That's that
Well the roommate came home tonight drunk- escstatic about a girl who he knew back in highschool who he reconnected with online this past Thursday and another girl he has liked for awhile, who is recently single again, and was flirting with him tonight at the bar where he was. And he wants to get my take on the whole situation. He wants me to talk about it with him. He makes it VERY clear that it's important he hears what I think about it. He keeps asking me if I think he's a good person. I tell him I can't keep pumping him up- I've told him a dozen times that I think he's a lovely guy. I can't say it anymore. I am done. I couldn't hack it. I ended up blurting it out. That I couldn't talk to him about this as I could only sit here wishing he was talking of me the way he talks of them...these women who are SO polarly opposite to myself that I am already sure he doesn't feel the same way- because how can he when I am nothing like the lean blonde he showed me photos of just a day ago? The rest of my confession was approximately 4 or 5 well chosen sentences. It actually went bizarrely well with the bottom line being that he doesn't have romantic feelings for me. At first it didn't actually hurt- and now it does. Although on the bright side- it's nothing if not final.
I am feeling simultaneously free and sick. I have had a bit of a cry- less than I imagined I would have had. Although- just as I say that I've totally started that horrible uncontrolable snotty weeping. I want to know why none of the men I like feel the same way- and why the men I don't give a damn for- always seem to like me. There have been a few occasions where feelings have been mutual- but then those fade quickly in the big scheme of things. WHAT am I doing wrong? I am becoming more and more convinced as the years go by that I am in fact, unlovable, and that everything that has happened to me has made me too hard to love,too complicated, too confusing- or a million other things I can't put my finger on but which I know effect my personality in some detrimental way. In a way that somehow keeps me from being the right candidate. I really want to believe that my history and how I deal with things because of that history actually make me JUST the sort of woman I man looks at and goes- you know what- she'd be able to stick with me through thick and thin- she'd be able to handle things- she's solid. Sharp. I want that one. She's amazing. LOOK how amazing she is....But it doesn't unfortunately. I feel like I shouldn't even BOTHER thinking about men until they show that they are thinking of me- THEN I can choose between them. As it's becoming clear that I obviously can't seem to pick anyone on my own accord and have it be reciprocated.
As much as this is wrecking my head- and is making me so utterly sad- I am also glad I know- because now I don't have to wonder what his actions mean anymore. I won't be able to read into anything he does anymore. I said at one point- "Just tell me you don't like me if you don't- don't spare my feelings because if you don't like me and you tell me....then at least I can get past it."
He didn't want to talk about it-didn't want to give an answer- he outright tried to change the subject-talked about packing bags for his trip to Australia on Sunday- which I told him wasn't right- He couldn't just blow this off- that he needed to just deal with this now so it could be done with. I could describe all the nuance involved- how he really didn't know what to say- how I think even after I told him I wanted the cold hard truth he still tried to say it in a soft way. Saying he was glad I liked him because then he KNEW it meant he was a good person. I feel like a fool, I am glad I know-but all the same-I feel like a fool. Just another case of me liking a man who loves me so much and yet does not love me. I am SICK to death of men loving me so much, caring about what I think of them, wanting to know my opinion on everything- but not wanting me as their partner. I don't want it anymore.
It's the sort of thing that motivates a woman to loose 80lbs, grow her hair out- slowly transform herself into something irresitable- because she knows she could- the foundation is there. Do all that just so he can fall in love with her and she can deny him. Deny him even though she still may want him- Deny him because she has to- because if he didn't want her before- he shouldn't want her in her new form. That his acting that way would be him failing some terrible but undisputable character test. I am certain absolutely CERTAIN of the fact that if I looked more like these women he is interested in- I wouldn't be sitting here in my dining room at 3:00am crying my eyes out. That things would be much like they are with this girl from his past- and that girl from Charlie's....or any other the other women he puts up on a pedestal but never actually gets to know. Overall it makes me angry in a way I can't even express- because to begin to express it would mean I'd have to start smashing things.
During all of this writing I hear him come down from the third floor- shuffle down the hall and go into the bathroom to pee. I can hear everything- every little sound above me- which surprises me and makes me realize he must have heard me crying. I am afraid that he might come down to the first floor where I am right now- that there will be no way to explain my red face and puffy eyes. But he doesn't come down- he shuffles back upstairs. And then I wonder what kind of person he is...to care about someone...and not be able to face them when you know they are ripped up downstairs over you....even if you are tired and uncomfortable. And maybe I need to be happy about the fact that he doesn't have romantic feelings for me since I know the kind of man I would want WOULD come downstairs and face being berated. The man I would want would sacrifice his comfort to let the person say what they need to say. The way I sacrifice my comfort just before he went to bed and he says he is confused about the two girls- and right away I say I know exactly who he will go for- the bar girl- and that he should write her from Australia and tell her he's thinking of her.
Because of course I know who he will choose. And I am right because he's predictable and I know him pretty well. Having gotten to know him is what got me into this predicament in the first place. And how can I not tell him what to do- what will work- what will get him his desired result? I have to tell him, give him the absolution to go try to get what he wants or I don't continue being the person I am striving to be.
