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…

WTF is wrong with me?

(Originally written on May 14, 2009)

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At one point this past Sunday (which was Mother’s Day, by the way), Martyr brought up the touchy topic of Gaston and me. Here’s how the conversation went:

I can tell he really likes you, Elliott.

Really?  What makes you say that?

I saw the way he was looking at you the other night [the Friday before graduation, at Polly’s after the MMR dinner].  I could just tell.

She further proceeded to reinforce this notion.  It really made me happy at first – I mean, Martyr often can be full of shit and extra emotional when it comes to amorous love/dating/relationship stuff, especially after the whole ordeal between her and Beast.  It’s just hard to decipher whether it’s true that Gaston actually can’t help but subconsciously emote his feelings toward me without realizing it, or if she just romanticized it within the walls of her own mind.

•     •     •     •     •

I think that Yuengling personally has it out for me – I’m not sure why he would, but it’s becoming harder and harder to overlook and dismiss my suspicions.  First off, when he kissed me and I told him it wasn’t okay, he went and told Gaston about it a week later (apparently because he felt he needed to “come clean” to his friend), portrayed it as a mutual-attraction occurrence, and didn’t tell me about his having done that (Gaston told me about it during the blog confrontation).  I never mentioned it to Gaston because I felt it was an irrelevant mistake on Yuengling’s part and I saw it as water under the bridge.  So Yuengling’s portrayal to Gaston that the kiss was mutual made me look as though I was trying to hide it from Gaston or something.  Anyways, moving on…  Then, whenever anything goes wrong between Gaston and me, he is the first to tell me that it’s over (he actually makes it a point to immediately say it) – even going so far as to say that Gaston asserted that “fact” himself.  Then, he told “only Slim” at Polly’s about my blog (Leto told me that she found out about it from Yuengling too), but once he realized that I knew, he sent me the e-mail blaming me for it!  Not just that, but he and Leto propagated the charades by lying to me, telling me that Gaston didn’t know about it, when in actuality they were both present for several occasions at Polly’s when everyone had been giving him a hard time about it (for who knows how long).

I can’t figure out what I could have possibly done to cause his repeated betrayal to me like this.

Anyways, this leads right in to what happened last night:

Yuengling, Leto, Gaston, and I went to a bluegrass show.  Afterwards, we decided to go to Polly’s (what a surprise), which is on the completely opposite side of downtown.  Once we were about four blocks away from the venue, I realized that I may have left my camera there, so I stopped dead in my tracks and began to dig through my massive cluttered purse to look for it, just to be sure.  The three of them all continued walking for a block before even noticing that I wasn’t still with them.  Upon this realization, they briefly paused and yelled back at me to see why I had stopped.  As soon as I told them that I thought I left my camera, they all then continued walking in the opposite direction toward Polly’s, leaving me alone to fend for myself in a sketchy part of town.

I had walked nearly a block when an SUV abruptly pulled up next to where I was on the sidewalk and a guy hopped out and came after me, hitting me in the face in the process.  Somehow – and I have absolutely no idea how – I managed to get away, running the rest of the way to the bluegrass venue.  Incredibly, the other guy stayed in the car the whole time and they didn’t try to come back for me.

When I got there, sure enough, my camera was still on top of the table where we had been sitting.  Up to this point, I had been able to fend off tears, even though I was overwhelmingly distraught – I was quivering with adrenaline and shock.  However, once I got my camera, I uncontrollably burst into teary waterworks.  I called Gaston in attempt to tell him what had happened and seek his comfort, but he didn’t answer his phone.  I called him again and when he didn’t answer, I left a voicemail.  About five minutes later, he called me back, not having listened to my message.  Of course, he asked me why I was crying.  I didn’t feel like repeating the story; I didn’t want to think about it (even though I couldn’t help but do so).  He became angry and hung up on me once I asked him to listen to his voicemail.  What a bastard!  He had no idea what I had just gone through!  And made it obvious that he wasn’t interested in finding out by refusing to simply listen to my message.

