Where I’m At

I got a call back on one of the jobs I submitted my resume for in Oregon! I’m not sure that I’m what they’re looking for, though… We chatted, but I haven’t heard from them since to setup a real interview.

I’d like to continue to look for a job in Oregon. I think I’d like to live in the Eugene area. I haven’t been putting my resume out like I should be, though. I’m hesitant about it, and lost some of the inflated confidence in my abilities I had when I got home from Oregon. Work just does that to me. I feel like I’m drowning there. In reality, I know it’s not the job, but the people, who wear on me. The employee that won’t even ACT like she’s busy. The GM with lofty ideas he never thinks out. The excitable employee. The employee who talks in non-sequitur riddles. It’s a lot to deal with, and that’s not even the entire office.

I hope to get back to putting out my resume, soon, but this is also buying me some time to purge the house and really think about this.

I’ve got Mothership on board to leave if we can swing it, though. She’s not attached to anything here and is probably just glad I stopped talking about moving to California where we can’t afford anything. (I have to take her with me… leaving her here would be cruel and unusual.)


My diet is… going. I’m doing the 21 Day Fix, and I thought I was doing well, but maybe not. This week I was down 5lbs… and then this morning I was back up 3. I’m going to try not to weigh except on Monday mornings… I was really disappointed in the gain, even though it’s probably accurate. I wouldn’t have seen it as a gain if I hadn’t been weighing every single day; it would have just been 2 lbs down.

I am trying really hardtop commit to the diet, but my relationship with food is so weird that it’s real hard. I’m trying not to be hard on myself, cuz I’m still down 2 lbs…


Mentally, I’m having a better time than I thought I would.

I stopped my previous self-medicating and I was honestly expecting to crash and burn. I still get swings, but aside from crying at work I’ve been okay. I’ve been good at home; I’m trying to be social; and I’m working really hard keeping myself mostly okay. Being an unmedicated bipolar is hard.

I guess I just have to keep going.


Today was Memorial Day.
I don’t know any fallen veterans, so it’s really just a fortunate day off for me.

I got up and laid grass seed this morning. Then it hailed and I got pelted trying to move my car into the garage. My head is still tender, but at least the seed got some rain. I have to remember to water it again in the morning…

I didn’t see Mothership today, but I probably should have. She’s been having really bad sciatica type pain and it makes her getting around hard. I hung out with her this weekend, though, so I guess I did my due diligence.

We binge watched the first 4 episodes of Twin Peaks: The Return. It’s a little more crazy than the original was, but considering where it picked up, I guess that’s to be expected. We were really excited about its release, so it was a good excuse to hang out and for me to make her lunch on Sunday.

Saturday we saw Pirates of the Caribbean 5. It was entertaining. Not as good as 1-3, of course, but entertaining, and I’m excited for the next two that we’ve already been promised. Cap’n Jack Sparrow is more of a caricature in this one, as characters get to be as a really good gimmick gets older, but I still had a good time. And some guy in the theater spilled churro sauce on me… so that’s fun.


I guess that’s it for me. That’s where I’m at. Hoping that this week I can come home every night and find time to try and sort some stuff, purge some stuff, and stay motivated with the idea of moving in mind. Plus, eat right. Maybe go for some walks to boost that weight loss thing I’m attempting.

OREGON IS SO GREEN

 

I spent the last week in Oregon!!!  And oh my gawd, it is SO GREEN!!!

Snapchat-198430322.jpgMonday morning I flew out to Portland to spend a week with my best friend Billie. She moved there about a year and a half ago, and I finally had money to visit. PDX was confusing… they have a lack of proper signage, but it’s still a pretty nice airport.

Since Billie lives about an hour south, in Salem, we spent the afternoon in downtown Portland. It was weird, because downtown Portland looks a lot like Downtown Denver… just smaller. We had lunch at a food truck (yay Gyros!) and then grabbed some Fraps at Starbucks before heading out to Salem.

When we got back to her place, her hubby was waiting for Injustice 2 to activate! They got it specifically because I was coming out. That was super nice. Billie made gumbo and we lost incredibly to her super skilled husband.

