Not Happy

I can't believe it's time for another holiday season. Please, someone hang me by my fingernails or tie me to the rack or waterboard me or something. Any of those would be more fun than holidays. It occurred to me today that I'm going to have to tell my mom that I'm not coming home for x-mas, only because I really don't want to. It was nothing short of miserable last year, so I really have no desire to go back there. But of course, I'll most likely tell her it's because of work.

I'm going to Austin next week to visit some friends that I haven't seen in years, but that's about the only thing I have to look forward to. I've been fighting being depressed for some time now, and it's really a losing battle. It seems like for every happy thing in my life, there are 4 or 5 not so happy things. And then there's my predisposition for analyzing things to the point where there's nothing good about anything anywhere or anytime.

And then I come across an article that basically says that it would be nearly impossible for me to have a kid at my age. Fucking great. Not only am I alone, spurned, shunned, dumped, and generally unwanted (unless you are married, of course), but I'm also barren. I spent most of the day despondent after reading that. I almost called my mom and told her I was sorry that I couldn't give her grandkids, or asking her if she would mind if I decided to just have a kid 'accidentally'. But then, I'm already too old for that stuff. Apparently, being irresponsible pays off. Or having giant tits. Both things I never did or had. So I'm doubly screwed.

Being alone is seriously horrible. I find it difficult to convey to people what it's like, because no one really can understand what it's like to go solo for such a long time. I'm going on 36 or so years. Most people say 'oh, I was single for a year so I understand', but really, they don't. A year would be easy. Fucking child's play. You had to go somewhere without your plus 1 a few times? I've NEVER had a plus one, so go fuck yourself. I've never come home to someone who is happy to see me, to a home cooked meal, to anything at all except an empty house, and I'm so tired of it. I really want some help, some support, some affection. The real kind. Not sex. The affection that makes someone want to watch tv and hold me, or say something nice to me, or do something nice for me, or really treat me like I matter at all.

I guess that is what is the most difficult. No one treats me like I matter. I'm always a low priority, if I'm even on the list. Most of the time I don't even register as a blip on the radar. And then some asshole has the nerve to tell me how great I am, how I just have to be patient, how there is someone out there for me, how I can't give up, how whoever I may be spending time with isn't good enough, and so on. And then they go home to their boyfriend or husband and forget all about me. Which is never a surprise, but it still hurts. At this point, having feelings is really a liability. I want them to go away. There is no point in having them, since they never bring me anything good. Fuck this life. It's so screwed up and I don't think it will ever fix itself. I've tried everything from hypnotherapy to psychotherapy to a psychic, and they all end up the same way. with nothing new, nothing gained. So fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone. I hate you all. Fuck you.

Casa de Curses

And the curse continues. And I continue to be surprised. I'm either the dumbest person on the planet, or the most optimistic. Either one is ridiculous. So I go to LA this weekend for business, and at a party, I meet this guy. We talk for a while, and despite his Michael Bay fetish, we sort of hit it off. We end up making out a bit, and we were going to catch a cab back to his hotel, but through the events that often transpire during drunken adventures, we got separated, and I ended up getting a cab back to where I was staying. the next morning, after some flirtatious texting, we meet for breakfast, talk for a few hours, and then I go to my last meeting for work and bid him adieu. On my way home, several more flirtatious texts are exchanged, with a pseudo promise to meet on another trip to France in the future. Sounds great, right?

Sure, he was a great kisser. And yes, he was intelligent (ignoring Michael Bay for just a moment) and witty and smart and fun. AND he had an accent, being from Australia, so I suppose that was working in his favor as well. "Petrol" is a much more graceful word than "gas", don't you think? Anyway, I kept having this little voice in my head that was telling me something that I either couldn't hear, or didn't want to hear. The only voice I was listening to was saying "This guy is into you. Roll with it." A slightly smaller voice was also saying "He lives REAAAAAALLLLY far away....." but I was stuffing a sock in that one. It was the third voice I should have listened to.

This was the voice that said "This guy is on vacation. Probably from a wife and kids. And you are so convenient. And you live far away." In reality, there is no chance that a guy my age is going to be single. And as we all know, single guys aren't really into me. The ones who are attached is a different story for some reason.

So today I have a little bit of free time, and this guy gave me his business card, so I look up his website. And there, right on the first page, is a video with him in it. Sure, I'll watch it. Everything is fine, until I hear "I got married about four months ago". After that is kind of a blur. I had to rewind it to be sure I heard it right. Check the posting date. Two months ago. So here I am, realizing that this guy hasn't even been married a year, realizing that I fell into the same trap as always, and realizing his AUDACITY at assuming either he wouldn't get caught or I wouldn't care. A little more internet digging, and the whole wifey thing is confirmed multiple times. I wish I could say I couldn't believe it, but really, I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner. Like as soon as I met him. I really am a fucking moron. And all I have to keep me from really really feeling stupid is the comfort that I didn't go home with him, because we all know where that would have led.

So here I am, living in Casa de curses otra vez, and probably forever. Fucking swell.