Half-painted

So I'm frustrated again, and not being very productive. I hate that. I could have watched some movies tonight, but chose to play with the dog and troll the internet all night. Also should have finished my homework, but haven't, so far. I suppose there is still time to do it tonight. I hate it when I do this to myself.

But back to being frustrated. I don't know how to manage my time. I seem to have zero free time, even though I know full well that I have plenty. The dog is getting some of the blame, since I feel like a jerk every time I leave the house and he freaks out. I've been putting off going to the grocery store for about 4 days, now. I'm guessing I'll finally go when I run out of toilet paper, which will probably be tomorrow or the next day.

I'm also irritated that my house isn't painted yet. That moron painter did 75% of the house (said he'd have it done before Thanksgiving, but of course, that was a lie), and now won't answer my calls. It's really starting to piss me off since I have random paint buckets sitting around the house, and I have put off unpacking until all the painting is finished. So I'm still living in a house that has no books unboxed, no furniture in its right place, and plenty of clutter just waiting for its permanent home. And yes, his girlfriend is in town, but that is no excuse to not answer, or even return my calls, or send me some sort of text. My guess is that he is doing his best to portray himself as a guy who doesn't have girls calling him all the time, but to me, that smacks of someone who is guilty guilty guilty. Which, of course, he is. And yes, I know this for a fact. Too bad his gf is such a fucking idiot. You'd think she'd figure it out after 5 years of not being around. But, I suppose, the lies are easier to believe when its what we want to hear. Good luck with that one, dumbass.

Anyway, that's my venting for the day. Irritated about the painting. Asshole.

Spinster

It's a Saturday night and I'm home on the couch drinking vodka and watching movies. Basically, I'm working. Which means things are the same as always: pathetic. Today I was at the community college with the dog, and I couldn't find my keys. My cell phone was at the house. I only had one number in my head, so I borrowed a phone from someone and called the boy. He has a spare key to my house, I thought. He'll come and rescue me. Voice mail. Well, nevermind, because I ended up finding my keys buried in my bag, and ended up feeling like a complete moron. At any rate, I would have thought that a frantic call would have prompted him to at least call me later to check and see that I was okay, but nope, that would be wrong. And even though I really don't have any right to be angry, it still stings quite a bit. On the way home, I tried to think of any other people whose phone numbers are committed to memory, and other than my parents, there are none. This is a problem, for a couple of reasons. Obviously, if I get in a bind, that doesn't work. But also, it mean that there are few people who call me often enough that I see their number and know it. He is literally the only one. Not that he calls me a lot, but he has been calling me for several years.

I think about all the years I wasted taking his calls, thinking he cared, thinking our relationship was going somewhere, and it really irritates me. I feel like an idiot. Now I'm getting to the point where the realization of time is stronger and stronger, and I'm seeing that I have nothing to show for all these years. I'm a spinster. Childless. Single. Broke. I sound like such a winner. I guess I always assumed that things would just happen and fall into place, and they haven't. And now I don't know what to do about it, since it was just supposed to happen.

So I got a dog. It's like an admission that this is the only way anyone will ever love me and look forward to me coming home. An admission that my life is so boring that coming home to take care of the dog is all that I need to do. No chance of impromptu sleepovers, or crazy last minute trips. I guess in a way I've given up. Now I have a little guy to lick my feet and wag his tail when he sees me and mope when I'm gone, but his English isn't very good, and he'll never be able to build anything for me. I guess this is it. The time when I finally admit defeat and start living like the spinster that I always was.

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.

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.