Update, and epiphany!
Well, I figure it’s time for an actual update instead of cryptic writings that nobody but me really gets.
Well, I had a “thing” (For lack of a better word) with one of my very best friends while she was still dating someone else. I was really enamored and a bit naïve, despite warnings from just about everyone on the damn planet, but I kept with it for a while. After her boyfriend found out a lot about it, they had fights about it and other issues, and they eventually reconciled. At which point, I was no longer needed, and was shown the door via refusal to return phone calls. There’s some hints you just pick up on, and I knew my time was through.
It bothered me at first a bit. It didn’t bother me a lot that she picked someone else over me; that shit happens, it’s life. Some things aren’t meant to work out and this was one of them. No, what bothered me most of all was that my phone calls were ignored and I felt estranged from a really good friend of mine. It was like being fired from a job by your best friend, and they didn’t tell you, but let you figure it out when you weren’t on payroll. I got over it fairly quickly and actually looked back on it like the old “Better to have loved and lost” adage. As short as the time was, she taught me a few very important things about myself (Namely, that I’m not a hideous fucking shut-in) and gave me a faint sprinkle of self-esteem. Even though she’s gone now, I’ve retained those things. But anyway…
Then, I was talkin’ to another friend of mine about the situation. I wasn’t too bitter about it, it had been a couple of days and due to my intensive weightlifting routine and biking, getting upset about much of anything was tantamount to impossible. However, she said 3 little words that pissed me off to no end.
”She used you.”
It had never dawned on me until then, oddly enough. It seemed to make perfect sense; I was used to get her boyfriend to shape-up and once he did, I was quietly disposed of. I haven’t been that angry in a while; I couldn’t stop doing bench presses for about an hour, and even when I started dropping the bar on my chest, I was still livid. I actually had to write about it, which is where the :wHoRE: entry came from.
But now, it doesn’t bother me again. It actually makes me happy to think that I’ve either matured to the point that I’m not letting everything drag me into the gutter for prolonged periods of time, or that I’ve simply managed to stop giving a shit. Either way, it ends with the same thing.
Though, I’m still wondering what’s left of her and I, friendship or anything else for that matter. I doubt much, because all I’d do is complicate her situation even more, which isn’t my goal. I’ve basically stopped talking to her because (Aside from thinking she doesn’t much care) I feel as if I’d make that situation worse, even if only friends again.
That leads me to an epiphany I had today. I was hangin’ out with a totally radtacular chica most of the day, came home, and started my exercise routine, and let my thoughts drift with my headphones blasting.
Love isn’t enough to make things work. It’s a requisite for a relationship, but there’s so much fucking more. There’s so many other little subtle nuances that make it fit, and if they don’t match up, it’s gonna cause problems.
I used to look at those problems and put the onus on myself. I figured it was my fault for being weird and that I should just shut up, and eventually it’d vanish, or eventually I’d stop caring. Due to my reinvention (Still in progress folks) I’m looking at it a lot differently.
It’s not my fault anymore. I don’t need to get used to some things about other people; no, rather, they need to change or get the fuck out of my life. If I don’t like something, it’s not my fault; it’s their fault. If there’s something about you that I really, really don’t like, I’m not gonna shut the fuck up, I’mma show you the door. It spares the giant fight 6 months down the road.
(Note: This isn’t to say that one shouldn’t be accepting of some things, but of other things, nah, fuck that)
I think I’m starting to have self-esteem, and it feels good. Working out is making my arms a lot more defined, and it’s keeping me in a really fucking good mood. I feel like I’m growing a lot, and man, despite the lady-friend-thing-mentioned-above, I’m starting to be really happy for the first time in a while. Massive shout-outs go to Luke, Nando, and Roya for not telling me to STFU through the rage and depression, Andy for helping me with my workout routine which is now showing promising results, and to Mike, Shaun, and Dustin for little words of wisdom. It’s much appreciated, amigos.
Well, I had a “thing” (For lack of a better word) with one of my very best friends while she was still dating someone else. I was really enamored and a bit naïve, despite warnings from just about everyone on the damn planet, but I kept with it for a while. After her boyfriend found out a lot about it, they had fights about it and other issues, and they eventually reconciled. At which point, I was no longer needed, and was shown the door via refusal to return phone calls. There’s some hints you just pick up on, and I knew my time was through.
It bothered me at first a bit. It didn’t bother me a lot that she picked someone else over me; that shit happens, it’s life. Some things aren’t meant to work out and this was one of them. No, what bothered me most of all was that my phone calls were ignored and I felt estranged from a really good friend of mine. It was like being fired from a job by your best friend, and they didn’t tell you, but let you figure it out when you weren’t on payroll. I got over it fairly quickly and actually looked back on it like the old “Better to have loved and lost” adage. As short as the time was, she taught me a few very important things about myself (Namely, that I’m not a hideous fucking shut-in) and gave me a faint sprinkle of self-esteem. Even though she’s gone now, I’ve retained those things. But anyway…
Then, I was talkin’ to another friend of mine about the situation. I wasn’t too bitter about it, it had been a couple of days and due to my intensive weightlifting routine and biking, getting upset about much of anything was tantamount to impossible. However, she said 3 little words that pissed me off to no end.
”She used you.”
It had never dawned on me until then, oddly enough. It seemed to make perfect sense; I was used to get her boyfriend to shape-up and once he did, I was quietly disposed of. I haven’t been that angry in a while; I couldn’t stop doing bench presses for about an hour, and even when I started dropping the bar on my chest, I was still livid. I actually had to write about it, which is where the :wHoRE: entry came from.
But now, it doesn’t bother me again. It actually makes me happy to think that I’ve either matured to the point that I’m not letting everything drag me into the gutter for prolonged periods of time, or that I’ve simply managed to stop giving a shit. Either way, it ends with the same thing.
Though, I’m still wondering what’s left of her and I, friendship or anything else for that matter. I doubt much, because all I’d do is complicate her situation even more, which isn’t my goal. I’ve basically stopped talking to her because (Aside from thinking she doesn’t much care) I feel as if I’d make that situation worse, even if only friends again.
That leads me to an epiphany I had today. I was hangin’ out with a totally radtacular chica most of the day, came home, and started my exercise routine, and let my thoughts drift with my headphones blasting.
Love isn’t enough to make things work. It’s a requisite for a relationship, but there’s so much fucking more. There’s so many other little subtle nuances that make it fit, and if they don’t match up, it’s gonna cause problems.
I used to look at those problems and put the onus on myself. I figured it was my fault for being weird and that I should just shut up, and eventually it’d vanish, or eventually I’d stop caring. Due to my reinvention (Still in progress folks) I’m looking at it a lot differently.
It’s not my fault anymore. I don’t need to get used to some things about other people; no, rather, they need to change or get the fuck out of my life. If I don’t like something, it’s not my fault; it’s their fault. If there’s something about you that I really, really don’t like, I’m not gonna shut the fuck up, I’mma show you the door. It spares the giant fight 6 months down the road.
(Note: This isn’t to say that one shouldn’t be accepting of some things, but of other things, nah, fuck that)
I think I’m starting to have self-esteem, and it feels good. Working out is making my arms a lot more defined, and it’s keeping me in a really fucking good mood. I feel like I’m growing a lot, and man, despite the lady-friend-thing-mentioned-above, I’m starting to be really happy for the first time in a while. Massive shout-outs go to Luke, Nando, and Roya for not telling me to STFU through the rage and depression, Andy for helping me with my workout routine which is now showing promising results, and to Mike, Shaun, and Dustin for little words of wisdom. It’s much appreciated, amigos.