Snapchat-1847588434.jpgTuesday, we went into downtown Salem. It’s not much of a downtown, to be honest. It’s six blocks and most of it is mall, but we ate at Coin Jam and played House of the Dead! It’s like a less busy 1UP. I really liked it. After that, we went to Book Bin where I picked up a book on Einstein disproving the existence of Vulcan (cuz I’m a goddamn nerd) and a Twin Peaks novel for mom and I. It was great. I love me a good book store.

Wednesday we had lunch at a small brewery called McMenamins. It was cute. I taught Billie how to sample flights of beer. Then we strolled around downtown Salem and she showed me a store that flaunts a spooky ass haunted doll, amongst other weird antique kinda things.

snapchat-1618068878.jpg After that, we went to Starbucks, so I could pee, and I looked at the menu and ordered a “Hand-Shaken Iced Tea.” The clerk just looked at me and was like, “what… flavor?” So I glanced at the board, and they had black, green, white, and I think red tea. I assumed that was my bad and asked for black, cuz I love me some black tea. He was like, “That is the vaguest order I’ve ever heard.” So… attempting to remain calm, cuz I still really needed to use the bathroom, I was like, “Okay, but it’s on the menu above your head?” And he literally turned around, stared at the menu and was like, “oh my god it is… no one has ever ordered that…”

So, I confused the barista by ordering a basic iced tea… so that was a weird adventure I’ll never forget…

Thursday was my FAVORITE DAY.

20170518_142405_061.jpgBillie drove me to Newport. Now, you have to understand that Newport is NOT close to Salem. Also, she intentionally took some back roads to make it really fucking scenic. So, we were in a car for two hours. I played DJ, because I had music saved to my phone and she didn’t. Fortunately, the thing Billie and I like about each other the most is that we are VERY malleable in the preference department. So, she had fun listening to all my weird synth electronica and metal covers of 80s songs.

We drove through Dallas, OR, which was surprisingly cute. It has farms, and then just some random suburban looking homes. It also has a small business area with like, little local businesses, grocery store, and I think they had a Walmart. I couldn’t help but think how much it looked like a small southern town, and how much mom would love it.

Mom really misses seeing nothing. As Denver, and Colorado in general, grows, we tend to lose the nothing. It’s like the opposite of The Neverending Story.

She picked Newport because 20170518_114716_055.jpgthey have an aquarium, and that aquarium has a Giant Red Octopus, and I love octopuses… Especially giant red ones that are located in small coastal towns.

So we wandered around the aquarium. They had this ridiculous eel that was totally a ham for the camera. He was enormous! And I totally wanted to pet him… but they don’t let you do that.

We also played with the petting pool… and I felt bad about that, because of that scene in Finding Dory where they all scream and hide, but it was just sea cucumbers, sea anemones, and starfish. Sorry. Sea stars… the lady in charge made it REALLY clear that they are not at all fish and that we are in charge of being sure the younger generations do no refer to them improperly.

20170518_105446.jpgWe got hugged by the anemones. We pet the sea cucumbers. We pet coral sea stars, leather sea stars, and… something else that felt more like leather than the leather stars. The leather stars felt slimy and gross…

After the aquarium we had lunch at a little brewery that was right on the coast. Like, it’s so much on the coast that there were fishermen in rubber coveralls having lunch there, and cleaning fish out back. Oddly, they did not serve seafood. I guess when you live on the coast it’s nice to have pulled pork and burgers, since you deal with fish every single day. We both got flights of beer, and chatted, and it was really nice. We thought of doing a tour, but didn’t. Instead, we hit the beach.20170518_141510.jpg

Here is a picture of me running toward the beach… I was REAL excited. It was a nice overcast day, and the whole week was in the 50s and 60s, but I was still hecka excited to be at a beach and smell salt water, and see dogs running in the surf!

We went to Nye Beach, and it was hella fucking cute! It reminds me of home, back in Pensacola, but with less weird hick locals… Billie insists Oregon has hicks, but I didn’t see any. The houses were adorable, everything was hecka green right up to the cliffs, and the sound of the waves was everything.

