Tag Archives: sad

Being Involved

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(from May 7th)

Even though I’m technically not in an actual really real relationship with this guy, I’m still seeing him multiple times a week and being extremely involved in his life, and his mine. I’m starting to feel like it looks like a relationship, smells like a relationship, feels like a relationship, and even quacks like a relationship except it’s technically not officially a relationship.

Oh, the blurring of boundaries when we become involved- and decided to stop just before the point of deciding precisely what this is… Welcome to the gray areas, the neutral zone, and other uncharted waters…

Is is like when I tell customers that something isn’t supported, but it will work? Well, then who cares? It’s a label that doesn’t effect anything. It’s untested, but it works. Okay.

Is it more like when you’re told, “Oh, yeah, the cheap one works just as well,” which sometimes it doesn’t? Often times you end up losing and paying for it twice because it didn’t work.

Is this actually like Santa Clause, when you believe something even though deep down you know it’s not true. If you want it enough maybe it will make it true, but one day you realize you need to grow up and quit fooling yourself?

Is this just a bad time for a half-baked comparison?

So today we were supposed to have an “us” night and he decided he needed a “him” night to explore the question of self improvement. Specifically he wanted time to explore his inability to commit to things, him being a hermit and withdrawing rather than dealing, having a hard time figuring out what it is he really actually wants exactly, and being a sheep to his parents, society, and other forces trying to control him. So, am I the only one that thinks exploring one’s withdrawal from people is best done by canceling plans with people is incredibly funny and sad? Explore lack of commitment by breaking commitment is classic. Then, let’s turn around and say “But I really do want to see you!” and while contemplating what you actually want. Well apparently it’s not seeing me, because if it is… well… can I get a fail? If I totally wasn’t the person involved in the joke, this would be hilarious.

His big success tonight I guess was not being a sheep to me… oh, wait, I’m not trying to control him. Remember my pathetically small push for girlfriend status a few posts back? My big hard line was asking him if he thought we’d be able to maybe one day see each other exclusively, him saying no, and me saying, “Well, that sucks but okay.” Way to represent!

Do I need a night of contemplating why I’m such a sheep to certain attractive men with commitment issues?

I regress as this is really not normal for thoughts concerning the boy. Last weekend was amazing and it would take me pages to detail the amount of life I got out of a couple days with him. That’s why I’m still being patient with this. He still makes me happy when we’re together. I need to be careful and watch for the day when he makes more more anxious and the happiness begins to fray. The final option at reasonable signs outweighs waiting for the inevitable to trickle like water torture.

Normally I wouldn’t have this kind of hard line opinion, but we’re not actually in a relationship after all.

The reason he stated for not wanting to be in an actual relationship, besides just not being into me enough (these signals are so mixed, Batman is responding to calls to the Ghost Busters), is that he felt like he had not improved himself enough to be in a relationship.

I’m all for self-improvement, but I think a huge point I’ve been making right along is that life is for living and you don’t improve anything by putting living on hold. Introspection is key, but withdrawing completely from life is useless, pointless, and fruitless. I’ve done enough of it to be somewhat of an expert, and yes, small jaunts down the lane of spending a day playing a silly, pointless video game or laying in bed reading a book are great. Contemplating your situation is healthy. If you do this day in and day out to the point where it interferes with what’s really important or actually doing things, that is a big problem.

If you find yourself with this problem, don’t combat it by staying home and thinking about it. It’s like treating a wound by picking at it rather than slapping on a band-aid and letting it heal while moving on and doing other things.

The positive thing for me here is that though I got a little upset and am ranting a little, I’m handling this little rejection with little worse than a frowning emoticon, this blog post, and pointing out the illogic to him.

I mean, I could be spending tonight along side him as if I was in a relationship with him, helping him deal with his demons. Instead I’m going to go home and take care of me.

A part of me certainly wants to be along side him, but keeping this distance is probably good for my sanity.

Entering the Neutral Zone! Go to yellow alert.

The bigger, looming question of how far and how long I let this go on in this nebulous gray area is still there, but I’m not going to sit at home and pick at it.

I check in with myself from time to time, but not enough to keep myself from making a move forward. I’m going to go on with living.

Communcation Revolution: Quashed!

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“I’d love to hang out, but I need to wash my hair… all day… and until later this evening. You know, lather, rinse, and repeat? Maybe some other time.”

“But, you’re the one who said we should hang out. You even picked the day!”

“Well, I did, but that was until I got so busy with paying attention to my hair follicles. Sorry!”

This person got off light. I got a non-specific vague implication of suddenly being busy. So, I’m supposed to be sad, sit at home and eat ice cream, waiting until this person says they want to hang out again, right? Instead I make other plans.

I also let it out to a few friends who all have had a similar experiences recently.

“That happened to me the other day. So-and-so who I haven’t seen in forever calls me out of the blue and we make plans. The morning before I leave to meet her, she’s all *cough* *cough* ‘I don’t feel so well’ *cough*.”

“What’s that? It just makes you never want to have anything to do with them again.”

“Exactly. Just don’t make plans in the first place. Or tell the truth.”

“Yeah, at that point the truth is not going to have a worse effect.”

I’m a little annoyed at and confused by humanity. Why can’t people say what they mean?

It makes me feel like attempted communication with most people is useless, because there’s no actual connection being made. A bunch of words spew out, you think you are on the same page, and instead you’re a million miles apart. Every once in awhile something spectacular happens and someone actually picks up what you’re putting down. You both hold onto it, run with it, and friendships are born. With all the bullshit people say and do, it’s a minor miracle.

It’s a full out miracle when it stays for the long haul. I am lucky to have a handful of friends that fall into that category.

I’m unlucky that they don’t live close by.