I continued to walk to Polly’s by myself, balling my eyes out the entire way.  Once I got there, I saw that my wonderful trio of friends was yukking it up at the back of the bar.  On my way to the bathroom to try to clean myself up a bit and grab some tissues, I passed them without saying a word – or even looking at them.  I then walked back past them in the same manner, sat down at a table at the front of the bar with my back to them, and ordered a double bourbon.

Less than 10 minutes later, Gaston comes up to me to inform me that they have decided on “a change of scenery” and to invite me to go along with them.  Still crying, I shake my head no.  Then,

What’s wrong?

Have you listened to the message I left you?

Yea.

That’s what’s wrong.

Well we’re leaving, so are you still gonna sit here and be angry?  Or are you gonna come with us?

What do you fucking think?  After what had just happened – someone tried to fucking abduct me!  What does he think?  That I was asking for that, I was looking for that?

I think I replied with something along the lines of, “Go ahead, leave me,” and then he got angry at me and stormed out of the bar to where Yuengling and Leto were waiting for him.

Who is he to place the blame on me – like I have no right to be angry with him for just leaving me to walk along by myself through a sketchy part of town to get my camera when he’s gotten mad at me for every time I’ve walked home?  That cannot be placed on me.  That is him.  I have to remember that it’s HIM.  He didn’t care enough to walk with me this one time (which goes to show all those times he got upset with me were just bullshit and he didn’t REALLY care) and after realizing what resulted from that, he didn’t care enough to apologize or even TRY to be there for me.  I HAVE to remember that.

On top of all of this, Yuengling had driven the four of us downtown and he – probably even more so than Gaston – is (usually) overprotective and gets upset with me whenever I walk home by myself.  So after I finished my double bourbon, I texted him saying that I was ready to go home and asked him when he was planning on leaving downtown.  Even after I explained to him what had happened (via text), he still just nonchalantly told me to find another way home.

Other than Gaston and company, I have very few friends left in town.  After graduation, everyone either moved back home to be with family or got jobs and relocated for that purpose.  I called Ursula to see if she could pick me up and she actually answered her phone for once.  However, she was downtown drinking, herself.  So that was a no-go.  Thankfully, I was able to get in touch with Flower-Child and she picked me up and drove me home, all the while consoling me about the whole evening’s turn of events.  She was my saving grace.

•     •     •     •     •

Even though I knew that I should just let it be, I approached Gaston in his apartment this afternoon to confront him about last night’s events.  Basically, he claimed that he couldn’t be held at fault because he “can’t read my mind to know what I want”.  To me, it’s not about that, but about honestly caring for a friend and wanting to be there for them when they need you (which I obviously did last night)…

At any rate, we then got onto the topic of our “relationship” or whatever it is that you want to call it.

I don’t understand how, if you really feel so strongly about me, you aren’t willing to work through this.

How can we work through this?  What is there to work on?  You put my life up on the internet and everyone’s read it.

Why can’t we be whatever we were and then if you decide you don’t want it, just end it then?

Because everything’s changed!

Then why are you having such a hard time making your decision?  That’s a sign.

I’M JUST NOT SURE YOU’RE WORTH MY TIME!

Wow…  Just not sure if I’m worth his time…  Who does he think he is? That statement made me furious and put me on the defensive.  This time, my tears were a mix of desolation combined with anger,

Then why have you been misleading me, giving me false hope?  What was going through your mind when you slept with me last week?!  What about the other night when we were watching Spinal Tap?!  The cuddling and the holding hands and the kissing – that was all you!

I can’t help that I’m human and I have weak moments.  I realized at the time that it was a mistake and that I probably shouldn’t have been doing it, but I did.

All I can say right now is:  wow, how can I have been so foolish and let this bastard get so deep under my skin and put me through such anguish?