20170518_142405_061.jpgI’ve never been to a Northwestern Beach before, and it was interesting, because I’m used to dunes. Pensacola has a protected dune habitat that I grew up walking. It’s squishy and makes your legs tired, but is great for that classic beach aesthetic. Northwestern Beaches are dramatically different. For one, there’s the cliffs. Ain’t got cliffs in Pensacola. Also, the sand is hard, hard as concrete under your feet. It was weird! But the beach was nice. We checked out some tide pools and sat on a log to watch the waves for a while. It was a great way to end the day and prep for the long drive back. We decided to head back to the apartment a little early so we could rest up before going to a movie.

That evening she and her hubster took me to Cinebar, which was really nice for little Salem. It’s just a movie theater that serves really real food items… we didn’t eat there, though. We saw Alien Covenant! And it was great. I mean, it’s not the first or second movies, but it was a great sequel to Prometheus, if you ask me… and this is my blog, so you kinda did… 20170518_181346.jpg

There were some other storylines that went on while I was visiting. A, I managed to art! Billie let me use her colored pencils, and for the first time in months I managed to produce some good pieces. They’re just little illustrations, but they’re good, and making them made me feel good. Here is one of them. I really like the expression on this one.

20170515_072906.jpg2, I read a book. I brought a couple of books with me, because I assumed I’d be awake before everyone (I was correct) and I needed something to do on the plane rides. I managed to kill Fahrenheit 451 pretty early in the week, and I started The Never-ending Story before I left. I got some Snapchat-282850064.jpggood reading in, and I felt really good about it, because I haven’t been great at reading consistently. It takes a lot more concentration power than I’ve been able to manage most of the time. While I was bummed that my flight to Denver was delayed 40 minutes, it did give me more time to put into reading. So I guess that wasn’t too bad.

D, I was on a mission for Billie’s cats to love me. Billie’s had Galaxy for years, but Galaxy is a very small, declawed, black cat that hates people. At least, that’s who she used to be. While I was visiting, it was amazing! She was out and yelled at people to pet her… It took a couple of days, but she warmed up to me pretty good. The real Everest was Tara. She’s new, and she’s weird. She’s real skittish, and doesn’t even really like Billie or Aaron that much. I pretty much stalked that cat the whole time I was there, because I wanted her to love me. When she kept clawing the carpet, I volunteered to hold her while Billie clipped her nails. Then I held her while she made sad cat noises… Lol. She didn’t really LIKE that, but afterwards, she didn’t really run from me anymore. I wouldn’t say we bonded, but Thursday she let me pet her on the head for a good long while. So… it was pretty successful… Lol.

I’m not looking forward to going back to work. While I was gone, things just got…worse. I’m so tired of my job and the ridiculous people there who can’t follow procedures, or think for themselves. There’s some borderline shifty shit happening, that I will refrain from explaining for possible legal reasons. But… I put in some resumes for some Oregon dealerships. I would love to move to Newport. I even found a super cute home that I think Mom and I could live mostly comfortably in (can’t leave her here). My resume went to a lot of places not in Newport, though. I gotta find a job first. I can catch up on housing after I maybe secure income… But I want out. Out of my job. Out of Denver. Out of Colorado. I want something new, something different. Billie being a couple hours drive away is a real motivation to move, too. I miss her so hard, and she hasn’t made any friends yet…

So… that’s where I’m at. I’m in love with the idea of leaving. I miss Billie already. But I had a really good time.

Also, I’m starting a diet tomorrow. It’s the 21 Day Fix. I wanted it to be pretty easy. I won’t be doing the home workouts, but I figure I can walk in the evening… that’s a good start, cuz I am SO FAT.

But yeah… PICTURE OF AWESOME FRIENDSHIP!

20170518_144031.jpg

Mothership

I’m abnormally close to my mother. Not in a gross way, just in an uncommon way.

