The Perfect Fit to His Mold

(Originally written on September 21, 2009)

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I’ve realized that I really was just a fit into the mold of the type of girl that Gaston goes after.  Short (would have to be shorter than him, god forbid, and he’s only 5’6” – I’m 5’1”), brown eyes, short brown hair parted on the side, wide smile – all of the girls Gaston’s “dated” match that description…and I perfectly fit the mold.

Why are these things never made clearly evident until after the fact?

U – G – H!

(Originally written on September 16, 2009)

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I just read the following post on Tomboy’s Facebook wall from her best friend (other than Gaston), who just happens to also be Gaston’s ex (not Heartbreaker, though):

I can’t wait to see you and Gaston at the LSU game.  Speaking of…tell that there boyfriend of yours that I saw a lonely black sheep wandering around on his farm earlier.  He should go find it.  Then maybe your lonely brown cow will have a friend.  Good luck out there – I hear running a virtual farm is tough work.

Ugh!  Not only do I now know for a fact that Tomboy and Gaston are actually dating (well, I’m going to cross-reference that with Rowdy, just to be sure), but they’re going to be in town together for MY football game – the only one that I get to go home for and attend all year.

Suspicious Tweets

(Originally written on September 14, 2009)

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Yuengling and Gaston have been twittering back and forth this evening and it appears as though Gaston is back living in my hometown.  And I think he might actually be dating or living with Tomboy.  Is he STILL working on his undergraduate degree?  If he actually graduates this semester, that makes it five-and-a-half years for him to complete it.  And, I mean, he has only ever had one, unchanged major and no minors…

Struggling

(Originally written on August 31, 2009)

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Since making the move, I’ve pretty much just been in my hotel room content alone every day (besides work).  I mean, I’ve been all alone for a week now and have been perfectly okay with it.  And I’m just watching TV to pass the time, watching, like, even on reality shows how those people even have normal interactions with other people.  And, I mean, I’m just not sure that I can ever experience those interactions of a healthy relationship again.  In fact, these tears that I’m crying right now aren’t even for missing anyone in particular – they’re all about the pain from the events that initiated almost a year ago and ended this past May.  The whole thing with Gaston happening right after being raped – that that ended so ugly.  It’s just an even deeper scar than the one left by the rape itself.  And I’m just really not sure at this point if I can come back from that.  I really don’t know.  Because just as much as I enjoy the sexual aspects of romantic relationships, I’m now starting to worry that either

1. that’s all my (potential) future relationship(s) will turn out to be, or
2. that I won’t be able to allow myself take part in any of that at all.

It’s just a really hard realization to come to.  And I’m not sure what lies ahead for me.  I don’t want to be this broken individual for the rest of my life – I don’t.  But I have to do something about it now and I can’t.  I’m in a new place; I’m supposed to be starting fresh and I don’t want to be reliving all of these nightmares that I have already been through time and time again.  I don’t want to bring that up here with me, but I’m afraid that I already have.  And I don’t know what to do about it.

This is my first “breakdown”/”episode” since moving.  I think it’s all because I spoke with my detective today and learned that everything with my case is just not okay.  The police who came to the scene misquoted me in their report, my rapist has said all of the “right things” he could say to clear himself (he admitted to having sex with me, but said it was consensual, which sets it up to be his word versus mine – which, for whatever reason, the government tends to side with his apparently),…  It just isn’t fair.  It just isn’t fair.

When will I stop suffering? I don’t know if I can even hold onto the hope of ever being fixed anymore.  Am I a lost cause?  Is the potential of my future love life all a lost cause? I can’t help but think that all I’m going to amount to at the end of my life is someone with a successful career and a lot of money yet no one to share it with.

There Goes the Neighborhood

(Originally written on August 17, 2009)

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I just realized that Tomboy has moved into my soon-to-be-former apartment complex.

Great.  Just the bitch that I want to see when I visit home.