And I thank my lucky stars that he works tomorrow, and that tomorrow afternoon I am heading to Watertown to sleep over a friends place- which oddly enough was preplanned days before all this- that it is a conveniant escape is just the gravy. That this trip on Saturday night to a friends place will be followed by a Sunday trip out of town with this same friend and that by the time I get back to our house in Dorchester he will probably already be on his way to the Southern Hemisphere.
I am feeling simultaneously free and sick. I have had a bit of a cry- less than I imagined I would have had. Although- just as I say that I've totally started that horrible uncontrolable snotty weeping. I want to know why none of the men I like feel the same way- and why the men I don't give a damn for- always seem to like me. There have been a few occasions where feelings have been mutual- but then those fade quickly in the big scheme of things. WHAT am I doing wrong? I am becoming more and more convinced as the years go by that I am in fact, unlovable, and that everything that has happened to me has made me too hard to love,too complicated, too confusing- or a million other things I can't put my finger on but which I know effect my personality in some detrimental way. In a way that somehow keeps me from being the right candidate. I really want to believe that my history and how I deal with things because of that history actually make me JUST the sort of woman I man looks at and goes- you know what- she'd be able to stick with me through thick and thin- she'd be able to handle things- she's solid. Sharp. I want that one. She's amazing. LOOK how amazing she is....But it doesn't unfortunately. I feel like I shouldn't even BOTHER thinking about men until they show that they are thinking of me- THEN I can choose between them. As it's becoming clear that I obviously can't seem to pick anyone on my own accord and have it be reciprocated.
As much as this is wrecking my head- and is making me so utterly sad- I am also glad I know- because now I don't have to wonder what his actions mean anymore. I won't be able to read into anything he does anymore. I said at one point- "Just tell me you don't like me if you don't- don't spare my feelings because if you don't like me and you tell me....then at least I can get past it."
He didn't want to talk about it-didn't want to give an answer- he outright tried to change the subject-talked about packing bags for his trip to Australia on Sunday- which I told him wasn't right- He couldn't just blow this off- that he needed to just deal with this now so it could be done with. I could describe all the nuance involved- how he really didn't know what to say- how I think even after I told him I wanted the cold hard truth he still tried to say it in a soft way. Saying he was glad I liked him because then he KNEW it meant he was a good person. I feel like a fool, I am glad I know-but all the same-I feel like a fool. Just another case of me liking a man who loves me so much and yet does not love me. I am SICK to death of men loving me so much, caring about what I think of them, wanting to know my opinion on everything- but not wanting me as their partner. I don't want it anymore.
It's the sort of thing that motivates a woman to loose 80lbs, grow her hair out- slowly transform herself into something irresitable- because she knows she could- the foundation is there. Do all that just so he can fall in love with her and she can deny him. Deny him even though she still may want him- Deny him because she has to- because if he didn't want her before- he shouldn't want her in her new form. That his acting that way would be him failing some terrible but undisputable character test. I am certain absolutely CERTAIN of the fact that if I looked more like these women he is interested in- I wouldn't be sitting here in my dining room at 3:00am crying my eyes out. That things would be much like they are with this girl from his past- and that girl from Charlie's....or any other the other women he puts up on a pedestal but never actually gets to know. Overall it makes me angry in a way I can't even express- because to begin to express it would mean I'd have to start smashing things.
During all of this writing I hear him come down from the third floor- shuffle down the hall and go into the bathroom to pee. I can hear everything- every little sound above me- which surprises me and makes me realize he must have heard me crying. I am afraid that he might come down to the first floor where I am right now- that there will be no way to explain my red face and puffy eyes. But he doesn't come down- he shuffles back upstairs. And then I wonder what kind of person he is...to care about someone...and not be able to face them when you know they are ripped up downstairs over you....even if you are tired and uncomfortable. And maybe I need to be happy about the fact that he doesn't have romantic feelings for me since I know the kind of man I would want WOULD come downstairs and face being berated. The man I would want would sacrifice his comfort to let the person say what they need to say. The way I sacrifice my comfort just before he went to bed and he says he is confused about the two girls- and right away I say I know exactly who he will go for- the bar girl- and that he should write her from Australia and tell her he's thinking of her.
Because of course I know who he will choose. And I am right because he's predictable and I know him pretty well. Having gotten to know him is what got me into this predicament in the first place. And how can I not tell him what to do- what will work- what will get him his desired result? I have to tell him, give him the absolution to go try to get what he wants or I don't continue being the person I am striving to be.
And I thank my lucky stars that he works tomorrow, and that tomorrow afternoon I am heading to Watertown to sleep over a friends place- which oddly enough was preplanned days before all this- that it is a conveniant escape is just the gravy. That this trip on Saturday night to a friends place will be followed by a Sunday trip out of town with this same friend and that by the time I get back to our house in Dorchester he will probably already be on his way to the Southern Hemisphere.