A New Chapter

(Originally written on May 11, 2009)

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It has gotten to the point where I’ve lost hope in finding an ideal job and I have just started applying to anything and everything for which I think I stand any realistic chance whatsoever at being hired for.  Just this past Wednesday, I was extended an offer as a summer intern at a poultry company and I accepted it.  By no means is this what I think of as an exciting company to work for, but some source of income is way better than no source of income.  This company, we’ll call it Chickadee, currently has absolutely no marketing research department at the moment, so I’m basically going to be their guinea pig.  I’m kinda excited about it, though, because they want to make use of my graphic design skills in addition to the research and statistics.  I know that I will be working at their corporate office, but I can’t help but picture in my mind that I will be driving up to the building through a field of chicken houses.  It’s also discouraging knowing that it’s a one-hour commute (one-way, two hours roundtrip) away.

This was also the same day of my final client project presentation for the company that sent me out to Cincinnati for a second interview over spring break and then didn’t even offer me a job – they instead gave it to the biggest idiot in our class who just happens to have mastered the art of schmoozing.  Nevertheless, out of the six of us on the student project team, five interviewed with them, four received second interviews, two were extended job offers, and one accepted.  So, really, none of us wanted to be there, except, perhaps, the one who accepted their job offer.  Needless to say, the lunch preceding the presentation was the longest hour-and-a-half of my life. For example, they asked us if anyone was taking a vacation to celebrate graduating.  There was a seven-second hesitation/pause/dead silence before we each went around the table and all just plainly and bluntly said, “No”.  After that torturous lunch, the presentation just couldn’t end soon enough.  And then we got stuck in rush-hour traffic and our hour-and-twenty-minute drive home became two hours long.  It was excruciating.

Meanwhile, in the midst of all of that, Bacchus finally got back to me and told me that they want to fly me out to California in a week.  I’m excited about going there and checking everything out for myself, but I’m still basically internally knocking it out of contention because I don’t want to move so far away where I know absolutely no one.

•     •     •     •     •

By the way, I forgot to mention last time that when Gaston found out the web address of my blog and read it, he immediately showed it to Napoleon (and probably called Tomboy and told her about it too).  If he was so extremely embarrassed by my publishing of his “life” on the internet, WHY THEN SHOW IT TO MORE OF HIS FRIENDS?

Anyway, as far as avoiding Gaston and everyone associated with him…that’s not going so well (My weakness is pretty predictable, isn’t it?).  Gaston still hasn’t made any decision as to whether or not he wants to continue whatever it was that we had going on between us before the blog eruption.  I also forgot to make mention of this last time:  during the blog confrontation, Gaston told me that he was “really starting to love [me]” and that he hasn’t fallen for a girl this hard since Heartbreaker, the “benchmark” girlfriend, if you will, who tore out his heart right after high school and continued to stomp on it for a couple years afterward (he compares – or I should say, compared – everything in our “relationship” to that one).  Given that he feels so strongly that way, why is this decision so hard for him?  If you really love someone, why drag them along like this?

Yuengling thinks Gaston and I are done.  Again.  Before we all went downtown on Thursday night and it was just the two of us in the apartment, I asked Gaston if I could spend the night with him and he replied, “Sure, if you want to.  I don’t care.”  Then I asked him if he would ever spend the night at my apartment again and he told me, “We’ll have to see,” in a skeptic tone, not optimistically.  But he’s always that way, so I didn’t think much of it.  Well, once we were at Polly’s and I was talking with Yuengling about the whole blog situation, he informed me that Gaston had told him about my asking to stay the night and (apparently) played it up to Yuengling in a “I can’t believe she can’t tell that I’m done with her” sort of way, as though he’s made his decision obvious to me.  Why would Gaston even tell him about that?  I know that he did because he was the only person in the apartment with me when I asked!  That is just completely unnecessary to me.  Anyways, in conjunction with Yuengling’s belief that Gaston and I are over, Yuengling also said that Gaston would never actually tell me his decision and would just wait for it to fade or “prompt” me to do it.  I asked Yuengling if Gaston actually said those words and he responded, “No, it’s just his type.”  How comforting.

