Time does NOT heal all axe wounds

I'm a big believer in time healing all wounds when it comes to relationshits. 

But no one mentions how time can also phantom-cockblock you when you discover too late in the proceedings that one of your favorite go-to, Old Faithful masturbation fantasies -- the ones you rely on to get you there repeatedly and thoroughly when you can't quite close on your own -- doesn't...fucking...WORK anymore. (This one involved That Guy, but SHUT UP, my clitoris was always happy!) 

Personal growth is bullshit. The bulliest shit there is. (Joking. I just wish I could've somehow gotten the orgasm BEFORE the epiphany.)

BRB, changing my OkCupid profile to say my vagina is now accepting Tribute volunteers. #StuntedSingleton

My friendship with Internet science is decidedly NOT magic

Well. That is excellent.

I mean, I already knew, from that clusterfuck with That Guy and a few experiences since -- I'm going through one now, actually. I am clearly a shit judge of friendship, but knowing there's science afoot doesn't make it any less depressing.

Thanks, Internet. You are NOT my friend. At least I know that.

Sad Study Shows Most of Your Friends Don’t Actually Like You

Reading too much into Goodreads

I checked out the profile of the OkCupid guy I wrote about earlier, and I'm not interested, so the name thing won't even be an issue. (If I met anyone cool, I'd likely get over a name pretty quickly.)

Weirdness factor, though: In his profile, the OkCupid guy linked to his Goodreads page. I clicked it, and it took me directly to a Goodreads page that asked me to accept a friend request from him. I didn't know that was a thing. I declined the request, but then noticed it also had him "following" my reviews, which I also didn't know was a thing. So I went to find who else follows my reviews -- and it's him and That Guy, plus two other people I don't know. 

Fucking Internet. 

I don't write reviews, so it's not as if there's anything to follow, but I locked down my Goodreads, anyway. 

I'm almost positive That Guy friend-requested me on Goodreads a million years ago, and when I declined, Goodreads automatically did the "follow" without him even realizing; he's likely never noticed because I don't post anything there. So I'm not implying that he's, like, stalking my reading list -- that would be dumb. The sequence of events was just freaky.

Blow me, Shakespeare -- EVERYTHING is in a name.

I never mentioned that Elbows Guy had the same name as my ex.

But let's say my ex's name is John -- Elbows Guy was a grown-ass man who chose to go by "Johnny." That was enough of a departure to clear him for a first date, but in hindsight I don't know what I was thinking. Moaning "Johnny" in bed was not gonna work for me, just generally. But also, my ex's family called him Johnny when he was a kid, and occasionally as an adult at family gatherings. So in any sexual context, Johnny has "ick" all over it. (Johnny Castle notwithstanding.)

So of course today I get a nice enough first message from a different OkCupid guy, and I'm thinking, "Huh. This is pretty good, I'll probably respond," but then toward the end he says, "By the way, my name's 'That Guy.'"*

Of course it fucking is.

I gotta stop screwing around with guys with common names. Next guy I get naked with has to be named, like...Moonbeam.


*If you've just followed recently, That Guy is the pseudonym I assigned to a guy who hurt me pretty badly, and when I used to talk to friends about him, they'd be like, "Oh, THAT guy..."

Elbows Guy III: The Reckoning

As I mentioned, Elbows Guy emailed me back after I'd told him his comment bugged me.

Here's what I'd said, between other things we'd been discussing, one of which was a second date:
"You tell me if you end up free Tuesday, and I'll tell you if my ashen elbows and I can join you. Sound good? (Can you tell I took that far too seriously and now wonder if you're a. Mean, or b. Will think/say things about the rest of my body if ever you see it?) :)"

His response, also among other topics:
"You definitely are reading too much into the elbows thing. It was just a simple observation since your skin is really soft and your elbows were a little rougher (I suspect from resting them on your desk while in hardcore writing mode). It's the little details like that which I find fascinating in people, especially women, since they usually have a story to tell.

"Your (a) vs (b) question is actually the same question - 'is this guy a judgey asshat who's going to make fun of me and my quirks in order to make up for his own insecurities and fragile ego?' And the answer to that is no. I have a very thick skin and will occasionally say something without thinking how someone not similarly thick-skinned will take it, but I'm not a judgey asshat. I have a sneaking suspicion that was not the case with one or more of the guys you have recently dated."

