“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!

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.

THE Conundrum

(Originally written on June 9, 2009)

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How can I expect anyone to love me when I don’t even love myself?  I don’t even know who I am.  I have lived my whole life with the ambition of making other people happy:  Beast, X, Gaston…  I don’t even know what makes me happy – I’ve always just been satisfied pleasing everyone else.

Reminiscing and Anticipation

(Originally written on May 28, 2009)

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Last night, Sparrow came back into town after spending a year-and-a-half teaching English in Argentina and then hiking his way back up to the U.S. through South and Middle America.  He’s going to be here for the summer working at the YMCA camp until he goes to Princeton in the fall for seminary school.  Sparrow and I have a very unique and interesting history, which is made even more so by our respective relationships with Napoleon and Gaston.  Allow me to explain this by first detailing my relationship with Sparrow and then explaining Sparrow’s relationships with Napoleon and Gaston.  After that, it should be pretty clear how they tie together and put a bizarre spin on it all.

I first met Sparrow when I was a freshman in college (2004) at the opening SGA (Student Government Association) meeting of the fall.  It was pouring outside and I didn’t have an umbrella, so I trudged through the rain in my oversized University hoodie from my dorm to the dinning hall, then from the dining hall to the building where the meeting was being held.  I ended up getting to the meeting really early (probably about 20 minutes) and was the only one there…except for Sparrow.  He was a senator and was there serving his office hours.  I took off my sweatshirt, which was heavy with rainwater, and we got to talking.  And right off the bat, I was attracted to him.

The meeting opened with a welcoming and then split into committees.  Naturally, I chose the Student Life committee, which was head up by Sparrow.  Once the committee relocated and settled into its room, Sparrow addressed the first order of business:  appointing a secretary…which ended up being me.  Anyways, the primary role of the Student Life committee was the planning and execution of Tailgate with the Team, an event held on campus where the football team, coaches, and cheerleaders eat and mingle with the students (and give speeches and exhibitions and whatnot).  Additional meetings were held solely to prepare for Tailgate and, as the secretary, I attended those as well.  The guy that Sparrow put in charge of those meetings was incredibly unorganized and just wasn’t getting anything done.  After a particularly irritating Tailgate meeting, I called Sparrow to express my concern with being able to pull it off…and I think I bitched a little about what an idiot the Tailgate dude was.  So that’s how Sparrow got my number (at the beginning of every SGA meeting, Sparrow always posted his contact info on the whiteboard).

About a week later, I received a call from Sparrow:

Do you know what Celeste Cola is?

No, what is it?

Well, Celeste Cola is a gas station brand of Coke and me and my fraternity brothers are kinda obsessed with it.  It’s great.  Every football Saturday, I sit on the front porch of my fraternity house and enjoy a nice, cold Celeste Cola.  I was wondering, Elliott, would you like to drink a Celeste Cola with me this Saturday?

I would love to!

And Sparrow and I had a date (this marked X’s and my first “break”)!  I tailgated and went to the football game with him and had a really great time.  We started hanging out a lot more:  we went to more football games together; I would come over to his fraternity house (he lived there) and we would watch movies and he introduced me to Monty Python’s Flying Circus; and I attended fraternity parties and date nights with Sparrow as his date.

Now here’s where things start to get sticky – and, mind you, I’m fully aware that it’s all my fault.  Anyways, the very last date night of the semester was Sparrow’s semiformal.  We had a ball!  I’m not sure if there was ever a single moment when we weren’t dancing.  When we got to our car after the conclusion of the bash, we noticed that there was a note folded up and enclosed in a ziplock bag that was tucked under one of the windshield wipers.  Written on it was a scavenger hunt-like clue that instructed us to go to a building on North Campus (which is renown for its beauty and holds several famous historical landmarks).  Sparrow played it off like, “Oh cool, have you heard about this?  It’s this thing where you’re randomly chosen to go on this hunt through campus and there’s a surprise at the end.  Do you want to do it?”  I had never heard of this “secret society” and figured it was just because I was a naïve freshman; but it sounded really interesting and exciting, so I definitely wanted to do it.  Each clue took us to a different romantic spot on North Campus and the final clue lead us to the Founder’s Garden, where Sparrow gave me a pair of earrings for Christmas (the “surprise at the end”) and asked me to be his girlfriend.  Let me go ahead and just say that I am an idiot:  I told him that I couldn’t because I wasn’t over X yet.  Needless to say, that was pretty much the end of that.

