The Middle

I'm writing all this down, just so in a year or so, I can remember how it felt. Because sometimes I forget. Even though right now it's difficult to imagine forgetting feeling like this. Mostly because it's how I've felt for a long time, only worse. I told the boy the other day that I had to go away, that being around him or involved with him in any way was too painful. Too difficult to recover from on a regular basis. Seriously, how can a person be expected to go from being interesting to being non-existent multiple times? To expect recovery? I guess I reached the end of my rope.

So yesterday was, I suppose, some sort of last hurrah. Something we had talked about doing together, and finally did. We went to LA to see some magic, visit some spots, and generally have fun. And I suppose it was. And when I got home, I took off my shoes, then curled up in bed and cried. Not because I didn't have a good time, but because I did have a good time. And it was still missing something, since he went out of his way to not touch me, not be affectionate, and generally be as separated from me as you can be when that's all there is. It's like being trapped in a glass box. You might not see the boundary, but you sure can feel it.

I know I did the right thing. It's just that I also know I did the most painful thing. And for what? So I can be miserable AND alone? Yep. Guess so. It's difficult not to think about all the time I've wasted in my life, and how the rest of it is stretching out before me as one long dusty road to nowhere that I'm going to have to walk alone. With no water. No trees. No birds. Nothing. Just trudging along. Makes me wonder why. If I disappeared tomorrow, would it matter? Would anyone notice? How long would it take? Days? Weeks?

Today I found myself wishing I were 19 more than I ever have in my entire life. To be young again, when there are still chances for do-overs. I think I re-did all my do-overs. And fucked them up even worse upon repetition. It hit me last night: I'm 36 years old, and no one has ever loved me. How is that possible? Am I really that unlovable? I occasionally get to be reminded that I am not the most warm and fuzzy person on the planet, and that sometimes I even instill fear in people, even though I try really hard to be nice to people and generally cheerful. But I end up getting a reputation for being mean. Why is that? Am I really mean, even when I'm trying to be nice? Do I really have so little self-awareness?

Even with that said, it seems like I should have come across someone in all of these years who could like me for who I am. Who thinks my quirks are adorable. The mathematical impossibility of being alone this long is truly mind-boggling.

So is that it? Am I doomed? Is there some sort of therapy for misfits like me? Is there a way to not feel abandoned, rejected, alone, and misunderstood?

I always liked the Rudolph special, mostly because the Island of Misfit Toys seemed like the place for me, even when I was a little kid. I'm the train with square wheels; I never go anywhere smoothly. A couple of weeks ago, I sloppily painted something on my bedroom wall, hoping that it would instill a sense of hope. Nope. Every morning I wake up and see it, and think of how naive it is, and how I'm always and forever alone, never to be reached by anyone. Maybe I should build a taller fence all the way around my property, just so I don't have to see anything. It's so depressing. To be alone isn't anything. It's being no one and nowhere.

And I'm in the middle of it.

Just lonely

I can't keep up with my life. I'm still trying, but finding it more and more difficult to do so, and less and less important to do so. Why do I try? Is there some pot at the end of the rainbow that will fulfill my wildest dreams? No. So what is it all for? I realized today that the only thing I really want is someone to share this life with, and that is the only thing I don't have. Can't get. Same ol' story. It makes me wonder if all the other overachieving is even worth it. Who cares if I'm somebody if nobody else thinks so? I would rather be a nobody that someone thinks is everything than someone who is everything to no one special. It's so fucking frustrating.

I have this friend, who keeps telling me to 'get out there', 'change my habits' in order to 'meet someone new'. She says "I'll go out with you every night if necessary, in order to get you out of the same rut". Since that conversation took place about 6 weeks ago, she and I have hung out exactly zero times. Not for lack of trying, mind you. I propose an activity, she's busy. We make plans, she cancels. It must be nice to feel fine to make promises you never intend to keep. Am I the only person on the planet who takes that stuff seriously? I always kind of thought it was a 'man' thing, but clearly it isn't. I'm learning that people make promises and break them as often as they brush their teeth. It's like changing clothes. It doesn't really matter, in the end. At least not to them. But I suppose it's a lot easier to forget that other people are having a hard time when you have never had a hard time.

My life isn't so bad. It's just lonely.

Needle in a Haystack

So yesterday some women that I know were over at my house, and they asked me to make a list of what I want in a man so they could start looking for me. It started as a pretty simple list: tall, clean cut, nice, etc. And then it morphed into a list of things that are or are not dealbreakers: no smoking, no conservatives, handy, Transformers can't be one of this favorite movies, etc. They joked that I have this list, and the next time they see me, I'll be with someone who is the exact opposite of all those things and be completely in love. Which isn't too far fetched, given my history. I fall into this odd gap of having really high standards, but not really adhering to them and letting men who are not even a little bit worthy trample me until I feel useless. Awesome. How's that for empowerment? Anyway, it was actually a funny discussion, and for some reason, I feel a little better knowing there are other people out there on the lookout for me to find men that don't suck. Not that this is possible in this town, but you never know. It's kind of a needle in the haystack situation.