I’ve been a bit hard on myself lately that I don’t have the ‘buddies’ to hang out with in this area that I once had. I haven’t lived here for over five years and people have moved, moved on, changed phone numbers, changed emails, and lost touch- sometimes even fallen out. In addition, this area of the United States of America contains people with a particular attitude on friendship and communication. I grew up here. If you want to be close, you’re clingy. If you’re open, you’re a freak. Being distant is cool. Meanwhile, in college I got used to asking friends if they wanted to go to the grocery store together. I’d get calls asking if I wanted to hang out and do laundry together. I could show up at someone’s door and call up ‘Lemme in!’ and be invited to stick around for dinner.

Life is short, and people around here are spending it being standoffish. In Maine and Virgina I became close to people quickly. We found one connection and ran with it. We found joy in getting lost in the car together or driving around nowhere all night knowing exactly where we were.

I am sad because those friends are still out there, but they’re too far away. I’m sad because I did have a few people here that it took me my whole childhood to find. And they have since scattered or fallen out of view. I drive by those places and have a fit of stir-crazy nostalgia.

Moving is a terribly hard adjustment, and I’m finding that moving back after being gone so terribly long is even worse. Everything is a comparison. Everything bares a past bias that is hard to shake. When I moved back, I was hoping my views of this area were youthfully prejudicial. I hate it that I was right all those years growing up. It’s worse now that I’ve lived other places and seen that other people are like me in their approach to people and friendship.

I have plans next weekend with an old friend, and I know we will be hanging out unless there is an act of god. I know if something comes up, the truth will be told and we’ll see again soon.

I’m pissed at humanity, but grateful to my friends. Here’s to them.

Follow up posts:
Wednesday Night

Historical posts:
Communication Technology

Bodies – Chapter 2: Relating & Unrelated

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This is the second installment of a novel I’m writing called Bodies. You can read chapter one here. Feel free to comment. This is a work in progress and any insights could be helpful.

– – – – –

Silvie had begun to read and stopped twice now. The first time her voice faded off as she stared at the girl and wondered. The second time she just lost interest and desire to recite the written words she was not sure the girl could hear.

“You love torturing yourself, don’t you?” Silvie jumped and spun around. Phil was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed around a clipboard.

“No,” Silvie snapped, “I’m just curious.”

Phil put the clipboard down on an end table and sat in the chair next to Silvie’s as if her anger was an invitation, “Do you expect her to wake up and give you answers? She’ll likely never come out of it, and even if she did, she’s likely moderately to severely brain damaged. Who knows if she’ll be able communicate or remember anything.”

“Still,” Silvie held her ground, “I’m allowed to visit her and wonder.”

“Yeah, of course, I never said you weren’t!”

“Really?” sarcasm crept into Silvie’s voice, “I talked to Bonnie.”

“I was just trying to protect you, Silvie,” Phil’s smile was as soft as his voice, “I’ve come to care about you quite a bit.”

“Well, next time you care about me so much that you want to control me, save yourself the effort,” Silvie blurted bitterly. She grabbed her book and shoved it into messenger bag, getting up to leave.

“Hey!” Phil grabbed her arm, and Silvie pulled her arm away forcefully, “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Silvie rolled her eyes, and any guilt she felt about snapping was rushed away by righteous anger, “Feminism,” she explained as she stormed out the door.

Silvie supposed Phil would get over his ‘caring’ and stop speaking to her, which made her anger drop down into sadness as the elevator made its way to the ground floor.

“Good job, Silvie. You managed to loose a friend to defend your relationship with a girl in a coma.”

“He’s an asshole,” she explained to no one in particular as the elevator jerked and came to a halt, “Macho. Definatly not my type.”

Her actions properly rationalized, she made her way into the crisp late afternoon and down the steps wondering if Andorra’s was open.

* * *

“Man, I just don’t get women,” Phil was off work and sitting in a local pub called Bernies with his friend Matt. Phil knew the man would have nothing more sage than that to say, but it felt good telling someone his frustrations regardless.

“How can you say that?” Phil cracked open a peanut, “You’re married.”

“I thought that was the first clue that I don’t have any good advice,” Matt chuckled and leaned back in his barstool, precariously balancing with his foot on the bar.

“Don’t worry, my man, you’re off the hook. I don’t need advice, just to blow off some steam.”

“We could always go to the strip joint,” grinned Matt devilishly. Phil snorted, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t being serious anyways. Jenny would divorce me for less.”

“How would she even know?” Phil’s mouth was full of peanuts. He washed them down with his beer.

“That is one of the mysteries of the universe, Phil. She just would.”

“Huh,” Phil’s eyes wandered to the flat screen TV across the room.

“Look,” said Matt rubbing his eyes, “If you like her, just keep at it. Women are moody. Maybe she’s on the rag.”

“How philosophical of you,” Phil’s eyes never left the screen. It was a commercial for something that made people dance and he was trying to guess what it was before the commercial was over.

“Har-dee-har. No, we leave the tough thinking to you, Phil. That’s why your mom named you that. Phil the philosophical,” Matt laughed at his own joke.

“Yeah? Well, you know what your mom calls me?”

“Phht. I gotta take a leak,” Matt pulled himself out of his leaning bar-stool position by grabbing the bar and slammed down the rest of his beer before heading to the men’s room.

Phil in truth felt a bit better, but he also didn’t want to think about it anymore. Everything he did or said to Silvie was always wrong. He tried to be sensitive and caring and it somehow came off as manipulative.

Maybe I’m trying to hard with the touchy-feely approach. Maybe I should just try the classics: flowers, chocolate, dinner… If Silvie wants to make herself miserable, let her do it and get over it herself.

It’s not my problem.