•     •     •     •     •

Completely opposite of what I just described above, last night Gaston invited me over (yes, you read that correctly, he instigated it) to just hang out and watch TV.  He ended up convincing me to watch This Is Spinal Tap with him.  I had never seen it before and thought it was going to be, like, a documentary about a death metal band (and I’m not a big fan of that particular genre of music).  I don’t know why I was under that impression…  The band name “Spinal Tap” just makes me think of it that way I guess…  Nevertheless, it was actually really good!

Throughout the whole movie, Gaston was being so affectionate.  He was playing with my hands, sweetly kissing me, pulling me closer to cuddle with him…  And after the movie, there was no attempt from either of us toward hooking up and I simply went back to my apartment to go to bed.  I can’t quite describe how amazing it felt.  Genuine and – dare I say – loving.

It really pulled at my heartstrings and makes me feel more confident that Gaston really does want to be with me.

•     •     •     •     •

On another note, I am done with school for FOREVER!  What a relief – even though I would feel a little better having the cushioning of a real job…  I have been awaiting this moment for quite some time now:  no more studying, no more tests, no more class, no more seminars!  Woo-hoo!

Cinco De Mayo

(Originally written on May 5, 2009)

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I am currently sitting in my apartment playing Power Hour by myself with Kings of Leon songs.  Earlier this evening, I went out with Scarlet to Los Compadres for multiple margaritas.  Regrettably, Gaston was supposed to go with me.  Obviously, that didn’t happen.

Gaston just revealed to me on Sunday that he, too, knew the web address of my blog and had read it.  There has been nothing but disaster since then.  I just don’t understand, even now, why he waited over a week to tell me about it – especially since he was embarrassed by it and knew that our other friends had been reading it (even though I had no clue).  Apparently, whenever I’m not at Polly’s, they all call him “Gaston” now – including the employees.

I mean, I fully understand his being upset, but WHY WAIT TO TELL ME?!  Not just that, but he had been exceptionally caring and sweet to me during that period leading up to the disastrous revelation.  I mean, he was kissing me in public, holding my hand, dancing with me, cuddling, and sleeping with me – all things that he doesn’t normally do, let alone, instigate.  How can you do those things with someone when you’re fuming inside with anger at them?

Earlier today, he said that he would definitely consider giving me a second chance.  Then, later on (about three or four hours later), he blew up:  he had previously promised that he would go to Los Compadres with me since Teddy had been asking to meet him; he was waiting on Whitie to call him to take him to get a prescription filled (Whitie is legally blind, as many albinos are, and therefore can’t drive); there was an MMR Cinco de Mayo party going on starting at 3pm that I missed because I was waiting on the call from Gaston telling me that he was ready to go.  I knew another party that he was going to started at 8pm, so at 7pm I decided to come down and ask him about going to Los Compadres since he hadn’t answered any of my calls or texts; I was locked out and he told me he’d come let me in in a minute.  I waited for 15 minutes before going up to my apt to get my “break-in” card.  Even after that, he made me wait a few minutes outside of his locked bedroom door before opening it.

Turns out that he was just locked in his room playing a computer game the whole time.  That’s why I was kept waiting outside, being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

I then asked him if he still wanted to go to Los Compadres with me since it was already 7:30pm and I, with the information he had previously provided me with, knew that he had the birthday party to go to at 8pm.

As I said earlier, he was receptive to my request for a second chance.   At this point, however, he was pissed-off that at 7:30pm he hadn’t realized that he had let the day pass him by.  Thus, I assumed that his anger was due to these inconvenient circumstances (besides his obvious preexisting frustration with me, of course).  Then he realized that he didn’t have a new razor head and “had to” shave with a dull one.  I offered to go grab a new one from my apartment (which would have taken all of 30 seconds…), but he insisted on using his dull one.  Why do that?

So I sat there and we had regular conversation while he was shaving.  Then he checked his phone and finally got my texts about being eaten alive by mosquitoes.  He proceeds to scold me, “You shouldn’t have let them bite you.”  Okay…there was a swarm of probably 20 of them, and you can’t feel it while they’re biting you, only afterwards when you itch.  I had three large welts on my back (I was wearing a floor-length, strapless dress), two on my right arm, and one on my left shoulder.  He then EXPLODED and ensued yelling at me for scratching the bites, “You’re not supposed to scratch them!  They’re going to get infected!”