After my dad left, things were bad. We were broke. People kept breaking into our house. She lost her job. All kinds of shit just rained down on us from the sky like some cataclysmic plague sent by god. Things got worse and worse, to the point that my mother was selling off our possessions on the side of the road to make ends meet. I even setup my own little stand, at 2 years old, and sold my toys, but I remember it feeling like some kind of game than something dire. Things were bad, really bad, but my mother is the kind of person that made shit work. I never knew things were so bad until I got older.

Things got a little better later. Mom somehow managed to afford my tuition for private school, and a little duplex home. I had a happy childhood, really, but eventually things were bad again. We were strapped.

We moved to another state so that she could get a job and we could have a better life where we didn’t sell all our things to strangers or cut corners on anything and everything. It was a rough start. I remember that we lived in a motel room for a while. That didn’t bother me so much, because after my dad left I started sleeping with her anyways. We eventually found an apartment, but it wasn’t in a good part of town, so I wasn’t allowed to play outside. Instead, I got the master bedroom so I had room to play inside.

Things got better, but not without consequence. Mom finally made enough money to buy a really real house, but landing the sale nearly killed her. Then the overtime she had to work to pay for the house nearly killed her. Also, taking me out of private school nearly killed her. She felt incredibly guilty about the fact that I became a latch-key kid and spent tons of time alone. She’s spent most of my life feeling guilty. Guilty for picking the wrong dad, for not being able to make time, for working too much, for not providing enough, for this, and that, this thing over here…

When I turned seventeen and graduated from high school, she helped me buy the house next door to her, as it was a foreclosure and I kept threatening to move up where the druggies lived: it was all I could afford. The house she’d bought was far too small for me and her to co-habitate (not a word, btw)… At a puny 750 sq ft, we just tripped over each other and got under each other’s skin. We tried to make the house nice, but it never really got there. While it was the most economic thing she ever did for me, I’m not always sure it was our best choice.

I had a house, so I filled it. I filled it with things and pets, and at one point people. In recent years, what was a thing to fill was just became something to hold me back from doing anything. I have too many things. I have too many pets. Somehow I ended up with no people, though. No room for them with all those things and pets.

I never felt like I could move. Moving four dogs and a cat is daunting. Going through all my shit and getting rid of a bunch of it is daunting. More than anything, if I left, I’d leave my mother alone. Most people don’t think twice about that kind of thing, but my mother is single with no family in the state. Really, no family in the world, as the family doesn’t really stay in touch. Her sister is worthless and doesn’t even call to check on her. Mom does have an uncle around her age that checks in on her, but I don’t think she’d like to hang out with him ALL the time.

So leaving would literally leave her here alone. What if something were to happen? It would be my fault. I wouldn’t be here to do anything for her.

But what do you do when you’re not happy?

It’s not a recent thing, but I feel like whenever I talk, my mother gets mad at me. She doesn’t like when I explain thing. She doesn’t like when I tell her fun facts. She seems happier when I don’t know, like she just wants to say something without having things explained to her. It makes me feel like shit, to be honest. I don’t know how to be another way, but my nature seems to irritate her. She’s always accusing me of being agitated just because I’m explanatory and saying I’m getting upset, but I only get upset when I try to tell her something and she just goes, “I dunno.” I AM TELLING YOU. NOW YOU KNOW. WHY DO YOU NOT LISTEN TO ME?!

I’m not sure what to do when I think I’d be better mentally if I were away from her, but can’t bring myself to leave her here alone…

One Week

One week from today I’ll be with my Billie in Oregon.
I’m very excited about it. I’ve missed her so much.

Billie and I met by happenstance. Her boyfriend had posted a Craigslist ad for someone to hang out and watch horror movies with. Billie was a lot more interesting than her boyfriend. It cracked me up, because when they split Billie didn’t want to tell me they broke up; I dunno why. When push came to shove, though… I helped Billie move out and she got me in the breakup. Lol.

I couldn’t have known how much I’d like Billie. She was just so… HER… all the time. Whether she was a goth or a hippy, she was overwhelmingly her, and I loved that. I’m not sure I’ve ever just been me, so I guess that’s why it’s such an admirable quality.