Keeping up

I'm trying to keep up with my life. It's difficult. Free time is scarce, but somehow I've managed to carve some out. I went out with a guy last night. A guy I went out with for a while about a year or so ago. Then he cancelled on me a couple of times and so I stopped calling him. Not that he was calling me anyway. So I decided to let him go because he didn't seem worth chasing. I already have enough boys to treat me badly; I don't need another one. So anyway, he's been texting me for about the past month or so, and we finally got together last night. It's funny; it seemed like a day hadn't passed, and we had a great time. At the same time, it seemed a little bit different, because he was talking about girls he's dated and men I've dated and so on, and it seemed like he might be in a different mind set now. I'm not sure, and time will tell, but maybe he wants to do it right this time. I don't know. At the very least, it gets my mind off the other boy, who I still haven't really talked to since I chewed him out last month. Unless you count my birthday, which was an odd situation and I don't even have the analytical capabilities to even try to figure it out. Maybe that's the key. I need to stop trying to figure things out because there really is no rhyme or reason to his ridiculousness. He is just a cad and a coward and that is all there is to it. So it's nice to have another boy around to give me some attention and take my mind off things, and possibly be a new thing. And yes, he stayed over last night, so it was more than just a 'friends' date. Anyway, we'll see what happens.

The key will just be to keep up with everything without going crazy. Yikes.

Flee

The most important part of moving forward is forgetting your past. At least it is in my world. But unfortunately, I have been cursed with a very good memory (thanks for nothin', Alcohol). So sometimes I find it difficult to move forward and move on, even though I desperately want to. Gondry may have been on to something with that Eternal Sunshine movie. How beautiful it would be to be able to excise specific people and experiences from your memory, so that you wouldn't have the slightest idea what you were missing, or what had transpired, or who had bewitched you. I would love to have some things and some people erased. I'd be first in line.

Sometimes I think that I'm older and wiser, but if I look close enough, I see that I'm making the exact mistakes I made years ago, over and over again. Mostly in the realm of relationships. Is it so difficult, to really connect with another human being and have mutual love and respect for one another? My experience would say yes. Hollywood would say no. Everyone makes it look easy. I recently finished watching season 5 of Dexter (great show, by the way), and he was lamenting the fact that he was unable to make a human connection to anyone, while other people made it look so easy. Since when do I identify with a (fictional) serial killer? What the fuck is wrong with me? It seems so unfair, to waste away waiting for someone to notice me and appreciate me. I'm not all bad. I'm intimidating, I'm opinionated, I'm forward. But I'm also generous, kind, tender, and thoughtful. I like doing things for people I care about. I like showering them with gifts, affection, or whatever. This all seems normal, so I don't know where I'm getting tripped up. Is it really that difficult to get past the other traits? The ones that make me seem like I might *actually* put someone's balls in a vise until I get what I want? The ones that make me seem like there is no room for someone else in my life except for me? My theory that I'm a nice person I often attacked. By my own ego, no less. Thanks a lot, Benedict.

Perhaps it's the analytical side of me, but it seems mathematically impossible for someone to fail at this so horribly as I have. But there it is. The evidence is irrefutable. So I have come to a sort of decision: I am going to graduate in May (hopefully). If I haven't found a boyfriend by that time, I am going to pursue this whole diplomat thing. Because what's the point of being alone if you can't at least see the world while you're doing it? Sure, there's no one in the pictures, but who fucking cares? And what else is there to do? Stay in this same town and be tortured by all the mistakes I've made for the past 8 years? I'll pass, thank you very much. So there you go. I either get someone to love me, or I flee. Fleeing seems like the easier of the two at this point.

Cruel Summer

Summer is finally over. Yes, I know it was over a long time ago, but it's finally starting to get chilly here, so we've gotten into autumn. Winter is not far behind, even though it only consists of some rain. Professionally, it was a very productive summer. The movie, the art exhibition, and so forth, it all went great. I now live in a house that is more or less mine, and I'm very excited about it. On a more personal level, this was one of the worst summers I've ever lived. Yes, it's the boy. And I keep bouncing back and forth between happy, vehemently angry and irreversibly sad. I can't seem to get a solid footing on what is going on with the boy, and he is incredibly cagey. I haven't spoken to him for more than 10 minutes since early August. I haven't felt like we were even close to being on the same page since April. He's really been a giant a-hole since the beginning of May. I'm not sure what (if anything) changed, but it feels like it has. This is someone who used to always answer my calls, promptly responded to emails, texts, or whatever, and now is always unreachable. It takes days for him to get back to me, if he ever does. Yes, I lost my temper last month, but I feel like after all this time, I'm entitled to losing it just this once. Or maybe me calling him out on his lies and expecting some sort of answer has forced him into hiding, because he is too much of a coward to do what he knows needs to be done. He needs to put someone out of their misery, but he doesn't want to be the bad guy. He just wants someone to volunteer. Fucking moron. Or, as I've recently started believing, he thinks I'm not good enough for him. That he's ashamed to be associated with me, because I'm not rich, not famous, don't know any famous people, and I'm not beautiful enough to make that all okay. I can't talk my way into big fancy parties or introduce him to important or powerful people, and I can't pay for fancy trips to Italy or Detroit (long story) or Charger games. I'm just me, doing my thing. I always thought I was fairly charming, but charm isn't enough to climb the social ladder. And it seems like that might be what he really wants, judging by who he spends his time with.

Anyway, I'm not happy. I feel abandoned, alone, and unsupported. I have a difficult time seeing my way out of this feeling, especially since I don't have other options, and my friends that claim to be there for me are always conveniently out of town or busy doing other things. In the end, no one is there for me, and I have to figure everything out on my own. I desperately want to move on to the part of my life where I have a family and a career and I have a singular direction, and I'm having a difficult time figuring out how to do that. I don't have a problem trying to find someone else; I just don't know how or where to find that person. And how to get them to like me. Or stay with me. Or whatever.

Anyway, yet another post about how miserable I am, mostly through my own ineptitude at doing things correctly, which I've never been able to do. What a fucking terrible summer. Cruel.