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.

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.

Cupid’s Flying Circus

(Originally written on June 28, 2009)

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Last night while we were watching Monty Python’s Flying Circus (I own the 16-Ton Megaset), Sparrow made his move and kissed me.  I stopped him to tell him that I knew about his and Leto’s makeout-fest that occurred the last time he was in town (which was the first time they had even met…and they spent the night at her place – but not before Gaston walked in on them making out on his sofa.  So hey, it’s highly likely that they did more than just makeout…) and that I didn’t want to just be another one of those girls – not that I’m looking for a relationship with him (not right now, at least), I just didn’t want to fall prey to his makeout-whoredness (which may actually just be man-whoredness).  He said that we shouldn’t take it any further because of

1. Gaston,
2. Sparrow being at camp all summer, and then
3. his moving to Princeton,

all of this regardless of our history. How many more times am I going to be rejected? But oh, wait!  Then, he continued to kiss me.  Once we stopped, I asked him why he continued kissing me after we decided not to take it any further.  His response:  “You got me all riled up.”

My Afflictions

(Originally written on June 21, 2009)

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Why can’t I just get over Gaston? I mean, as brilliantly intelligent as he is, he’s going to spend the rest of his life in his small hometown in south Georgia (population 4,500) with his (entire) family because that’s how he is.  He’s not even comfortable with the idea of leaving the state of Georgia to get a job – even if it’s only temporary in lieu of the current economic circumstances.  If he’s not even willing to do that for himself, then what could he possibly be willing to do for anyone else that he loves?  Nothing, obviously.  And, I mean, I am willing to move – I’d like to experience life outside the state of Georgia before I say, “No, I want to spend the rest of my life here.”  I mean, you just don’t know until you try.  And you know what?  If you try it and you don’t like it, then you can always have the comfort of knowing that it’s only temporary until you find something better.  And why can’t I just be done with him?

And why can’t I find a job? Not only do I have two illustrious degrees, but I finished in the top of my class in both undergraduate and graduate school.  It’s just discouraging.

And it’s my family too – why can’t I stand out more to Beast than either of the three of my siblings? Not that that’s what I truly want, just a little recognition really, but Beast constantly gives me the hardest time about how I don’t have a job right now, I’m just hostessing at Los Compadres (I need to do something to be getting money and today was my first day).  Yet Ursula is waiting tables (not at Los Compadres, somewhere else) and this is her first job since she started college, the first time she’s even worked in three years (she just finished her sophomore year, but she didn’t work during her senior year of high school either).  Dale just got a job at a fast-food restaurant and he starts tomorrow, but Chip still doesn’t have a job.  And the only jobs that Chip and Dale have ever had were last summer, just for the summer.  Why doesn’t Beast understand that these circumstances are not my fault and are out of my control?  He’s a businessman; he knows that the economy blows right now. I’ve worked my butt off to do well in school and, not only have I always been employed since the age of 16 (with the exception of the past month-and-a-half), but Beast has not paid a single penny for my tuition – neither undergraduate nor graduate.  That’s not the case for Ursula; he’s paying her tuition in full and her living expenses and giving her “leisure money” every month.  I mean, it was never an option for me, it was just understood that I had to have a job.

And, out of the four of us (Ursula, Chip, Dale, and me), I’m probably the only one who will get a graduate degree.  And he didn’t even have to pay for any of it!  Yet Beast makes it out like it’s nothing, that it was simply expected of me.  How can you have different expectations and different standards for your different children? I guess I understand it to some degree – but to the point where he told me that he was going to completely cut me off if I didn’t accept an offer for a particular job that I interviewed for (for which I didn’t end up receiving an offer anyways)…that’s just not right.  He wouldn’t do that to any of the rest of us.  He wouldn’t do that to Ursula or Chip or Dale.

And it hurts really bad.

(Originally written on June 20, 2009)

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Martyr tried to convince me again tonight that “God” is taking care of everything.  Kiss my ass.  If there was a god, he wouldn’t have put me through what he put me through all in one fucking year.  I mean, I’m just barely beginning to be in a state of coping with what happened a year ago between me and X – and then now, on top of that, this whole rape thing.  And then there’s Gaston – and I told him before anything between us happened that I had been raped and I couldn’t afford for someone to break my heart.  He promised me that he wouldn’t break my heart.  He promised me.  And then look what he’s done:  just that.  I know I shouldn’t be hurt, but I am.  I just am.  And it hurts really bad.