When she moved away with her new boyfriend, I wrote her everyday until she broke up with him and came back to live in my basement for a while. Her boyfriend sold everything he owned in an “I Love Billie” yard sale, and hopped a flight to come back for her. It was super cute. They lived with me for a bit, but then got their own place, and eventually her job took her away from me again, this time to Oregon.

It’s been sad not having her around, because no matter what I want to do, Billie would do it with me. Band she’s never heard of? Let’s go. Alt punk fashion show? Totes in. Video games and pizza? No hesitation. Billie is just that kind of person…

BUT I GET TO SEE HER NEXT MONDAY!!!!!!!

So… yay countdown.

Being Nice Is Abysmal

I don’t know why, but I end up in a lot of one-sided relationships.

For the most part, I don’t mean romantic relationships, especially since I haven’t had one of those since 2012, but platonic relationships: friendships, in particular.

I guess it’s because, in spite of my very best efforts, I’m a nice person. Literally,

I am the kind of person that will bend over backwards to try and make everything okay. Even if we aren’t close, even if we haven’t spoken in a while: if you are distressed, I will go out of my way to brighten your fucking day. It’s a shitty thing to be, honestly, because people definitely try to take advantage of it. I like to think it’s unintentional, but I’m pretty sure that’s just that niceness in me trying to sugar coat the truth of people being shit and taking advantage of nice people.

​One of the best examples of this is that when I was in my senior year of high school (I think) my best friend stopped talking to me. Not just to me, in fact, he stopped talking to everyone and totally dove head first into a terribly unhealthy relationship. It wasn’t really an uncommon thing, for my friends to totally abandon everyone else when they got into a relationship, but it hurt my feelings. This came after years of me tearing my hair out while trying to accommodate him and be the very best friend, ever. I was miffed. I was hurt. I was depressed and tormented over it… and one day there he was, parked outside my mother’s house crying. I didn’t even think twice about getting in his car and going somewhere with him so he could tell me what happened with his boyfriend, playing the ever sympathetic, ever reliable friend that I ever was.

I don’t really regret that day. I’d missed my friend, and everyone makes mistakes. Still, I can’t tell you why I was so ready to forgive. I’d spent all of high school trying to make this kid like me. He was the first person in high school to talk to me. I tried so hard to conform, to like what he did, to be a person that he’d want to keep around. I literally spent time crying when he’d bail on me for someone else, and he’d just thrown my friendship out like an old milk carton because a guy had come along. When push came to shove, though, I wanted him to be my friend more than I was bitter. One thing about me, though… I forgive, but I never forget. He ended up moving away and growing up to be a very important person. He’s happy. He’s happier than I ever remember him being. As much as I’d like to hold a grudge about the way I perceived myself to be treated, I let him treat me that way. I was a different person then… but we’re still friends.

Then there was the one person I fell for. She was insecure, unsure, and always second guessing herself, but she was also the sweetest, kindest person you could hope to meet. I grew really attached to her. To be honest, I think I was in love with her. I didn’t do anything about it, because she’s straight, but I cared about her more than anyone I’ve ever bothered to date. Over time, though, she grew away from me. She got wrapped up in some stuff, and with some people I just didn’t care for. I kept trying to keep her close, anyway. I tried to date someone similar to who she was hanging out with as proof that I was totally cool with everything. That blew up in my face, but not before she completely abandoned me because the guy she was dating didn’t care for my presence…

I’d like to be mad about that one, and for a few years, I definitely was. I was tormented over it. I didn’t understand what had happened, and I felt totally alone in the world. It took a while to realize that what I had previously provided her with, which was a lot of reassurance, affection, and security, was better coming from a man. She wanted to get married and have a family, and no matter how good of a friend I was to her, and no matter how much I loved her, I was never going to provide her with that. No, as much as I wanted to be angry that she deserted me, I can’t be mad about that. I’m still sad that my years of support essentially boiled down to nothing. I’m still hurt that even though I was ready to make every exception to every rule to be the person she needed to be, that I would never be that person. I still wish things were different… but through various methods of stalking, I know she got married, and that she had a beautiful little boy, and last time I checked she seemed very happy. I cannot fault her for pursuing happiness, even if I wasn’t part of that equation.