Ahem...

1. I pay a nice lady to be my therapist. I don't need you and your degree from the Lifetime Movie School of Emotional Trauma.

2. I HAVE projected from previous men I've known, but I'm usually self-aware enough to recognize it. (Like when you called me "Miss" the other day and my brain spasmed because that's what That Guy called all the faceless, interchangeable women in his harem -- THAT was projecting. I knew it, and I shut it down.)

3. I don't lean on my desk while I'm writing. My elbows are just shitty. (And way to double down on telling me so.)

4. "I'm not a judgey asshat, but I'm gonna point out your faulty sentence construction." (I know he's right. Shut up.)

Sometimes my brain goes all River-Tam-batshit-banana-pants-at-the-end-of-Serenity -- swinging weapons around in a circle to fight off whoever comes near her. Whenever I've stuck that feeling out because, "I might be overreacting," I really can't remember a time my brain was wrong.

Don't call it a flashback

Heading to dinner with friends in the town I used to live in. The town in which I'd kissed/gone out with/done things with my ex, and then with That Guy, in various locations. 

*deep breath*

"Lamictal be with you."

"And also with you."

$3 margaritas will probably also help. 

"That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works."

I've been talking to other "open relationship" guys on OkCupid, because apparently I'm open-minded now (?), and motherFUCK me -- leave it to me to find a Clinger in an open relationship.

How are you texting me every day, morning and night? Go text your main Bunny, Hef. The point of me exploring this option was that I wouldn't meet clingy people. How have you pushed a potential sidepiece to my "Please stop talking" threshold in less than 4 days? Do you have to have the open relationship because you talk too much for one woman to handle?

I get the sense his lady has had more success with this setup than he has.

He asked if I was OK because my most recent texts haven't been as enthusiastic or flirtatious, so I mentioned I was at work, and still debating if I can handle the open relationship.

He's still talking, "joking" that it's OK if I just want to be friends, but that I'll change my mind when I meet him.

OK, Karma, you've made your point: I behaved like a desperate, slutty Clinger with That Guy. I realized that on my own, and have tried to adjust accordingly, even with friends (minus the "slutty" bit). Are we done here?

And good work, dude -- congrats on being the reason I go back to giving people a Google Voice number instead of my real one.

Thankfully there's still another open-married guy. Hee. We like him -- he's dreamy and wants to go down on me. I'll have to name him. Probably, like..."Matt Trimony." Heh. I'm clever.

Slutty McSidepiece and the Stage 5 Clingers

Talking to a friend...

Me: "I'm thinking about hooking up with an 'open marriage' guy from OkCupid."
Friend: "You could try it. I mean...you're already IN therapy."

There's immense appeal in a guy who'll come with me to a movie, come with me in the bedroom, then get the hell out. When I try to date proper, I attract Clingers, get anxious, and make terrible choices. That shouldn't be an issue with one who's already housebroken.

But I also know myself, and I may be too insecure to come second...literally or otherwise. If Dude satisfies my needs too well, I may catch feels, and if I fall for him, I'm SOL. The wife's gonna stay the wife -- I'd just be Slutty McSidepiece. I do not do well as Slutty McSidepiece.

I wonder if I'd rather fend off Clingers and hold out for a person with whom feels are at least an option, even if we never get there.

Then again... I don't HAVE to date the guy long. Maybe I NEED a naked friend to fuck some clarity into me without all the relationship crap.

Also, if you consider where I am mentally, I might as well be in an open marriage, too. I have one guy I'd drop anything and anyone to help and/or be with, so as far as my heart and brain are concerned, I also have a "primary partner." Then I still have the second guy in the back of my head, just for bonus emotional fuckery, so I have even worse trust issues than before. I can't handle a real relationship, are you crazy?

Plus, if the guy turns out to be boring, I can just say I can't handle playing second fiddle. (And that may actually turn out to be true.)

I can spot a Clinger at 50 paces now, anyway -- "Oh, you're doing THAT? Yeah, I've done that. I INVENTED that. Don't even." So far I've encountered three on OkCupid, and I've dodged them all without ever meeting them.

I'm a Recovering Clinger, and I approved this message.

