(no subject)
Happy Valentine's Day to me.
I got some chocolate this year...
...from my dad.
I would celebrate Quirky Alone day, except there's this stipulation that you have to enjoy being alone.
You know, it's amazing how every time I hear about something Nick's told my mom at one point in time, I get more pissed at how fucking ridiculous his expectations for me were.
"Well, he said, basically, that you need a backbone--that you could've been a little more jealous."
God damn it, what kind of fucked up set of morals do you have? You wanted me to cat fight with Liz, eh? I did mention afterwards how I felt about it to her in a reasonable manner, she apologized, it was fine. But no, I was supposed to react while being stabbed in the heart. Last time I checked, people are very rarely capable of fighting back in that situation, but whatever Nick, since I am, after all, fucking SO mature and "better" than you, so strong, I could pull it off. I'm not just a kid who has no idea what the hell she's doing; I know EVERYTHING, I can do EVERYTHING. Somehow I feel like that entire ordeal at the party was a test I didn't, and couldn't, study for. I guess I failed.
Asshole.
Yeah, I know you're going to read this. Why? Because that's how fucking petty you are. You betrayed me, and Liz betrayed me. I can forgive Liz, she actually apologized for the right reason. But you haven't the slightest idea just what, I'm hurt about, just what I'm angry about. Because you're an idiot. Because after all this time you still don't know a damn thing about who I am. I bet you don't even remember what my favorite flowers are. I never meant quite that much.
For my analysis:
"I *do* still hurt from what happened when you broke up with me. You broke my heart that night, and I don't think I've completely recovered."
And yet you didn't bother to take five bloody minutes to find this out BEFORE you jumped right back in with me? You didn't even have the consideration to take my advice of waiting seriously. How do you think that makes me feel?
When I broke up with you, it was for your happiness. I know it hurt, but my reasons weren't selfish save for me (well-founded) fear of your resentment. Here's the difference--I "broke up" with you. You "dumped" me. Not only that, but you left me with false hope. Now, Nick, this is where I get the idea that I wasn't terribly high on your priority list. After all this time, you should know there are a few things I don't tolerate: Lying, pity, and false hope. In this case, you committed all three at once. You KNEW you wouldn't come back to me, but you still acted 'lovey-dovey.' 1) That's lying because your intent wasn't really that you felt that way--I have no idea myself why the hell you would do that to anyone. 2) That's pity because chances are you were feeling like telling me immediately would be too harsh, and oh no. 3) If you don't know how that was false hope, Nick, you truly are the most thick-headed, petty cretin I've ever met.
"I've dipped a little into the pool known as sex. Just a little. I'm still a virgin, so don't get any ideas, but...it is something I am going to want, sometime in my life."
I don't know how you thought this statement wouldn't make me worth less than sex to you.
That night when you talked to me about your relationship issues with Liz,--and god damn it, what the fuck gave you the bright idea of talking to ME, of all people, about it?--you sat there saying, "it's just not worth it." You know, I had interpretted that repeated statement as, "sex isn't worth as much as love, and chances are the only reason I'm saying this is to make it clear that you're more important than my physical relationship with Liz, and I'd rather she be more emotional." Oh, look, more false hope! Really, that meant, "you're not quite worth a relationship with it."
You really ought to know that I'm at least a little bit sensitive that the rest of the world is absolutely OBSESSED with this act, when to me it's nothing but an act. The fact that nearly everyone couldn't be with the person they are if there was no sex means to me that everyone's love is a farce. It's like saying, "I couldn't be with you if you didn't give me chocolate everyday, and some days it has to be the expensive kind." Adding that to your e-mail was pretty damn stupid if your intent was to lessen the ache in it.
And, you realize, my chances of finding someone that I could love and not have many beefs with are miniscule, right? Don't fucking act like I can just move on to someone else and that relationship will work just fine. When I was younger, twelve-ish, I accepted the idea that I would be stuck with the ugliest, stupidest, most outcasted and disgusting pervert in the school. Now, I don't even have that much, because the lonely girl who is sexual will end up with that guy.
It took sixteen years until I loved someone, actually loved them. Let's say for shits'n'giggles that I've met 1,000 people in that space of time. That's 1/1000, a 0.1% chance.
1% of the pop is considered asexual, generously so. Half that, 0.5%, are romantic. Less than half that, 45% of 0.5%, are male, hacking that down to 0.225% of that 0.1% chance.
Using only these stipulations, I now have a 0.000225% chance. That's slightly better than 1 out of every 50,000 people. Oh, but we're forgetting something important here--the chance that I'll even meet them. So let's take that 1/1000, and be certain that we have the 1000/6.5 billion.
No, Nick, I don't think finding the "perfect guy" will be that easy. You really should have done the right thing and dropped me like a rock when you decided you didn't care that much, rather than give me all these bullshit reasons that I deserve better out of pity.
There's my backbone, damn it. Go ahead, rip out the nerves, I won't mind.