Even though I know I don’t want to be with Gaston, I’m still not over him.  And Tomboy’s presence here is just going to make it more likely that I’ll see him here staying with her for every football weekend that I make it to.  Especially because I always suspected that they were more than just friends.  I mean, she transferred here to resume classes this fall semester after one year at a top law school just to be closer to Gaston.  Regardless of how hard I tried (which I did, because she was Gaston’s best friend), I never did like her from the first time I met her.

It’s just a painful reminder.

Of all the nicer, newer apartment complexes to live in in this town, WHY HERE?

Communication Breakdown (Continued)

(Originally written on July 27, 2009)

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Yesterday, I told Scarlet about Gaston’s text from Saturday and asked for his opinion on the matter.  Scarlet is really good with that kind of stuff.  He suggested that I simply say hello back, that there was no harm in saying hi.  He made a good point; I was convinced.  So, starting with Gaston’s text from Saturday, here’s how the exchange went:

Hey

Hi

How are u

I’m okay.  How are you?

Im good just bored in [south Georgia] trying to bide my time working on the job hunt

And that was that.  And let me just get this out of my system real quick:  I HATE it when

1. people can’t write out the word “you”, and
2. when people don’t use at least somewhat proper punctuation.

Okay, that’s better.  So anyways, I mean, Gaston didn’t really leave me with anywhere to take the conversation from that point.  What was I supposed to say?  “Yea, me too”?  So that was it.

Communication Breakdown

(Originally written on July 25, 2009)

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Bluto is here…that’s odd.  I can’t believe that he made the five-hour drive down here just to help Gaston move.

They were all here yesterday/last night:  Bluto, Gaston, Rowdy, Napoleon, Leto.  I was trapped inside of my apartment all day and night in order to avoid running into them, but that didn’t stop me from periodically peering out at them through my blinds (childish, I know).  Then, they had a little “party” at Leto’s apartment last night; her living room is right below mine.  It went on for hours and they were being SOOO loud, I couldn’t help but hear them yukking it up down there.  Especially because I had the volume on my TV turned down low and I made a conscious effort to make as minimal noise as possible – I just prefer that they not know I was there and I wanted to be invisible to them, not even an afterthought in the backs of their minds.  Oh well, I’m glad to see to see them leave.

•     •     •     •     •

Gaston sent me a text that simply read, “Hey”, at 12:30 this afternoon as he was in the process of moving out.  That’s the first time there has been any communication between us at all since June 3^rd.  I hope he’s not expecting for me to respond.  And even if he is, he could have at least tried a little harder than just, “Hey”…

Something to Celebrate!

(Originally written on July 24, 2009)

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Gaston’s mattresses are sitting outside!  YES!  He’s finally gonna be gone!

“Artistic” Refreshment

(Originally written on July 23, 2009)

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This evening, I had dinner plans with Michelangelo, one of my friends from high school.  Michelangelo and I go pretty far back; he was a football player and I was a football (and competitive) cheerleader.  On some game Fridays, he would let me wear his jersey.  Ahh…  And did I mention that I’ve always had a mini-crush on him?

But anyways, it really all started our sophomore year.  Both of us are artistically talented – although, Michelangelo is far more talented than me­ – and we had Graphic Design I together with Ms. Gemini.  She was my favorite teacher in high school…actually, my favorite teacher ever.  Michelangelo and another guy sat next to each other at computers behind mine and they used to play with my hair (Michelangelo would sometimes chew on the ends, soaking them in saliva…my hair was much longer back then…and blonde, thanks to regular highlight treatments) and do other things to playfully antagonize me.  And Ms. Gemini always used to yell at me for it, “Elliott!  Stop flirting!  Or else I’ll have to separate you!”  But she never did.  Oh memories… Michelangelo wasn’t in my Graphic Design II or III classes; however, X was in Graphic Design III with me – conveniently, at the time we were dating.

