, that and the off-kilter brain patterns. Anyway. So we start chatting on the dreaded Facebook once we were both tagged in this photo and we really hadn't talked since 1988 - that's a lot of years! But he was still determined to go out with me. I agreed.
Long story short, we went out to dinner tonight. He is totally opposite of me. Like, in every way. Republican vs Democrat, Conservative vs Liberal, Country music vs Hell no, Gun toting vs Please don't ask my history revolving around guns, Ford vs import, allergic to cats vs cat-owner, Church-goer vs heathen, Hiker/Camper vs OMG a spider!... oh, the list just goes on. But it's just dinner and he's always been a nice guy. I figure if Mary Matalin and James Carville can be married, then I can at least have DINNER with the guy! (Look it up.)
He's four months younger than me, has a steady, secure job, is kind and considerate, and really, it was great spending time with him. I'm sure if you've ever read anything I've ever written, you know this is where things bunch up like underwear in your asscrack.
So after dinner at my car (we met at the restaurant - being the control freak that I am, I didn't want him knowing where I live as he offered to pick me up) I figured he was going to try for a kiss. No big deal. Except it was. We spent quite a while outside together by my car. Leaning in on one another, kissing, talking, kissing, laughing, kissing... you see how it played out. Now, I'll tell you right here and now that I'm a really fucking rotten person. Why? Because I didn't feel a thing. Nothing. Not one bit. As I was kissing him, I kept thinking about when he'd leave, that my beer was good, should I open the wine when I got home, why was I still standing here, that I had to buy stockings for an upcoming event, what I could check out on Twitter when I got home and that he's really nice and I shouldn't be kissing him because he's clearly FAR more into this than I am. Put me on a spit and roast me over the flames of hell.
I even went so far as to think of another person. MORE than one other person. Oddly THAT didn't do anything for me either. That simply proves my point that it really isn't him or anyone else [similar past post], it's me. And just because I found it easier to come home and drink the entire bottle of wine as opposed to recorking it (I mean, who recorks, right?), I'm going to tell you something that I've never told anyone. Honest to God never told ANYONE. Ever. For real. Until now, I am the only person in the entire world that has held this knowledge.
A while back I think I was in love. Not sure because I never had a good example so I just truly don't know, but it ended stupidly. I was literally crushed. About three weeks later I met another guy and we talked and just became friends, and in about a week or so it became more. Totally unplanned, classic rebound. Then I found out that not only was his GIRLFRIEND paying for his apartment, but he never got divorced from his wife and had two kids. Jayzus. So anyway - I fucking short circuited. Like, big time. I made this vow/promise of sorts to myself that I wouldn't let myself have sex or get emotionally involved with anyone unless it was a guy I intended to marry. (Whether it happened or not is irrelevant, just that that was my intent.) After a long while, I changed it to 'someone that I felt I loved, even if they didn't feel the same'. Eventually I altered it to be 'someone that I liked and had mutual respect for and was fun'. You can see the progression when I realized my initial vow (made because I was hurt and frustrated) seemed a bit harsh and self-limiting. I mean, I may never marry, and that's ok, but I thought ahead to verbally/mentally amend my original promise to myself. Or so I thought.
Anyway. Do you have ANY idea when that was? It's so easy to remember because unfortunately it falls within days of an infamous anniversary that keeps those of us in the US (not solely) on our toes... 9/11. So, there was this other guy that I kissed a while after I made that vow but I declined sleeping with him. (Dummy, I'd liked this guy since FOREVER!) There were various opportunities but I just shut myself off to them; full on self-preservation mode. Oh, I should take this moment to clarify - I mean the ORIGINAL 9/11.
That's right. You read correctly (assuming anyone reads my shit anymore) - 9.11.01. I'll let you do the math and assimilate accordingly. I've completely shut myself off to any interaction. Self-preservation comes at a very high price, my friends. (I'll give you a moment to digest that and it's implications.)
So I tried to get into it and remind myself that this guy ("D") really likes me, and has for quite a long time. No luck. Nothing anywhere. It's like the wires were cut. In a way, they were, I cut them many years ago. On my way home, I was too stunned to even cry and figured I'd get home and probably slash my leg somewhere undetectable and just bleed it out. But I haven't yet. I've not done that in a number of years and I hope tonight isn't the night I relapse. Right now, I'm not really sure how that will end.
Christ, how much can one person fuck up their own life in the name of self preservation? I can handle it myself, I suppose, it's kind of all I know. But it isn't fair to him. He doesn't deserve someone who is just going through the motions because of a lifetime of fuckedupness (that is too a real word). And for some unknown, god-forsaken reason, he likes me. A lot.
Sometimes I'm grateful no one reads this anymore. I just had to say this and get it off my chest before I took other (sharper) measures. Like I said, if I lived another 50 years, there wouldn't be enough therapy to right the wrongs. I'd say 'I weep for that' but I don't think I'm able anymore. All lines are severed.
Proof that you never really know what is going on inside the head of anyone you meet.
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