P.S. I actually ran this by the therapist and she says I'm in the clear as long as I'm safe. She told me it was good for me to explore options, to be aware of those emotional attachments I still have, to be conscious of what I need, and possibly work out a way to GET it without pressuring myself about being in a "proper" relationship. I think this is a good intermittent step, and she seems to agree.

P.P.S. Dude is ADORABLE and I want to make all the sex with him.

Musical Masochism

I've heard this song a bunch of times since That Guy "made it like it never happened and that we were nothing," and I was perfectly fine. But it just came up on my Pandora playlist and suddenly I'm a weepy bitch over it?

Li'l early for PMS, isn't it, Body? Though I suppose that would explain the recent irritability, exhaustion, insatiable libido, and mass consumption of salty, cheesy Mexican food with Girl-Scout-cookie chasers. 

This is all fine. (It actually is. It's out of my hands. There's literally nothing I can do except "breathe and reboot." Plus I think I've proven I'm stronger than Weepy Bitch, even if on occasion she IS the one who knocks.)

Neither missing me by my hair nor missing me everywhere...

Seems fitting for Groundhog Day, but with advance apologies to the few readers who emailed me to say I shouldn't waste anymore time in this place...

This is the point in the That Guy cycle when I'm worried we're not actually done -- that I'll let my guard down and then he'll pop up somewhere. It's been a discernible pattern, so much that I'm in a mental fighting stance every time I check any element of my digital existence.

I don't think it's going to happen this time. We weren't exactly kind to each other. And he wasn't trying to resurrect our friendship, which it turns out we never HAD. He was just finally confirming he'd been using my body and affection to make himself feel better, and that I was inadequate in both capacities. (Still a great feeling if you ever get the chance.)

Logistically, I don't see how he COULD pop up. He can still see this page because it's public (everybody wave!). I'm not changing that to avoid one person. (Unless it's, like, Dexter.) But I don't think he's going to "like" anything after I gave him a bunch of shit about liking posts about my body or masturbation.

I think I've taken every other precaution, but I'm still a little on edge. When I stopped speaking to him last New Year's, I don't think a month passed thereafter where he didn't remind me he was checking on me -- a text, blog like, Facebook friend request (to my professional account), a LinkedIn profile view. But I probably said enough that he'll avoid setting off that particular powder keg again.

And we'll just save it for therapy that I still miss him. (Shut UP, I don't KNOW. He told me I "claim dysfunction and use it to explain away being wrong," so...yeah, dibs on that. I was crazy, I thought we were friends -- I was wrong. I'm basically Clarissa right now.)

Oddly, I think I'll relax about all this around Valentine's Day, since that'll be about 6 weeks. I'll aim to spend that day finally unclenched, hopefully in more ways than one, with a movie, a glass of wine, my bombass lasagna, and an obscene quantity of really good chocolate. Ideally with a man under me as well, but I think it'll be a decent day either way. Me and my Valentine "Serenity" -- in all the ways. Shiny.

Paging Stuart Smalley

This post started one way, but took a wrong exit to a place in my head I visit sometimes. It usually passes within a day, and then I'm back to at least a marginally normal self-image.

I went on vacation in part to get some perspective, maybe achieve sudden clarity via Southwest Airlines party mix.

I did, but not as much as I'd like.

But I did realize I can't meet this guy I'd been talking to on OkCupid. We'd talked about meeting once I got back, but I realized I'm not feeling a connection, at least not yet. I have pretty good instincts for that, though, so possibly not ever. (This has also happened with two other OKC people.)

I feel bad, but even though That Guy felt nothing for me except my clitoris, that whole debacle helped me remember how I feel when *I* feel a spark with someone, even if it's not mutual. My ex, too -- I felt that in my gut and in my butt, and I'm not feeling it for these OKC people. Whatever the issues, my interactions with That Guy and my ex set a standard for what I need to feel and how I need to be treated.

I know I have to move on eventually. I just don't think I'll be able to, or should, until I feel something more compelling -- I don't need to be in love, I just need to feel a chemistry.

I wondered if I should meet that OKC guy just to interact with a man in a potentially romantic capacity, the way I used to go on job interviews for practice. But I don't want to make anyone my practice. Having BEEN used fairly recently, I can't do it to someone else. (Though I hear it's effective.)

I may still be too damaged for this. I can't tell if I'm really not ready, or just scared.