Well, since we’ve graduated from high school, Chip and Dale have taken Ms. Gemini’s Graphic Design classes a la my suggestion.  X and I visited a couple of times when we were still dating – it was like a doubly great visit:  we got to see my brothers and our former teacher.  However, since X and I have been broken up, I’ve been making those visits with Michelangelo instead.  Ms. Gemini really enjoys it when we stop in, but I think she likes it better when Michelangelo accompanies me because X was never really artistically-oriented (she also taught Michelangelo and me art and does a lot of business selling her own pieces and designs).

I almost majored in graphic design in undergrad, but Beast and Martyr said that it would be a waste of a free education to major in art, that you either have that talent or you don’t and that it’s something that can’t be taught.  I suppose they were right; just as artsy as I am, I am also gifted intellectually, and my statistics degree is certainly more useful for getting a job (and it got me into the MMR program).

Michelangelo, on the other hand, just graduated this past May with his Bachelor of Art in Sculpture.  The reason that it took him five years is because he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma right after our freshman year of college and had to take a semester off for the treatment and then took a light load the following semester while he recovered.  That really changed him a lot.  For example, Michelangelo was extremely religious in high school – I remember one discussion in Graphic Design I between Michelangelo, the guy he sat next to, and me in which we were talking about masturbation, for some reason, and Michelangelo revealed that he had never masturbated because the Bible says that it is sinful.  He also never drank in high school.  However, a couple of months ago over beers at Polly’s, Michelangelo and I had a little heart-to-heart about cancer, religion, and love, and it turns out that he and I share a lot of “beliefs” (or lack thereof) in common with each other through our similar experiences.

Anyways, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I had dinner with Michelangelo this evening.  However, there was something significantly different about this meeting from our last few interactions:  Michelangelo paid for everything (as opposed to us each paying our own) – both dinner and drinks afterward.  It almost felt date-like.  Anyways, it was really nice to see him again; it’s been a while.  Michelangelo took me out to the eastside for a sushi dinner.  I thought that was going to be it, but then he asked me if I wanted to go downtown for a couple of drinks, to which I was more-than-happy to oblige – more for his extended company, though, than just the allure of alcohol.  So, throughout the course of the evening, we discussed our lives over sushi, beer, and wine (Guinness for him and Selbach Riesling for me, to be precise).  Since graduating in May, he’s been doing odd jobs such as repairing flooring and cabinetry for the most part and is waiting to hear back about a job where he would be doing construction work in Aruba for six-to-eight months.  I told him that he’d be crazy not to take a job in paradise; besides, it’s only temporary – what an experience!

Ah, it really was great to see him again.

•     •     •     •     •

Gaston is back – ugh!

A Coincidental Run-In

(Originally written on July 19, 2009)

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I ran into Leto this afternoon on my way to the grocery store while she was moving shit out of her apartment, so I cordially paused for a moment to chat with her.  After swapping hellos, she initiated the conversation by asking me,

So I guess the boys are moving out?

I have no idea.  I haven’t spoken to Gaston in two months or so.

Oh I know that.  But have you spoken to Napoleon?

So she and Gaston have obviously been talking about me…  For Gaston to have brought that up to her, it really must be a big deal to him.  And that makes me feel even more fantastic about that whole situation.  He would only say that defensively, like if she asked about me and that’s how he responded because he really does still care about me, yet feels he has to put up his usual “strong”, manly, and uncaring façade.  God, losing him has really been hard on me…

Then Leto proceeded to brag to me about her new job and all of its perks, assuring me that my luck would come around.  Yea, right.

•     •     •     •     •

This evening, Los Compadres held a disastrous employee meeting.  It started 30 minutes late and ran on for an hour-and-a-half.  And absolutely nothing was accomplished by it.  Well, I did get to look at the schedule for this week and find out that they forgot to put me on it for the second week in a row.  And this week I’m not going to ask them to fix me in for a couple shifts.  I’m pretty set on quitting at this point.  I mean, I’ve been working there for one month now and still haven’t received a paycheck – and I’ve been discussing it with the manager twice every time I come in:  once at the beginning of my shift and once toward the end of it.  I can’t afford to not work, but I really can’t afford to work and not get paid for it.