Fragility

(Originally written on June 19, 2009)

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I’m really close with Chip and Dale and am therefore close with many of their friends and bandmates as well.  They all know Gaston and have hung out with him and me before and were aware of our “relationship” or whatever you want to call it.  I mean, hell, Gaston accompanied me to their high school battle and then hosted their celebration party afterwards!  Well, anyways, before we left for the Battle of the Bands this evening, the singer started asking me where Gaston was and if I was still “dating” him.  Immediately, everyone jumped on shutting him up (he was obviously the only person who was unaware of the situation).  God, it made me feel as though I’m so noticeably fragile that everyone thinks I’m going to crack at any moment.  It was really embarrassing, especially because I’m not sure that assumption is so far off-base.

The loneliness from Gaston is really hitting me hard.  Why can’t I let go? I mean, he treated me like shit – there’s no denying that.  Yet I still check his Twitter and Facebook religiously to see if he’s left any updates or notes that may be related to me.

Happy Birthday to Me

(Originally written on June 12, 2009)

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I am 23 years old today.

To be perfectly honest, this birthday is kinda depressing to me – I don’t have any friends here (except for Mario – okay, one) and I’m still jobless.  I really don’t feel like doing anything special to celebrate; to me, today is just like any other day lately – and that’s the way I want it to be.  However, Martyr has been bugging me all week about making plans and she’s been really adamant about it.  I’ve explained myself to her several times:  that I don’t feel that I really have anything to celebrate and to celebrate with the family is just going to remind me that I don’t have friends here and make me feel even more lonely.  But that apparently didn’t matter to her.  She suggested earlier this week that we get pedicures together, but I told her that I’d rather have the money.  She said that was okay at first, but today she insisted that I go with her to get one anyways.

I mean, that’s cool.  It felt really good and my toenails look nice now.  Don’t get me wrong, I very much enjoyed it; but shouldn’t I be the one to decide what I want to do on my birthday?

Anyways, after the pedicures, I went out to Los Compadres for dinner and margaritas with the fam (Beast, Martyr, Ursula, Chip, and Dale) plus two of Chip’s and Dale’s friends.  Beast and Martyr surprised me with $400 and a matching ring and pair of earrings that I absolutely LOVE.  After dinner, Beast, Martyr, and I all went downtown for some celebratory drinks.  We later met up with Mario and the four of us then hit up all of my favorite bars that I haven’t visited in a while.

This birthday turned out much better than I was expecting for it to be.  All in all, I’d call it a success!

•     •     •     •     •

Mind you, I haven’t forgotten what Gaston said about coming back in town for my birthday.  I’ve been nervous all day about running into him, yet I still kinda hoped that I would.  We haven’t communicated in any way whatsoever since that Wednesday when everything between us officially ended (June 3^rd).  Well, he didn’t come back after all.  I didn’t even receive so much as a happy birthday text from him…

So, I forgot to mention…

(Originally written on June 3, 2009)

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Oh yea, so I forgot to mention this in my previous post:  at some point in the middle of the whole conversation with Gaston this afternoon, after he had told me that we – as anything more than friends, that is – were over, he said that he was still going to come back into town (from south Georgia) for my birthday.  Why on Earth would he want do that? That irritates the hell out of me:  I don’t want to spend my birthday with the guy who just broke my heart!  Ugh, well I guess we’ll see come the twelfth…

The End and Fortune Cookies

(Originally written on June 3, 2009)

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So much for Gaston taking anything I said yesterday into consideration – except for the whole me ending it thing, of course.  We’re done.

When I approached Gaston this afternoon and asked if it was a good time to talk, he replied with, “What is there to talk about it?”  I then, of course, reminded him.  He was being very cold – emotionless, even – and matter-of-factual during our entire conversation.  After telling me that everything that went wrong between us was my fault, he told me that he “forgive[s] everyone back to the friendship level” and that he has seen me as nothing more than a friend ever since he read my blog.  That really hurt me.  I then asked him,

If you’ve seen me as just a friend since the whole blog incident, then how could you have continued to sleep with me and lead me on as though you were still interested in something more?  Like the night we watched Spinal Tap – that was you.

He paused, sighed, then looked back up at me, shaking his head,

It’s different because it’s you.

My eyes welled up and I looked at him as he was getting ready to take a shower, trying to close the bathroom door in my face, and I simply replied, “Okay.  That’s fine,” even though it isn’t…

•     •     •     •     •

On Monday night, I ordered in Chinese for dinner.  The delivery came with two fortune cookies; I ate one on Monday night and the other yesterday evening after the Gaston conversation/fiasco.  My fortune cookie from Monday night:

Don’t give up.  Your problem gets better next month.

And my fortune cookie from last night:

A pleasant surprise is in store for you tonight.

Let’s address last night’s fortune first:  not surprisingly, I interpreted it as meaning that Gaston was going to take me back.  And that obviously didn’t happen…

As far as Monday night’s fortune, I was really excited upon reading it, thinking (hoping, really) it had to be referring to either Gaston or my job search.  Well, now I’m jobless and everything with Gaston is over.  God I hope it’s true; I can’t wait until next month because this shit really sucks.