Later on throughout my sophomore and junior years, Sparrow and I reunited a few times when X and I were taking other breaks, but, obviously, nothing serious ever came out of it.

Now – onto Sparrow’s relationships with Napoleon and Gaston:  the three of them are all fraternity brothers in the same fraternity (XYZ)…so they’re all pretty good friends.  Not only that, but before Gaston was Napoleon’s roommate, Sparrow was.  And it turns out that Napoleon and I have been neighbors for the past three years, but didn’t meet or become aware of that fact until this past September.

So it’s just odd because I’m sure the three of them have been sharing their individual stories about me with each other since Sparrow’s return.  I wonder how that’s going to affect my relationships with them – specifically, Sparrow and Gaston…

•     •     •     •     •

Gaston told me last night that he’s made his decision regarding “us” and he’s going to tell me what that decision is on Sunday.  He wants to wait until Sunday since he left to go home to south Georgia today and expects that’s when he’ll be back.  I can’t help but have this urge to tell him that I don’t care about doing it “properly” (face-to-face) and that I just want for him to tell me over the phone.  I’m so tired of waiting.

Good to Know I’m Not the Only One

(Originally written on May 16, 2009)

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Remember the post detailing the time I ran into X at one of my friend’s band’s shows?  Well that friend is Mario and I know him from high school.  He has told me that I was the first girl at our high school that was ever nice to him (he transferred in the 10^th grade from a Christian school; we ate lunch together, Spring semester of that year, I believe).  Anyways, he started dating Hippo around the same time X and I started dating.  And I’m not calling her Hippo because she’s fat!  I mean, she is a little on the bigger side, but that’s beside the point – she used to be obsessed with drawing hippopotamuses in high school.  I don’t know, she may still be; I never knew her beyond an acquaintance (and still don’t).

Well, Mario and Hippo just broke up this past September and tonight Mario and I discussed it over dinner at Los Compadres.  He explained to me that what’s helped him the most has been living for himself and not for pleasing someone else (both Flower-Child and Scarlet have tried sharing that same concept with me before…I guess it’s different when you hear it coming from someone currently going through it).  What hit me the hardest was when he told me,

I realized I was happy by making her happy.  Then I stepped back and saw how shitty she was treating me.  I was living as she wanted me to, I wasn’t myself.

And they were together for five years…  How can I let Gaston do the exact same thing to me and yet we weren’t/aren’t even “dating”?

Rampant Miscellany

(Originally written on April 23, 2009)

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Graduation from my Master’s program is less than a month away and Beast and Martyr keep asking me what I want.  First, allow me to share with you what happened with last year’s graduation present:

The deal has always been that I would get a new car upon graduating from college.  I drive a 2001 Nissan Altima that I got when I turned 16.  Yes, I turned 16 in 2001, but Beast, being his frugal self, got a great deal on it.  It had been some dude’s business car for a year – so, considering it was only one year old (since the 2001 models were released in 2000), it had a lot of miles on it…hence, the “deal”.  Okay, so anyways, when I graduated last May I didn’t need a new car since I was staying here for another year and my little Altima runs great. *  In lieu of this, I instead got $1,000 (which – hey – I’m not complaining, something’s better than nothing!) and Beast got a brand new motorcycle for himself.  I just felt a little jipped, that’s all.

*  Random memory/thought triggered:  I’ve never been one to name my car.  However, in high school my best friend (at the time) and I decided that we thought that my emergency break looked like a penis and that we needed to name it something appropriate.  We decided that Newt was a very fitting, penis-sounding name.  I still refer to it as Newt to this day!

Back to what I want for graduation…  It’s hard to ask for anything until I know what I’m going to be doing with my life.  Whenever I eventually find a job and depending on where it is, I might not need a car.  Martyr is insistent upon doing a mother-daughter massage.  Whatever, that’s cool.  Other than that, though, I think I want an iPod touch.  Chip and Dale are graduating this May too (from high school).  I asked Dale what he thought.  He liked the idea and thinks he’s going to ask for the same thing.  Good deal.