I know that you aren’t supposed to scratch them, but in all my life, I have been bitten by thousands of mosquitoes (they love me for some reason) and I have always scratched my bites and never once has one of them gotten infected.

In a fit of rage, he left the apartment and I followed him out.  I mentioned that the whole going-to-his-friend’s-birthday-party-tonight thing was probably “more important” than accompanying me to Los Compadres. Then he ERUPTED and started speed-walking to his car, not allowing me to even explain myself:  a couple of weeks ago, he was supposed to go to her dance recital, but he didn’t go because he was hung-over and we were just chilling on the sofa, watching TV.  Finally, I was able to get a word in and explain this, upon which he spat back, “Well I wonder what I was doing instead,” and then furiously drove off, causing my major crisis of the day.

•     •     •     •     •

Yuengling wants to be there for me, but he is the cause of this whole thing in the first place.  I mean, he told Gaston about the time he (Yuengling) kissed me when I was sloshed (after which, I told him that it wasn’t okay) without ever even telling me he felt that was necessary or that he was going to do it.  Then, Napoleon told Gaston that he had seen Yuengling leaving my apartment at 8am one morning.  Okay – there was one time that we accidentally had passed out on my sofa while watching An American Tail:  Fivel Goes West after an evening at Polly’s.  Yuengling and I both agree (conflicting Napoleon’s account) that we woke up by around 4:30am and he definitely left by 5am.

•     •     •     •     •

I am now just deciding to avoid Gaston at all costs.  I have essentially lost almost – no, all – of my friends due to this and have no one other than Angel and Scarlet to turn to for advice.

•     •     •     •     •

I honestly love him.  I know a million people can tell me that I don’t deserve the way he treats me; BUT I also know that a million people would never do to him the disservice that I did by posting our personal interactions publically over the internet.

I have royally fucked myself over.

The Beginning of the Blog Disaster

(Originally written on April 30, 2009)

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Every semester, the Friday that would normally be the last day of classes is set aside as “Reading Day”, a day during which all classes are cancelled with the intention that students hole themselves up in the library or SLC (which stands for Student Learning Center for those of you who are not familiar with this abbreviation) to study for the final exams that lie ahead of them.  Naturally, this makes Thursday the last day of classes – however, the class schedule on this Thursday is as it would be if it were a Monday.  I believe this is done because classes are most often cancelled on Mondays in lieu of holidays (e.g., Labor Day, MLK, Jr. Day, Memorial Day, etc…).

Anyways, yesterday’s (Wednesday) class schedule was as usual, so, basically, we had our MW (abbreviation for Monday/Wednesday) classes three out of the four days this week.  Today I turned in two final projects:  one for each of the classes I have on MW (which are both taught by the same prof).  He’s a pretty smart guy in figuring that we were all going to procrastinate on both of our projects, even though we had the entire semester to do them.  So, instead of having regular class yesterday, he made it optional to come to the classroom during normal class hours to ask any questions about our projects that we may have still had remaining.

Scarlet and I decided to go to our first class promptly at 9:30am so that we could go ahead and get our questions asked early and then resume our analysis and report writing (the questions we had were important to get answered before proceeding so not to waste time and effort doing work that was incorrect).  By 10am or so, we had gotten all of those questions addressed.  Scarlet went home, but I instead decided to go to Polly’s and resume working on my projects so that I could still conveniently go back to campus for the second class period later – just in case I had any other vital questions arise.

By around noon, I ended up having gotten everything done except the proofreading of the write-ups, which I decided I was just going to get up early and do this morning.  Just about five minutes after making this decision, Sly ended up coming in early for his bartending shift and he joined me in drinking the afternoon away.  Working behind the bar at this point were Kip, Shooter, and Cranberry (Shooter’s smiley-er older brother).