I already wasn't feeling the best about myself when my ex and I broke up. I asked him why he was even with me, what I'd contributed to our relationship, and why he'd want to have children with me. He explained the kid thing, but wouldn't tell me why he'd been with me. He said I should know. I still don't. I believed he loved me. I believe he still does. I just don't know why. (The best I can come up with is that I let him have his own space and his own time, and never made him watch "The Notebook.")

Following that, That Guy made me feel smart, sexy, and funny...buuut then told me he never really thought any of that. Well, I guess the "sexy" part was true -- as indicators go, his constant erection in my presence was probably a good one. 

When I thought he cared about me, I spent time with him thinking, "Pfft...I'm amazing." He said my confidence showed, that I owned my business in the bedroom, that I was funny and a good writer -- he was one of the reasons I kept writing this blog. And then he was like, "Ha ha, just kidding, you're none of those things."

So I'm not enough to keep one man if I don't want to have a baby, and not enough to keep the other guy because...I guess maybe I'm NOT the person he made me feel like I was.

Plus there have also been professional aspects where I wasn't good enough to do one job or another, and a general feeling with my family that I'm just not worth being heard.

So... I don't know what I'm doing now. I know it's called SELF-esteem, but mine's been knocked around a lot the past few years. I don't know if I've ever considered how deep-seated all this is, and I see the therapist partly because I don't know how to fix it myself. I have friends who, if they're reading it, would punch me in the neck for thinking any of this. I don't ALWAYS feel this way, but when I do, people can tell me whatever good things they want, I just can't see it for myself.

Ahem... Why, what do YOU think about on vacation?

P.S. Next post, I promise, back to OkCupid snark, Valentine's rage, masturbation, and the feminism of bath sponges.

I'm probably not the only crazy person on OkCupid.

Oh, OK. So I can be messaging back and forth with a perfectly nice guy from OkCupid, and inadvertently say something that reminds me of my ex, then of That Guy, then back to my ex, and now I'm crying?

Sure, yeah -- I am absolutely ready to be dating, even casually. It will not end badly at all. 

I understand this is how I move on, and I'm sure a time will come when it doesn't feel like cheating, but...not so far. 

I could blame PMS, but I think I might just be ready to embrace my obvious destiny to die sexless and alone.

We'll just add this to the therapy list. That woman is earning her money.

Weight Loss, Crypt Keeper, Trainwreck, Lipstick, and "La-di-da"

A while back I asked y'all to come kick me if I didn't lose some weight, because my clothes didn't fit anymore and I hate shopping.

Turns out all I needed was a (prescription) drug that fucks up my appetite and makes me so thirsty I drink tons of water and always feel full, plus family, friend, and boy issues. I'm running on bananas, almonds, and kettle chips because that's all my body is accepting.

I feel like hell, I get wobbly, and my face looks like The Crypt Keeper, but I lost 5 lbs in one spectacular shitshow of a week.

I spent most of the past 2 days in bed (took a sick day yesterday), but eventually getting up, cleaning my house, then cleaning ME. It's remarkable how an irresponsibly hot shower and clean sheets can improve your outlook. (Plus watching "Trainwreck" again.)

I am going to be fine.

We're good, now, right, Brain? My family is still fucked, but you'll let me pine for just the ONE guy (the one who's actually worth even a passing thought)? And my friends are OK? And we'll be more mindful of eating at least enough that standing isn't so challenging and daylight doesn't hurt our eyes?

Right, then. Onward. Lipstick. Sushi. Power song!

New Year, resolution

I guess once you've told someone, "You're a coward, a liar, and an asshole, and I'm sorry I ever met you"...That's probably closure, right? 

I couldn't even cry, I was just so tired. I sent the email and then sat there like, "Huh. OK, so that's that, then." (I mean, I'm not thrilled, but...)

He responded implying I'm being petty, like, "I'll refrain from name calling, but that's wonderful, thanks" was part of it.

Umm...you're welcome. And I dare you to call me any name I haven't already called myself. 

Crazy slut? Pfft. I have that shit engraved in one of those nameplate necklaces. It's on my resumé.

Clingy, desperate? I'll own that. It wasn't my finest behavior, but I learned from it.