Speaking of job uncertainty, I was supposed to have heard from the HR chick at Bacchus on Monday.  Still no call.

In order to become better acquainted with the wine business processes and Bacchus’s products in general, Beast helped me set up a “shadowing”, if you will, for this Friday. I will be going around with one of the wine salesmen from his distributorship for the day.  I’m definitely looking forward to expanding my knowledge about my beloved wine and its industry, BUT this is going to require a full day’s work starting at 7 in the morning!  I mean, not wake up at 7am, but be there and ready-to-go at 7am.  That is going to be rough…

•     •     •     •     •

I FULLY COMPLETED the campus newspaper crossword yesterday ALL ON MY OWN!  Woo-hoo!  I knocked it out in record speed:  all of it during my one-hour-and-fifteen-minute class while also paying some attention and taking notes.  It was a mini-achievement for me.

•     •     •     •     •

I had a test a couple of weeks ago in a class that is utterly pointless.  Just yesterday, I picked it up from my campus box, only to realize that I scored a 75 on it.  Wow.  My “I just don’t give a shit about school anymore” attitude has drastic effects.  My GPA is a 4.0.  Guess I won’t be holding onto that for the remainder of my education…  And I still don’t care.

I’m over it.  The entire school deal in all.  I am just ready to be done with it and enter the real world.

•     •     •     •     •

Upon getting back to the apartment after class Tuesday, I paid a visit to Gaston.  He was in his boxers, just being lazy and lying in bed.  It turned me on a little, not gonna lie.  So I laid with him for a bit and tried to coax him into hooking up. Yes, I actually had to persuade him to have sex.  This went on for quite some time.  At one point he said it wouldn’t be as fun because he was already practically naked, besides the fact that he had errands that he needed to run.  Then, at some slightly later point, he ended up just putting on a pair of shorts.  Then he took a call from Bluto.  This was my window of opportunity.

I started kissing down his chest and stomach…he made no effort to stop me (he had laid back down with me on his bed).  I proceeded to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his shorts – he hadn’t even zipped them up!  I then slid off both his shorts and his boxers.  He still had made absolutely no effort to stop any of this, by the way.  And then I started going down on him (yes, while he was on the phone with Bluto).  It was quite entertaining, actually.  He couldn’t hardly get out a complete thought and Bluto asked him what was wrong (I have a huge grin on my face right now).

Needless to say, he gave in – yet he warned me it wouldn’t last very long since I had been “playing with [him]” – yes, those were his actual words – for 10 minutes already.  Then once I got the condom, he just went straight to it!  I was like, “What?  No warm up for me?”  And he brought up the errands he needed to run again.  Anyways, he lasted longer than I expected, given his warning.

Then, as soon as I got on top of him, my nose started bleeding.  He happened to have a roll of toilet paper right there because of his allergies.  So…he ended up cumming while I had a wad of toilet paper sticking up/out of my nose…  One of the weirdest, most awkward experiences of my life – and you know how I feel about awkward!

Looking back, he took up just about as much time bitching about his errands leading up to sex as it took for us from start to finish.  The deal was:  if he had sex with me, I would go with him to run his errands.  We ended up going to a drive-up ATM to get his account balance and then to the grocery store, where he just got Fudge Rounds, Andoille sausage (apparently he’s making Jumbalaya for me sometime soon), and Gatorade.  Seriously, that was it for his errands.

Stepping back a bit to when we were debating having sex:  Gaston revealed to me that he doesn’t like kissing – he doesn’t dislike/hate it, but he doesn’t like it.  WHAT?!  I don’t even know how to verbalize my feelings about that right now.

•     •     •     •     •

I had an appointment with Angel Tuesday for the first time in a while (my shrink suggested I see him since I was under so much stress and experiencing so much anxiety).  I told him about my worries about school/finding a job/not having health insurance once I graduate and he went on about those for a while.  I mean, yes, I’m worried (at least, somewhat) about all of those things, but I realize at this point that all I can do is take them as they come.

Then, we got onto the topic of my love/dating life.  Here we go…

I told him about the whole Gaston situation and why he won’t make our relationship official.  Angel then asked me a few questions that I never saw coming.