I’ve met Cranberry a handful of times, but I was drunk every time, so I couldn’t remember his name.  Thus, I decided to “re-introduce” myself and everything was all “oh, it’s nice to officially re-meet you” and whatnot.  HOWEVER, about a half-hour later Cranberry approached me with the following question:

Oooh – are you the girl with the blog?

I mean, a lot of people have blogs these days…that’s a kinda odd question to ask someone you just “met”.  With a skeptic look on my face I replied,

Yea…I have a blog…

You’re the one who uses Disney names for people, right?

Once more, I was taken aback.  How could this guy – that I don’t really even know – know that about me?  Again, I skeptically replied,

Yea…

Oh, that’s some juicy stuff!

I was MORTIFIED.  I was completely comfortable posting such intimate details of my life on the internet for all to see because everything was anonymous.  But now that comfort of being protected under a blanket of secrecy was all gone.  My mind was swarming with questions.  How does he know about my blog?  If he knows, who all else knows?  OH MY GOD…DOES GASTON KNOW?

I sat there in shock for a couple of minutes with all of this flowing through my mind.  I mean, this could potentially change the nature of a majority of my friendships.  Not just that, but people I don’t even know (but I know who they are and visa-versa) may have unfavorable impressions of me and think they know me and who I am (I mean, this is obviously me, but not the “me” that I openly project to the general public).  Who knows how far the reverberations from this can extend?

Meanwhile, Sly kept pleading, “Juicy stuff?!  I want to read this blog!  I mean, Cranberry’s read it – and you had to ask me what his name was earlier!”

There was only one person (other than Scarlet, who doesn’t hang out with the Polly’s crowd anyway) who knew about my blog’s exact web address:  Yuengling.  I mean, everyone knows that I have a blog, but they also know that I want to keep it anonymous.  Here’s how he found out:  one afternoon at Polly’s, probably between my classes on a Monday or Wednesday, Yuengling stumbled upon me posting an entry and asked me what I was doing.  He caught me off-guard (I had probably consumed a few beers and was off my A-game) and I told him it was my blog – BUT I made him swear to secrecy, never to tell anyone.  He was the only possible leak.

At the moment, the only way to find out if Yuengling was, in fact, the culprit was to ask Cranberry.

How do you know about my blog?

Slim was showing it to me just the other night.

How the hell does Slim know (Slim works in the kitchen at Polly’s, by the way)?  And how long ago was the web address of my blog released to the public?  …Cranberry said “the other night”…  And if Slim casually showed my blog to Cranberry, who all else did he inform?

I asked the other bartenders if they knew.

• Kip:  yes.
• Shooter:  yes.
• Voodoo:  yes.

I immediately called and texted Yuengling.  A couple of times, actually.  No response.

Once I got back from Polly’s, I dropped my stuff off in my apartment, deleted my blog from the internet, and went downstairs to see what the neighbors were up to.  Gaston, Napoleon, and Leto were all chilling in Gaston’s and Napoleon’s apartment watching TV.  After sitting down next to Gaston, I announced, “Oh my god, everyone at Polly’s knows about my blog and has read it.  Yuengling must have told them – he’s the only one who knew.  But oh well, I’ve taken it down anyways.”  Not a word in response from either of the three of them.  I just figured this was because they were deeply absorbed into whatever it was that they were watching on TV.

When the show ended, Gaston and Leto headed for downtown and I headed up to bed.  Yuengling still hadn’t called or texted me back. To me, this silence was an immediate admission of guilt.  All afternoon and night I awaited his explanation and got nothing.

…until this afternoon.  I received an e-mail from Yuengling (not sure how he found my e-mail address…).  An e-mail.  In it, he basically put all the blame on me and said that other people also knew about my blog without him telling them.  Okay…and how is that possible, exactly – given that it contained nothing identifiable as either myself or any of the others that I wrote about? Anyways, he claimed that Slim was the only person he told and that it happened accidentally:  Yuengling had been looking at my blog on his phone’s internet browser; Slim asked to borrow said phone;  Yuengling handed it over; Slim asked what was up on the browser; Yuengling told him.  This, of course, happened at Polly’s (Yuengling basically lives there, he’s there every day and night, literally) and Yuengling claimed it was a drunk slip-up and that he didn’t even remember it happened until I asked about it.  Okay, we all make stupid drunken mistakes.  Whatever.  I just wish he could have told me right after it happened.