Resentful? Bitter? Probably. But part of re-gutting myself was to get past this permanently. Plus it's been so long that it's hard to really resent some...ghost of a person you never really knew, who exists only in some hazy online ether now. It'd be like hating that money-grubbing Nigerian prince.

During our...whatever, I asked numerous times if he had the same feelings for me. I probably would've been able to infer he didn't if he and I had a standard romantic relationship. But we'd started as friends and always agreed we wanted to stay friends. So my brain went blurry, because a friend would never knowingly let things happen the way they did -- they would've leveled with me. (I've done it before. It sucked, but the friendship survived.) 

But I had to give up knowing; it was hurting me too much. So I went about assuming it was over, accepting that, and letting him be.

But then his blog likes, Facebook friend request, and LinkedIn profile checkup started grating on me, like, "OK, what are you doing?" Then came his invitation to discuss things he'd seen me writing about him here. So we discussed -- argued, really, via email. But I got my answer: He never felt the same way, and finally told me directly.

SO. Not the answer I wanted, but an answer, one I knew was possible. It's what I'd guessed, but was never 100% sure. I always told him I'd feel better if he just said it (he never would, either out of kindness or desire to keep me hooked), and I do feel better. Part of my mental reaction was, "THANK YOU. Christ, was that so hard?!" But it would've been easier, and we'd still be friends, if he'd said it sooner. 

I can't know how the discussion affected him (I'd guess just relief I finally stopped talking). I'm...partly bummed I was so spectacularly wrong about truly knowing him, and honestly, that I'll never get to have sex with him. (Don't judge me -- I REALLY wanted to. It would've been great, to the point that I probably still would if he tried, which is pretty fucked up so I'm happy it's not an option.) But I'm also relieved I have my answer, and that I got to say what I needed to. (Sad truth? I still don't entirely believe him. But I'll get there.)

It sucks we imploded a friendship, because I really valued him that way more than romantically, but he acknowledged the friendship wasn't much reciprocated, either. And the longer I was left wondering, realizing I'd started being hurt by our conversations more than I was enjoying them, that I'd ended up feeling dirty and used, and that he didn't miss me even as a friend, the easier it was to let go of that as well. 

Clinger karma

I feel bad getting over a guy I haven't met just by reading his texts, but... You gave such good OkCupid messages -- how do you text like an asshole?

WORDS. JESUS.

Crap... I'm Mr. Heckles, aren't I?

I told him politely that text-speak makes me twitchy, which is IN my OkC profile. He said that's how he texts because he doesn't have a smartphone, and, "i hate texting all together but im paying my dues until we can meet."

Yeah, I'm out. I'd told him I was trying to relax after this week sucked the life out of me, but for every text I sent, he sent three. The last time it was five. 

Listen, the rule about buttsex also applies to you being in my ass with poorly punctuated texts.

He asked if text speak bugged me THAT much. It does. But combined with you sending five texts with no response, and referring to getting to know each other a BIT via messaging so I'd feel safe meeting in person as "paying my dues?" Oh, sorry I won't just meet a strange man from the Internet who can't leave me alone for a day. 

I've behaved this way, I know, so this is karmic payback. I was clingy with That Guy; I knew it at the time and have considered in hindsight how irritating it must have been. But since then it's also happened to me with guys I've dated/talked to online, and now I'm a reformed Clinger. It's the WORST, and I'm no longer tolerant or indulgent of it. I admit I can be obsessive, but I work very hard not to burden others with it. (You people notwithstanding. You subscribe, that's on you.)

Wow, I'm even the wrong kind of asshole.

I emailed him back, because I am an idiot. He'd clarified some things, so I wanted to do the same.

Aaand it turned out exactly as I thought it would.

One day I will learn to listen to my friends and just be an asshole when the situation calls for it, which is what I think he wanted -- for me to keep quiet and stay away.

But there it is. "The cold never bothered me, anyway."

P.S. Fun fact: Gmail's "block" feature is apparently about as useless as Facebook's. Technology can kiss my dick.

P.P.S. Sorry, I'll take the weekend off and stop buzzkilling your news feeds.

Kelly Bundy, Kimmy Schmidt, and the "Grey's Anatomy" method of avoidance.

Wow. WordPress readers really love my anxiety, don't they?

More years ago than I care to consider, there was a show called Married with Children that probably wouldn't make it in today's infinitely-more-PC TV landscape. I remember people being offended by it at the time, but it was the late '80s/early '90s and most people didn't give a fuck.