Somewhere in there were the Trixie chronicles. I was seventeen, she was twenty-something, and we had a lot of adventures. Somehow it was always about her, though. Her life was always on the verge of falling apart. There was the abusive boyfriend, who was my boyfriend’s roomie. There was her crazy mother. There was her ex-husband, who never really understood how to be a divorced dad. There were the various minions she collected, some other boyfriends she didn’t really seem to like… All that time, I was happy to follow her around like a puppy. I was having a complete crisis in my own life, but her adventures were a welcome distraction, until Mr. Man showed up. He was a friend of a friend of mine from high school, and she fell for him so hard… and… once again someone I needed no longer needed me.

I can’t really be mad about that one, either. Yeah, it sucked to drift away from each other, but she was so happy. Also, I had some shit of my own that I’d been avoiding dealing with. It was really unfortunate to hear that they ended up not working out. He packed up and left over Christmas last year. I don’t really know what happened, but I couldn’t go back to being her sidekick. I think she was disappointed by that.

There were, of course, the Bird & Mouse adventures. Bird was great to hang out with. She liked me. We’d go out and do stuff we both liked… I got tired of things with Bird, though. I got tired of her being late. I got tired of her trying to talk to me about her weight when I weight like twice as much as her. I got tired of being out with her and everyone looking at her, instead of me. (Yeah, I resent the girl for being pretty. I’m only human.) I got tired of her hearing about her parents, and this guy she was seeing, and how everything was so dramatic.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re still friends, but with a healthy amount of space. I’d grown too much to be the person she wanted me to be. I wasn’t her sidekick. I didn’t have the patience for everything to be a trauma… and god damn it, I’m punctual. I stopped offering for us to ride together. I stopped asking to hang out, using my dogs or my job as an excuse to dodge most of her requests… and I let us grow apart.

I find myself in another one-sided friendship… My friend is nice enough, but somehow I allowed our friendship to be based around my being part of his support system. He was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Mood Disorder after an unfortunate suicide attempt. I didn’t mind being around for to start with, seeing as how I’ve been diagnosed bipolar for years, but we’re at a point where I’m irritated with him.

A, He lets his Bipolar run his life.

I know that meds will wreck you and that moods are unpredictable. I live that shit. A while ago, however, I had to say fuck it to letting life get hung up on my bipolar. I FORCE myself to be a normal person. I don’t call in when I’m too sad to get out of bed… I roll myself onto the floor and cry all the way to the shower, followed by getting dressed, pushing all my emotions into a tight little ball that will one day give me cancer, and go to work. I don’t do meds anymore because they wrecked my life and I had to take the initiative to do what was best for me to function. If you’re going to be on meds and you’re unsure how they will react, you do start them on a day when YOU DON’T HAVE TO GET UP IN MORNING. That’s common sense.

2, He’s what my other gay friend call A-Gay. All he knows is gay. He’s not gay, but a gamer. He’s not gay, but something else. He’s JUST gay. And that’s fine… but it’s boring. I really signed on for more than just a friend who JUST gay… RuPaul’s Drag Race is great, but I’m not a gay man. I don’t care about going to gay bars and using the identity of a gay man as an excuse to not know basic pop culture references, just because they aren’t about gay men is kind of irritating… like… be multifaceted.

D, He’s not coping well. I don’t understand people who want to get wrecked every fucking day. More so, I don’t understand people who get wrecked when they have company. You want to have a drink? Let’s have a drink. You wanna get twisted every Friday when I come over to see you? Nah, bro. You’re boring.

So we do very little in the way of things I want to do…. and I’m just fucking over it, to be honest. I’m tired of people expecting me to do what they want and no one ever wanting to join me for things I want to do.