Later on this afternoon, I ran into Leto on my way to our apartment “pool” (pool in quotes because it’s so small it can easily be confused with a puddle).  We talked for a few minutes and I expressed my concern about my blog’s discovery.  Then she tells me that she has known about my blog for about a week.  Why didn’t she say something last night when I mentioned it? The next question out of my mouth:  “Does Gaston know about it?”  She says he doesn’t.  phew! Then, oddly enough, she tells me,

Don’t take this the wrong way, but you actually write really well.  I was surprised.

I mean, I’ll take a compliment, but said this in a really authoritative way, with an air of “I’m smarter than you”.  Let’s see here, I do have a Bachelor’s degree and am about to have my Master’s – she doesn’t even have a Bachelor’s degree!  What would make her think…ahh whatever. Well at least someone said something that wasn’t directed toward the “juicy” nature of the content.

I have a feeling that, even though I’ve taken care of removing my blog from the internet, I haven’t seen the end of the reverberations from this.  All I can do now is wait and see…

It’s Always Something

(Originally written on April 19, 2009)

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I realize that my posts have been becoming fewer and farther-between lately.  This is because graduation is approaching and my professors and project team members just continue to regurgitate more and more of a workload into my lap.  Especially my client project.  But I won’t get into that, it’s incredibly uninteresting and, to be perfectly honest, I’m tired from having worked on it like a madwoman over the past few days.  Anyways, I’ve finished my schoolwork for the day, so we’re moving on.

As far as the job front is going, the interview process with Bacchus isn’t moving as quickly as I had hoped it would.  I continue expecting phone interviews, and the same chick keeps calling me, asking the same questions, and telling me that she’ll call me back for another interview…As frustrating as this cycle is, there is nothing to be done.  I mean, it’s the best lead I have right now in terms of employment.  Oh well.

Thursday afternoon/evening/night, I went to Polly’s with Yuengling and Sly, a friend who looks just like Jack Black and bartends at Polly’s a bit; I probably arrived downtown at around 6pm or 7pm.  It was a pretty chill night and I wasn’t drinking that heavily because I had gotten severe sunburn out at the apartment “pool” (the quotes are because it’s not much bigger than the size of a puddle) with Napoleon earlier that afternoon.

Gaston and Napoleon had an engagement party to attend and then were going to come downtown.  At around 11pm, I was just tired and ready to go home.  However, Yuengling said he wasn’t comfortable driving yet and he needed to walk home one of our sloshed buddies (whose birthday was that night).  When he got back from this endeavor, he still wasn’t ready to drive – which was fine.  I normally would have had no problem waiting, but my sleepiness was more severe than I have ever experienced and I was trying to convince him that I would be fine walking home.

Right around 11:30pm or so, Gaston, Napoleon, and Leto all walked into Polly’s.  Leto and Napoleon greeted me; however, Gaston proceeded straight past me and toward the bar.  At this point I had already decided I was going home, so that didn’t even bother me like it usually would have.  Yuengling then went back to chat, I presume, and I saw this as my window to escape, so I left and texted him once I made it home safely.

I spent an unnecessarily drawn-out amount of time on Friday attending doctor appointments and getting prescriptions filled and finally made it back to the apartment around 3pm.  Napoleon was hanging out on their deck and I asked him what he and Gaston were up to for the evening.  “Well, Gaston is headed home, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

No freakin’ way.  This was the weekend of that frat party that Gaston asked me to be his date to a month ago.  I couldn’t believe he was about to stand me up again!

Last semester, Gaston invited me to their semiformal.  Turns out, he was drunk and didn’t remember asking me.  I gave him an out, saying it was no big deal if he didn’t want to go, but he insisted that we were going.  Two days before the semiformal, he disappeared and absolutely no one knew where he was (his phone was off).  The afternoon of the event, he sent me a text that he wasn’t going to be able to make it.  I mean, I know he hates confrontation, but good god!