From what you’ve told me about Gaston, your relationship with him reminds me a lot of your relationship with X.  I keep hearing more and more negatives.  Why are you still dealing with Gaston? What do you actually like about him?

Wow.  This threw me for a loop.  My immediate response:  “He’s nice; he’s…” and I went on.

Okay.  “Nice”.  When I was in a sorority and going through rush, we thought of “nice” as an adjective we only used to describe a girl that was either just okay or had northing great/memorable/outstanding about her.

Even now I see myself trying to block this out of my mind.

Then Angel asked me,

Why are you doing this?  How does it make you feel that he won’t make the relationship ‘official’?

Honestly, I know what I want:  a relationship (obviously), and I would (I think, at least) really enjoy one with Gaston.  BUT – I realize that I may be moving somewhere new and far away once I find a job:  so I’m hesitant to start a relationship just in time to move far, far away.

Am I just making excuses?  Just to cope with Gaston’s unwillingness to commit?

Angel suggested that I sit down with Gaston and talk about it – which I would love to do, but Gaston does continually remind me of how he only thinks about the “here and now” and doesn’t look into the future.  I just feel like that’s all I would get out of that conversation.

I also talked with Angel about X.  I’ve been thinking lately about getting together to talk to him (X) about working on becoming friends.  My intentions here are mainly so that I can work on moving on – not just for Gaston, but for me and the rest of my potential love life.

One night a couple of weeks ago or so, I was upset (and probably slightly drunk…yea, chances are pretty high) and going to bed.  All the things I wanted to say to X were flooding my mind.  In order to get them out of my mind and to ensure that I would remember them, I got out of bed and wrote X a letter addressing my feelings and concerns:

X –

To be perfectly honest, I feel insulted that the first thing you always ask me about it my cats.  I mean, even if you didn’t know me (which you kinda don’t anymore), you would at least ask me about the whole job thing.

You and what’s-her-face can get over the whole “me dating again” thing.  Because, just like I told you a while ago, it may be YEARS before I even date again – IF I ever even do.  You can have full confidence in the fact that I am over you; HOWEVER, I am not over what you did to me, and I may never be.

Please, at least give me the opportunity to be your friend – both of your friends.  That is the only way I can foresee myself getting on with my life.

BUT – if you prefer to remain strangers, please let me know.

I mean, I am jobless and have no idea how I can possibly get out of this town and out of your hair.  We can’t ignore this forever.

Elliott

Now, I know it comes across really bitchily, but I think I phrased it well.  I told Angel that I was thinking about meeting with X in person and handing him the letter so that I wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting to say anything and I would be there to let him know that I honestly didn’t mean it in a rude way, that I just didn’t know how to better phrase it.

Angel convinced me that it would make X defensive and that I shouldn’t hand him the letter, even if I’m right there.  Instead, he suggested that when I meet with X I bring the letter with me for reminder purposes, but that I should just talk through it with him in a less offensive manner.  This made sense – I think I was under the impression that it would be easier to do it the way I had originally planned.

•     •     •     •     •

Talk about timing, I ended up setting up a meeting with X later that afternoon for that very evening (still Tuesday) – dinner and drinks.

Surprisingly, “How are your cats?” wasn’t his first question for me, it was probably his sixth or so.  I jested,

I’m actually surprised that my cats weren’t the first thing you asked me about.

He smiled and did one of those mini-laughs.

Really?  I guess since I’ve gotten my dog it’s just something that I talk about more.

Okay, I’ll take that.

I then brought up the whole friend thing and, surprisingly, he told me that his girlfriend had told him that she would like to meet me as well.  Wow.  I had thought that she hated my guts.

All in all, the meeting was a success and we’ll just have to wait and see how things move along.

•     •     •     •     •

Once I got back from meeting with X, I joined Napoleon and Gaston for the end of American Idol.  The plan was to go out.  They both needed to shower and then Gaston asked me if I would iron his khakis and a button-down shirt for him.  Napoleon then barked out, “Yea, woman, aren’t you supposed to be domesticated?”  Whatever, it’s not like I was doing anything else wile they were showering.  BUT THEN – Gaston didn’t even end up wearing the shirt – and that’s what was such a pain in the ass to iron!  Oh well, I quickly got over it.