I got some chocolate this year...
...from my dad.
I would celebrate Quirky Alone day, except there's this stipulation that you have to enjoy being alone.
You know, it's amazing how every time I hear about something Nick's told my mom at one point in time, I get more pissed at how fucking ridiculous his expectations for me were.
"Well, he said, basically, that you need a backbone--that you could've been a little more jealous."
God damn it, what kind of fucked up set of morals do you have? You wanted me to cat fight with Liz, eh? I did mention afterwards how I felt about it to her in a reasonable manner, she apologized, it was fine. But no, I was supposed to react while being stabbed in the heart. Last time I checked, people are very rarely capable of fighting back in that situation, but whatever Nick, since I am, after all, fucking SO mature and "better" than you, so strong, I could pull it off. I'm not just a kid who has no idea what the hell she's doing; I know EVERYTHING, I can do EVERYTHING. Somehow I feel like that entire ordeal at the party was a test I didn't, and couldn't, study for. I guess I failed.
Asshole.
Yeah, I know you're going to read this. Why? Because that's how fucking petty you are. You betrayed me, and Liz betrayed me. I can forgive Liz, she actually apologized for the right reason. But you haven't the slightest idea just what, I'm hurt about, just what I'm angry about. Because you're an idiot. Because after all this time you still don't know a damn thing about who I am. I bet you don't even remember what my favorite flowers are. I never meant quite that much.
For my analysis:
"I *do* still hurt from what happened when you broke up with me. You broke my heart that night, and I don't think I've completely recovered."
And yet you didn't bother to take five bloody minutes to find this out BEFORE you jumped right back in with me? You didn't even have the consideration to take my advice of waiting seriously. How do you think that makes me feel?
When I broke up with you, it was for your happiness. I know it hurt, but my reasons weren't selfish save for me (well-founded) fear of your resentment. Here's the difference--I "broke up" with you. You "dumped" me. Not only that, but you left me with false hope. Now, Nick, this is where I get the idea that I wasn't terribly high on your priority list. After all this time, you should know there are a few things I don't tolerate: Lying, pity, and false hope. In this case, you committed all three at once. You KNEW you wouldn't come back to me, but you still acted 'lovey-dovey.' 1) That's lying because your intent wasn't really that you felt that way--I have no idea myself why the hell you would do that to anyone. 2) That's pity because chances are you were feeling like telling me immediately would be too harsh, and oh no. 3) If you don't know how that was false hope, Nick, you truly are the most thick-headed, petty cretin I've ever met.
"I've dipped a little into the pool known as sex. Just a little. I'm still a virgin, so don't get any ideas, but...it is something I am going to want, sometime in my life."
I don't know how you thought this statement wouldn't make me worth less than sex to you.
That night when you talked to me about your relationship issues with Liz,--and god damn it, what the fuck gave you the bright idea of talking to ME, of all people, about it?--you sat there saying, "it's just not worth it." You know, I had interpretted that repeated statement as, "sex isn't worth as much as love, and chances are the only reason I'm saying this is to make it clear that you're more important than my physical relationship with Liz, and I'd rather she be more emotional." Oh, look, more false hope! Really, that meant, "you're not quite worth a relationship with it."
You really ought to know that I'm at least a little bit sensitive that the rest of the world is absolutely OBSESSED with this act, when to me it's nothing but an act. The fact that nearly everyone couldn't be with the person they are if there was no sex means to me that everyone's love is a farce. It's like saying, "I couldn't be with you if you didn't give me chocolate everyday, and some days it has to be the expensive kind." Adding that to your e-mail was pretty damn stupid if your intent was to lessen the ache in it.
And, you realize, my chances of finding someone that I could love and not have many beefs with are miniscule, right? Don't fucking act like I can just move on to someone else and that relationship will work just fine. When I was younger, twelve-ish, I accepted the idea that I would be stuck with the ugliest, stupidest, most outcasted and disgusting pervert in the school. Now, I don't even have that much, because the lonely girl who is sexual will end up with that guy.
It took sixteen years until I loved someone, actually loved them. Let's say for shits'n'giggles that I've met 1,000 people in that space of time. That's 1/1000, a 0.1% chance.
1% of the pop is considered asexual, generously so. Half that, 0.5%, are romantic. Less than half that, 45% of 0.5%, are male, hacking that down to 0.225% of that 0.1% chance.
Using only these stipulations, I now have a 0.000225% chance. That's slightly better than 1 out of every 50,000 people. Oh, but we're forgetting something important here--the chance that I'll even meet them. So let's take that 1/1000, and be certain that we have the 1000/6.5 billion.
No, Nick, I don't think finding the "perfect guy" will be that easy. You really should have done the right thing and dropped me like a rock when you decided you didn't care that much, rather than give me all these bullshit reasons that I deserve better out of pity.
There's my backbone, damn it. Go ahead, rip out the nerves, I won't mind.