Anyways, I had no reason to suspect otherwise this time because Napoleon’s information was the first I had heard of it.  Thus, I went back into Gaston’s room to receive confirmation.  He was playing all chill and everything, whatever, and then I asked if I could kiss him before I went up to my apartment to grab a bite to eat.

No.

Why not?  Are you going back on the deal we made the other day?

No, you just made a really stupid, irresponsible decision last night.

This conversation played out for quite some time, only to arrive at him telling me that I can do whatever I want to do and he wasn’t mad at me.

Well you always seem to have some excuse not to kiss me lately.  Do you not like kissing me?

You know the answer to that.  I like kissing you.

I just don’t understand, if you aren’t mad at me, why you’re punishing me.

I’m not punishing you.

Then why won’t you kiss me?

I’ve just had a bad day.

And, of course, he wouldn’t tell me what made his day bad.  He just insisted that he would be back Saturday by 6pm and that he would then take me to the party or whatever.

Then, as he was leaving he pulled me in for a hug and held me tighter for longer than usual, kissing my cheek.  When he eventually pulled away, he gave me a little peck on the lips (which is all I wanted in the first place) and reassured me that he would call when he headed back up.

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.”

Normal Everyday Life

(Originally written on April 4, 2009)

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The past few days have been pretty uneventful.  Yesterday I went to Polly’s for lunch with Martyr and, as usual, Yuengling was there.  After we ate, I decided to just hang out and I spent the rest of my day there looking for jobs (online).  I had Yuengling bring me home around 8:30pm or so.

“Why so early?”  You may ask.  The night before, Ursula, Flower-Child, and I went to Los Compadres and Teddy was spoiling me with Patron margaritas.  I pre-gamed before dinner with three beers over the course of probably two hours.  We were probably only at Los Compadres for three hours or so – during which I had three potent margaritas and a shot of tequila.  Needless to say, I got wasted.

So, I really didn’t feel like going out hardcore last night.

Once I got back, I remembered that Belle, another one of my neighbors, was going to just be chilling at the apartment.  Once I got back, I dropped off my stuff (purse, laptop, etc.), grabbed a glass of wine, and went downstairs to join her.  We sat on her front stoop for a bit while her ex-boyfriend smoked a cigar – which smelled fantastic, by the way.

They have a really weird relationship – which isn’t really even a relationship.  It’s odd.  They aren’t together, but they still do a lot of dating-like activities.  Belle tried to explain it to me a little bit last night when he stepped out for a phone call:  basically, she’s just not opposed to dating other people.  Yet, I don’t think she has dated anyone or even tried.  Oh well, whatever!

Anyways, I ended up chilling with them until midnight or so after we watched The Departed.

•     •     •     •     •

Ooh!  I completely forgot to mention it, but after the seminar last Monday, Scarlet and I were walking back to his car when there was this girl in front of us wearing a ridiculously short dress.  We both commented on it, of course – we can’t help ourselves sometimes.  Then I realized that it was Slutty McSlutterson!  I turned to him and blurted out, “Wait, is that Slutty McSlutterson?”  Yes – I actually referred to her by her code name, out loud, in public, right behind her…

Then, as we began to cross the street (she continued straight and we turned the corner), I called out “Slutty McSlutterson?”  (I actually used her real name that time).  She turned, still walking, and just said, “Oh, hi.  It’s nice to see you out!”  I’m not sure if she heard my earlier comment(s) (the s because she may have also heard us talking about how short her dress was), Scarlet insists that she didn’t, or if she was just in a rush, but it seemed as though she couldn’t get away fast enough.

•     •     •     •     •

I haven’t spoken a word to Gaston since Wednesday night.  It’s kinda different because he’s in Miami right now visiting Tomboy, his best friend.  He’s accompanying her to her law school prom or whatever.  So I still have absolutely no idea where that whole situation stands.

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.