2003-08-12 - 10:59 a.m.
I'm hiding a little bit. Knitting and watching movies. Doing a little better. At least this time I'm keeping my friend. Losing both last time was overwhelming. I need my friend, damnit.
Oh, and I'd like to apologize to the entire male population. Really, the bitchiness is just because I'm hurting.
“…I can still taste the salt on his lips. Those soft, soft lips and that tickly little mustache. I can still feel it, 43 years later. Like a toothbrush. He kissed me one Christmas Eve. And for one special moment my own little life was as big as I could ever want it to be. To have someone so close to you--they’re inside you, when you’re feeling small and scared and just so disappointed in yourself. And whenever I look at your father, I know how lucky my sister must be. Because he made all my dreams come true for her."
"So Leo, you tell me. How do you do it? How do you keep, keep...?"--Claudia
"Me?" (starts singing) "I pick myself up, I dust myself off, I start all over again."--Leo
--from Home for the Holidays
2003-08-11 - 9:33 p.m.
I have an announcement for the men of America.
I'm done being nice to you. I'm done being gracious and kind. I'm done telling my friends to forgive you when you screw up. I will not listen to stories about your ex-girlfriend. I will not be generous when you’re running low on cash. I will not fix breakfast in bed for you. I'm finished taking care of you at 3:00 a.m. when you have a breakdown. From now on you can expect me to be just as shitty to you as you've been to me.
I have never wanted to be one of those bitter women who sits in bars drinking whiskey and complaining about men. But jesus, what options are you leaving me? I've had all the crap I can take. One relationship ended after three years when he told me that "you're a great lay but I never took us seriously". Not even seriously enough to tell me that he had a communicable STD. I still can't figure out how I didn't catch it - god knows there was enough unprotected sex. Another relationship effectively ended when the man said, "I've been fucking her for three weeks. But I wanted to be with you the whole time. And she's not even that good in bed." Oh, well then, ok! The fact that the sex was lousy and you were thinking about me makes it ALL better. And I’m supposed to believe you that she’s a lousy lay?
During my single times, I've been on some of the worst dates in history, including with one guy who told me that I was too adventurous for him because I crossed a street against the light. Another winner was the guy who wanted me to meet his parents on the first date. But hey, maybe I should reconsider them. God know I shouldn’t set my sights too high.
I've decided to have a t-shirt made up to wear every time I go out. It's going to say, "Don't worry, I'm not good enough for you." Because apparently I'm not. If I am, why do I keep getting tossed out with the dishwater? And each time something crappy has happened, do you know what stupid me has done? I’ve made sure that they were okay. I’ve called them later and said, “are you all right?” Because I knew that they would be having a tough time. Tonight for the first time I asked the person signing me off, "what's wrong with me?" And he couldn't come up with anything. Or couldn't bear to tell me the truth. And even now I’m thinking that I shouldn’t write this because it’ll make him feel worse. What the holy hell is wrong with me?
Come on, people. Some of you know me in the flesh. What is the problem? Do I send out “screw me over" signals? Should I stop being emotionally available? Or maybe I should just lose a bunch more weight. That’ll take care of it. Then they can dump me for not being pretty instead of having a fat ass. But of course by then I’ll have no boobs left, so my rack will be rejectable too. And don’t even try to tell me that men don’t leave because of how women look. I’ve just always tried to pick men that actually like the way I look. Stupid me.
Then there’s sex. Right now I'm tempted to go down to the closest dive bar and pick somebody up. Why make sex special? What good has that done me? It's just meant that more times than not, I end up reassuring whoever's sharing my bed that no, the problem we've just encountered is fine. Well you know what? It's not fine. I like sex and I'm good at it. If you're threatened by that, go away. Or just reject me - that seems to be the most common reaction. You’re going to do it anyway.
I know I'm going to regret this entry. All of this bitching is unattractive in many ways. And it'll probably the first time I've ever pulled a piece down after posting. But I don't know what else to do. I've been dumped fatter. I've been dumped thinner. I've been cheated on. I’ve been lied to. I’ve met someone great, had an incredible time with him, and still not been goddamn good enough. I am at my wit’s end. I’m tapped out. I cannot keep taking risks and getting shit on.
So if anybody’s got advice, let’s hear it. Please, somebody save me from being one of those leathery old women alone on a bar stool, drinking Jim Beam straight and complaining about her third husband. I need some help here.
Comments: Speak your piece!
former / latter