Then Rowdy came over and we all played Name-That-Song-and-Artist-Power-Hour.  We continued doing this while waiting on Snoopy.  Gaston had told him to come over and we would leave for downtown at 11pm.  Turns out, Snoopy thought he meant “come over” at 11pm.  Then, he was late even for that time because he decided to run through Taco Bell on his way over.  Then, we had to wait for him to eat once he got there!  Dear god, it ended up turning into Power-Two-and-a-Half-Hours!

Needless to say, I had gotten pretty drunk, so once we got to Polly’s I just drank water.

To the Point

(Originally written on April 10, 2009)

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Yuengling thinks that everything between Gaston and me is done after the whole April Fool’s thing.  He’s torn between thinking it’s awful and funny.  I wish he had spoken up on the former of those two feelings when the idea was originally brought up at Los Compadres because it is one of my biggest regrets.  Actually, my only regret.  I don’t believe in wasting time worrying about what has been done because there’s nothing that you can do to change it.

Downtown at Polly’s Tuesday after the movie, Gaston called me Slutty McSlutterson and asked me if I had ever met Dirty Steve for like the 100^th time (realistically somewhere around the 7^th).  Two insults rolled up into one – how efficient of him!  I don’t feel the need to explain why I was pissed about him calling me Slutty McSlutterson (he wasn’t even drinking –  ANYTHING).  However, Gaston took me home with him to south Georgia back in January.  During this visit, I freakin’ met Dirty Steve and we hung out with him all night.  He asks me this question on a regular basis (often sober) and by now I just feel that he should remember.

I went to see my friends’ band play on Wednesday with Yuengling (the same band I saw when I ran into X).  They played really well and I really enjoy their music and lyrics.  The one that I found most relevant to my life:  “I can’t help but worry about it.”  I just can’t.  About anything, really.

Yesterday afternoon/last night Gaston, Rowdy, Leto (Belle’s roommate) and I sat outside on Gaston’s porch drinking Mint Julips and watching the Master’s tournament.  We ended up grilling out and later on the beer pong table came out.  By this point, Napoleon had returned from work.   Gaston and Rowdy were taking on Whitie (Gaston’s albino friend) and me.  Game 1:  Whitie and I win.  Game 2:  it was time to break out the distractions – Gaston can never help but be fully affected by them.  My distractions, although not modest I suppose, consist of me shaking my butt or putting my thumb on the top of my jeans and pulling them down so you can see that hipbone line.

Out of nowhere, Napoleon announces (he’s still off the sauce for Lent), “I’ve been meaning to tell you – you look like a prostitute.”  Call me sensitive, but this really pissed me off – enough so that it was to the point where I sank Whitie’s and my remaining two cups on my next two throws with ease.  Immediately afterward, I retired to my apartment for the rest of the evening (where, not too much later, my nose started bleeding because my anger caused a sever spike in my blood pressure).  You can try to say that he was just kidding, but as many asshole lines as he has given me, I know better than to believe that.  The mere fact that he shouted it in front of everyone was embarrassing, degrading, and flat-out inappropriate.

Scarlet raised the questions, “How can you call him a friend?  Why do you still hang out with him?”  Those are two damn good questions.  I think it’s because he was the one that helped me after I had been raped.  He called the police for me since I could hardly be understood through my tears, and he was with me while the cops interviewed me and searched my apartment in the wee hours of the night.  That is a debt that I feel I can never repay and that I will always be eternally grateful for.  I mean, we had just been hanging out for about a month by that time and we barely even knew each other.  BUT that is also why this particular comment struck so deep – it made me feel as though he probably thinks I was just asking to be raped.  I’m sure that’s not the case, but that’s how I feel.

I FINALLY had sex today!  Woo-hoo!  And the duration was fantastic and…ahh.  It was just phenomenal.  However, I’m not quite sure what to think because Gaston still won’t let me kiss him – not even during sex.  I just don’t know what to think about that.  I understand that I ruined his trust in me, but it just seems so emotionless (which he can be a lot of the time, but this is different).  I don’t think I could do that again because the only other time (other than the rape) that I’ve had sex without kissing was post-breakup sex with X – which isn’t a very positive association.

We then spent, like, three more hours together watching the Master’s while he wanted to (and I let it happen) cuddle with me – holding my hands, kissing my shoulders, and such.  I asked him if he would ever let me kiss him again and he replied, “Probably.”  With Gaston it is more than just sex, but I just don’t think that our “not-relationship” can continue if the kissing aspect remains out.