So there was the dumb blonde bimbo daughter, Kelly (Christina Applegate). She's more appealing than her sports-fan father, so she goes on a sports trivia show in his place. But she knows nothing about sports, so he fills her brain with trivia before the show, and for every sports fact she absorbs, a bit of basic life knowledge leaves her brain, rendering her dumbstruck (seen here) when asked to recall everyday knowledge. 

That's where I am right now. For every bit of bullshit my brain has encountered this week, I've lost knowledge and patience. This morning I stood in the shower with conditioner on my hair, and for just a second completely blanked on what the next step was. And I just snapped at my brother because he's being a fucking asshole. (Though I do kind of love it when I finally give up on trying to be polite and just say what I'm thinking.)

Family issues, friend concerns, medication that's ruining my appetite and dehydrating me, not sleeping, and additional things with That Guy, all in those 3 days of spiked blog stats... I'm out. I spent my workday NOT FUCKING WORKING, but rather ensnared in a texting clusterfuck with aforementioned brother.

Also, I know my friends love me and will listen to me, but I'm sick of being the Needy Friend -- they've heard a LOT this week, I sent a goddamn list. (Subject line: "No advice needed; just FYI, everything is fucked.") I've talked to friends, a therapist, my personal journal, and you people. I am tired of thinking and talking about my fucking feelings. I'm not even upset, per se -- I just want to go home and sit there for a week or so and not talk to anyone or think about anything. Maybe just spend the whole week re-watching all of Grey's Anatomy in my pajamas.

So yeah. I'm currently at a Bundy Brain grade 4. I'm gonna pull a reverse Kimmy Schmidt and put my ass into the doomsday bunker.

The Curious Incident of my Ability to Obsess

I promise I have other topics for later today, but in the meantime I'll need one of you to come tie my hands together so I don't end up responding to That Guy's email to ask if he wrote me solely because he saw the "closure" post the other day.*

It's TOO big a coincidence to be anything else.

And with that, fuck this. I have awesome to be. (Let's see if that posturing is effective.)

*If you need to make the hand tying kinky, though, I can probably work with that. 

EDIT: Crisis averted! Never underestimate the healing powers of red lipstick, great hair, coffee, and music. (Bruno Mars, "Uptown Funk" and The Band Perry, "Done," if you wondered.)

Breathing. Breathing. Breathing.

The other day I wrote about That Guy, how I can't block his email address without an existing email, but I'd deleted all his emails, emptied the trash, and sent in a sweeper in case there were any stragglers.

So obviously today I get an email from him saying he'd been going through some books and found two I'd loaned him a million years ago, wanting to make arrangements to return them. (By mail or go-between. Not by seeing me in person. Don't be absurd -- you save "in person" for people you give a fuck about, right?)

So he either saw the post, because he follows this page on Tumblr, or he just happened to have emailed me. I really don't know which.

Also, if he saw it, part of the post was: "There was comfort in the idea of closure, because there'd be no more worrying about letting my guard down when checking email — let’s be honest, stupidly half-hoping I’d ever be worth more than a drunk-texted apology at 3 a.m."

So...if we're going to assume he's seen it, the underlying message of that email is that I'm NOT worth more than that.

So I guess it's a good thing I'm heading to therapy in a half hour, yeah? 

Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. I am, like, 150 times stronger than this.

Putting the "act" in "disappearing act"

Snag in one of my new life goals: Turns out you can't block a phone number or email address unless you have an existing text or an email from the person you're blocking.

It's been maybe 6 months since I apparently VERY thoroughly deleted all that in an attempt at mental feng shui.

It's also been about 6 months since this was even an issue, so I probably don't NEED to do it. I was just going for a Rachel-Green-style "And THAT, my friend, is what they call CLOSURE." (I realize that's a bad metaphor; that turned out a lot differently than this is likely going to.)

And there was comfort in the idea, because there wouldn't be anymore worrying about letting my guard down when checking texts or emails -- let's be honest, stupidly half-hoping I'd ever be worth more than a drunk-texted apology at 3 a.m.

I'd have disappeared, so my brain could be all, "WHAT?! Come at me, bro!" [/Jersey]

Alternately: "Nyah, nyah, you can't get me!" [/inner child]