Years ago I did everything alone, because no one wanted to do the things I wanted to do. Then for a while I’d made some friends that were already at the things I wanted to do… but they’ve all filtered out now… and I’m back to wanting to do shit and having NO ONE to do it with… As much as I’m dreading it, I guess I’m going to have to do shit on my own again… which I hate, because I’m not good at talking to strangers. I’m not good at making new friends. I’m especially bad at feeling comfortable somewhere alone. But what else am I going to do? Sit on my friend’s sofa and watch him get wrecked every Friday until I die? Sit in my house and binge watch Netflix every evening till I die?

No… I guess I’m going have to fucking enjoy life alone…

This. This is the only reason I want a relationship. I want someone who is obligated to come to a thing with me. I’ll go to their things, too. I like doing new shit. But my life would be better with someone to share it with… friend, lover… someone besides my dogs, since I can’t take them to concerts and clubs with me…

I’M SO FUCKING TIRED OF BEING LONELY, EVEN WHEN PEOPLE ARE IN MY LIFE

Another Let Down

I have determined, through much experimentation, that my main problem when it comes to dating is that I refuse to beg for attention. My information on this front is purely anecdotal, obviously, but it would seem that men (and women, tbh) find my lack of need for attention to be off-putting. And so, my dear readers, I am once again just going to give up trying to date… cuz I’m not good at it, apparently.

I can’t argue against the fact that when you get to know me I’m fairly cold, calculating, and operate much like a computer simulated personality. To start with, I document and log information you give me so as to determine the “correct” response to whatever you’re talking to me about. I’ve been known to do research on things so as to better acclimate myself to being associated with people. Most of my responses at the beginning of a social interaction are artificial. I’m very much fake, and I know that. Still, it takes time to notice, if you even notice ALL of that. Once you get to know me, if that isn’t enough to make you turn tail and run, I will tone it down and be more myself, but part of being myself is also being slightly fake anyways. People who’ve known me for a long time might know this without putting a name to it, but it’s just something people adapt to or run from. I can’t help it. I’m incapable of natural interaction.

Dating is weird, though. Everyone seems to want you to crave them like heroin. I’m not that kind of person. I’m totally fine with not talking to someone everyday. I have my own life and it doesn’t have some gaping hole in it because I’m alone. I guess it’s uncommon for a person to be totally whole and complete by themselves? That sounds condescending as shit, but the successful relationships I witness aren’t two totally complete people that happen to like associating, they’re two people that seem to need each other. Once they don’t need each other anymore they fall apart; there’s no room for the other person anymore. By that logic, I don’t have room in my life for another person… and maybe I don’t but I would never know, since no one gives me a chance to make the room.

I got a phone number of a guy two weekends ago. Bird and I were at a show, and this guy was funny, seemed nice, and I ended up getting his number because he asked for mine. Well, I hadn’t heard from him by Wednesday, and I like to make plans. So, I hit him up, because I’m a strong, independent woman and don’t need no man to make the first move. The conversation was nice enough, and drug out over two days, but he didn’t ask to see me and I haven’t heard from him since. I debated texting him again… but if he wanted to talk to me, I feel like he would. I’m not going to beg for attention. I have shit to do. I’m just irritated because if he were to ask me on a date, I’d like to have the time left open for him, but my weekends fill up pretty quick. If you’re not on the schedule, you don’t get to see me.

Based on all this info, I’m just going to forget that I got his number. I don’t have the patience to wait on him…

Also… it kind of hurts my feelings. I was excited that someone in really real life had picked me out to have interest in. I was excited to get to know someone knew. I was excited to maybe get laid. I was just excited for things to be different and interesting. I’m asexual and aromantic, but I’m not dead. I could use someone new in my life… We didn’t seem to have a lot in common, but we could have. I could have learned some new stuff and developed some new hobby. That’s what I like about new people in my life… It’s a chance to expand with purpose, not just for the sake of being the smartest person in the room.

I hate when I do this to myself…
I get my hopes up for something new and fun and different before it’s certain that it’s even going to be a thing… but then I feel like when I’m not excited about something new I end up wrecking it by NOT being excited…

So I dunno how I’m supposed to feel…

But mostly I feel disappointed.