“I can’t help but worry about it.”

Introspection

(Originally written on April 2, 2009)

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I honestly just don’t give a shit anymore.  I know that I should (especially since I’m still jobless), but my former sense of productivity has diminished, leaving me in this state of indifference.

And I realize that this is the beginning of a vicious cycle:  I currently have a 4.0 GPA in grad school.  I may be letting this very qualification – that may better help me to get a job – fly out the window just because I have not yet obtained one.

Yes, I agree with you, that justification is ridiculous.

I think I’ve just reached the ultimate state of senioritis.

How do I get out of this?  What can I do (at least for the one month that I have remaining of school) to pull myself out of this?  Is it just a delayed depression effect of the rape combined with my current situation?  I have never felt so careless before in my entire life.

Samantha insists that I meet all of the classic symptoms of clinical depression.  “Elliott, you are just focusing on all of the negatives.”  I hate to admit it, but perhaps I am.  BUT I have no idea what to do about it.  I’m already on a high dose of an antidepressant.

Right after Beast and Martyr started having problems, I started seeing a counselor, Angel.  He really helped me get through that whole situation; then, just a few months later, he helped me through the whole X thing.

Gradually, I weaned myself off of seeing him, especially once he started giving me reaffirmation by saying things like “You are doing much better than I would have expected,” or “You are really handling this well.”  Which, perhaps I was…at the time, but I stopped seeing him because of this “false/temporary” sense of confidence that I had.

Then I was raped.  That, as expected, threw a wrench into my whole situation.  So, I began seeing Angel once a week.  Given my delicate state, he gave me his e-mail address and cell phone number, which is HUGE for someone in his position to do.  He was really there for me and helped me come to a lot of realizations that I could not have arrived at on my own.

It really touched me that he was willing to take his time off the clock to help me.  I mean, he took the risk of giving his personal cell phone number to a patient!  By no means am I crazy, but I could have gone nuts with that.  But I never would.  I trust that he probably figured that about me way before making that decision.

Well, I actually went over my allotted insurance benefits last year – mainly because I really needed a lot of help with the whole combination of the Beast and Martyr, X, and rape situations.  So now I’m hesitant to start seeing him again because I can NOT afford to do that again.

HOWEVER, by the turn of the same coin, I don’t want to burden him by e-mailing him or calling him because he doesn’t get paid for that.  He really does a wonderful enough job that I would feel as though I would be taking advantage of him by doing that.

Tequila Revelations

(Originally written on March 29,2009)

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Friday, Gaston was supposed to have left to go home to south Georgia by 3pm; however, his Jeep was still sitting in our parking lot at 4:30m, tempting me.  I hadn’t heard from him all day and I was still upset about the whole jealousy comment, waiting to see if he would try to contact me for a change.  I know that those “tests” or “games” or whatever are stupid, but I sometimes wonder if we would ever even talk if I didn’t go out of my way to initiate contact all of the time…

I was battling with myself as to whether or not I should just go down there and get the whole “I accept that this isn’t going to work out” conversation over with.  I really value Samantha’s advice, but I don’t have enough self-control to just let it go.  I mean, he is my neighbor whose apartment I have to walk by every day and we hang out with the same crowd.  To just cut myself off from him would require me to completely change who I hang out with for the remaining two months I have here.

I called Scarlet for additional advice (he was aware of what happened the night before).

Gaston’s car is still here – he was supposed to have left already and I wish he would just go already!

His response was priceless:

Okay…

My nonsensical, emotional neurosis was definitely at hold of the reigns.  I then explained what I was trying to do and asked if he thought I should just go down there and get it out.  Scarlet’s reply was pleasantly surprising,

I think you should talk to him, but not until he gets back in town.  You should wait until you aren’t so upset and have thought clearly about what exactly you want.

The reason this was so surprising is because Scarlet likes Gaston and readily admits that he’s a nice guy and that he recognizes that I really enjoy the time I spend with him; but, for quite some time now, he has consistently reminded me that it’s not worth the stress that I put myself through.  I was expecting him to reaffirm what Samantha had told me to do.

I am a very impatient person, by the way.  I decided to just go and do it.  I opened up with the whole spiel about how it was just going to take me some time before I could trust him.  Then he said, “That’s what I meant.”  He doesn’t want to “just be the next guy” because I’m not over X.  Here we go again!  I, of course, went on the defensive and insisted that I definitely don’t love X anymore.  I was taken aback by how he explained himself:

You aren’t over X.  Maybe you aren’t in love with him, but you aren’t over what happened.  I don’t want to just be the next guy – like, I don’t want to be in a serious relationship with someone who isn’t over their previous one.  And I understand that it’s going to take time, it took me three-and-a-half years to get over [one of his exes].  I just don’t want to be punished for someone else’s sins.  I’m okay with what we have going on now and I really enjoy spending time with you.  I just can’t be in a serious relationship with you right now.

I was set at both peace and turbulence by this:  peace with what I have with Gaston, turbulence with the realization that I’m not over what happened with X.  Why can’t I just move on?  How do I go about making it happen?  How much longer will it be before I’m over it?

•     •     •     •     •

Later on Friday evening, Yuengling and I went to Polly’s to hang out.  It was rainy and gross outside, and we were both in that “I just want to have a chill, relaxing night” kind of mood.  I love Polly’s and want them to have successful business and everything, but I was really hoping that there wouldn’t be a lot of people there.  Thankfully, there wasn’t when we initially got there.  It picked up later, but it wasn’t packed out like it would normally be on a Friday night.

Anyways, I shared with him the conversation that I had with Gaston earlier in the afternoon.  Yuengling was a little shocked and asked, “Does Gaston actually want a relationship?”  Yuengling then asked me the same question that Samantha and Scarlet always come at me with:  “Is it really worth all the stress and frustration?”  Only, he added, “I mean, you guys are both going to be moving in a couple months,” to the end – which is true, but we’re actually looking for jobs in the same place (not to be with each other, just out of the convenience of being close to family).

For some reason, I really wanted a margarita Friday evening.  I love Mexican food and I am a regular at this restaurant in town that is owned by Teddy, a guy that is Ursula’s age and that we grew up going to school with.  Yuengling had never been there, so we decided that a night at Los Compadres was on the agenda for Saturday.

After drinking for several hours at Polly’s, I decided to call it a night.  I was tipsy, which was okay because Yuengling had driven anyways.  Once we got back to my apartment, we decided to stop in and invite Napoleon to our Mexican dinner.  Upon greeting us, Napoleon asked me if I was in a better mood than the previous evening, which I was, so I replied with a “yes”. He then says, “Yea, you were acting so stupid last night.  It was really immature, especially just because you were jealous.”

Sometimes Napoleon can be such an ass!  This comment was completely unnecessary.  I didn’t feel like getting into it with him, but I was fuming inside.  There have also been other times before when I’ve tried to ask for his advice or just talk to him about Gaston and he’s responded in a similar manner.  When I got into bed, I couldn’t sleep and after 20 minutes of tossing and turning, I decided to just get it out on paper.  Here is the note that my tipsy self wrote:

Napoleon,

You know that I love you as a friend, I truly do.  But I’ve just come to accept that you are not someone that I can talk to about Gaston.  It’s not like I think you will tell him or anything – if I was worried about that, I wouldn’t say anything in the first place – it’s just that it hurts me too much when you go off on how you “don’t care” or “don’t want to hear it.”  So, unless you want to hear me explain myself (which you’ve made very clear that you don’t), I would appreciate it if we just left that topic of conversation out of our friendship – because it’ll never do anything but frustrate either of us.

<3, Elliott

I’ve decided not to give it to him, at least not right now…

•     •     •     •     •

Last night it ended up being Yuengling, Napoleon, Scarlet, and me at Los Compadres.  It was pretty tame for the most part, but then Scarlet had one of his most crafty ideas ever:  tell Gaston that I’m pregnant as an April Fool’s joke.  All four of us roared in laughter and Napoleon was especially insistent upon seeing it through.

There is a girl in Scarlet’s and my degree program that is pregnant (I think she’s due in July).  So, as disgusting as this is, I’m going to buy a pregnancy test for her to pee on so that I can have “proof” for Gaston.

This is definitely going to come back and bite me in the ass, but for right now we’re running with it!

Punch Drunk Love

(Originally written on March 27, 2009)

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The same night that Gaston wanted to fight X, he was supposed to spend the night over at my place.  Well, when he got back both of us were drunk and upset about X and for some reason were having a sentimental conversation about the whole thing.  He was uncharacteristically emotional and dramatic and ended up saying that he could never be with me because, and I quote (even though I was drunk, I remember this quite clearly because it was so unlike him), “I saw you looking at him.  You just don’t look at me the way you look at X.  You still love him.”

Let me get a few things straight:

1. If I look at X with any particular emotions, they are disgust, pain, and betrayal, NOT love.
2. X is always going to hold a special place in my heart.  He was my first real boyfriend; we each lost our virginity to each other, and we were together for five years.
3. I haven’t really spoken to him since we broke up and I essentially don’t even know who he is anymore.  And I don’t care…so I definitely don’t still love him.

Anyways, the next day he had no recollection of this statement, so I just dismissed it as drunken banter.

Well, it came up in conversation over lunch yesterday – I believe I was just poking fun at him for being so emotional.  Gaston then told me, “I remember when I said that.  I know what I meant, but it came out wrong.”  Naturally, I asked what it was.  And he won’t tell me because “It is just something that doesn’t need to be said.”  He said that it was a “fact based on perception” about something that I do in terms of X.  That drives me crazy!  For one thing, if it’s based on perception, it’s not a fact.  Secondly, how am I supposed to do anything about it if I don’t know what it is?

So that was left unaddressed and he went to his interview.  Turns out that he did so well that they offered him a second interview on the spot.  So…we went to Polly’s to start drinking at like 6pm once he got back in town (“we” being Gaston, Napoleon, and me).  The plan was celebrating and then I finally would get to have decent sex when we got home.  However, as soon as we walk into the bar, there sits Slutty McSlutterson, a girl who he hooked up with once a while back and who he always focuses 100% of his attention on whenever she’s around.  Another one of our friends, Yuengling, was there with her (he was the very first person to complete the Around the World 100 Beer Club).

So we start off with Yuengling buying the four of us a round of shots (Napoleon is off the sauce for Lent), to which we toasted finding a job.  Shooter and Voodoo, the bartenders, both claimed that toast was lame, so we decided to do another shot.  No one was coming up with anything, so I jumped in with:  “To great sex, crazy stories, and good friends!”  Then, right before we all start drinking, Gaston goes, “Well I’m definitely not getting any of those.”

Seriously?  It’s been driving me nuts that we haven’t had sex and I’ve been trying to get him to do it all week!  So I texted him asking if he really felt that way, to which he replied, “Not lately.”  Then I texted him “Well you seemed pretty pleased on Monday.  Other than that, the only reason we haven’t had sex is because you keep standing me up!”  No reply on that one.

Anyways, Slutty McSlutterson ended up leaving at some point, planning to come back out.  After she was gone, Gaston was ready to stop ignoring me and I brought up how it bothered me and said something along the lines of him preferring to be with her. Besides claiming that she didn’t know anyone else there (even though she was there with Yuengling when we came in…), he started going off on me for being a jealous person and not trusting him.

He told me that’s why we aren’t in a relationship.

I know it’s not fair for me to punish him for what Beast and X have done, but he should understand that trust is something that takes time.  I can’t believe that he seriously won’t date me just because it bothers me when he flirts with other girls…

This really upset me and I decided to walk home because I was about to burst into tears, and I did as soon as I stepped out the door.  Yuengling came running out after me to make sure that I was okay and offered me a ride.  It was really nice that he did that.  But I decided that I wanted to walk it off and he made me promise to text him when I got home.

I was finally able to talk to Samantha for the first time in what feels like forever.  I called her crying about the whole situation when I got into bed (it was at like 8:30pm).  Even though I didn’t want to hear it, she told me exactly what to do:  move on.  I just really like him and I’ve put so much into it.  I know that I could probably do better, but I don’t care, there’s just something about him.  I don’t know what it is, but it’s keeping me here.

Well, I’m about to go shower and whatnot – Yuengling and I are going to Polly’s for a chill night, where we’ll probably discuss all of what is contained in this post.  I’ll let you know how it goes.