One night, (I believe it was super bowl Sunday) Lucky and I had a long talk about how we are awkward and a-social, and how we genuinely feel there’s no one out there waiting for us. This conversation was prompted by #1 my drugs and #2 the fact that it was Snoop-Linus’ birthday, I sent him a Happy Birthday text, and heard nothing back for almost 24 hours. I was starting to get the feeling that I should just suck up all of Snoop-Linus’ bad habits and cheating ways and be with him, I texted Lucky for a reality check, but when it comes to the two of us we can quickly bring the other one down too, as I did with Lucky that very night.
Anyway, the point of this story is that I don’t know how to talk to people, and I’m afraid it has me doomed to be a lonely old maid or to be with what I know, someone who treats me like shit. I won’t lie, Snoop-Linus finally texted back, we got into an argument, I said some things he said some things, it was ok for a few days, and now it’s back to awful. If I can’t even get my cheating ex-boyfriend to give me any attention, how in the EFF am I supposed to get it from a nice guy?
It’s not just men that I feel like I can’t communicate with, it’s women too. Like I can’t even make conversation good enough/act interested enough in peoples lame stories slash lives to get a decent group of girlfriends. It all just seems so exhausting, and that is pretty much the same way I feel about dating. Hearing the backstory of every ex-boyfriend/girlfriend and lame friend they’ve had that got them where they are today wears me out. I mean that’s a lot of talking, and frankly if someone wants to put it all out there I’ll put my face into a pitcher of beer and listen. But, they better not expect me to reciprocate the stories, because if that’s the case we’re going to need something a lot stronger than beer. And by that I mean tranquilizers and a therapist.
Of course, I have my current friends who I will listen to/whine to about my problems all day long, but that’s because I already know their stories, I know the people in the stories, and I feel comfortable giving/asking for advice. But when you meet someone new and they are telling you all of these stories where they’re all, “Oh and THEN John drug me behind his car and left me in a dumpster for dead.” And when I say, “Oh thank god you got rid of him!” And in walks said John with their 3 kids and malshi-poo, I’m the asshole. So unacceptable.
So here I am, 1 month in to what was supposed to be the greatest decision/fresh start of my life and I’m pretty miserable. Not because I live in the laundry room of a frat house and have curtains for walls, but because I’m too lazy to make friends or find any kind of romantic life for myself. Even Anth doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore because I’m gross and lately have been coughing things up. I can’t help it, I’m sick. So now I don’t know what to do. For the time being I’m blaming it on the -10 degree weather and the fact that I’m still “adjusting.” But I can only use these excuses for so long until I have to suck it up and face reality: that I’m probably doomed to be alone forever. And just in the knick of time for Valentines Day (black holiday, as you will hear it commonly referred to by Lucky and myself.)
Speaking of Valentines day, I realized yesterday that I’m in the same, slightly modified, boat that I was last year. Last year at Valentines Day I was figuring things out with Snoop-Linus after he had cheated on me a few weeks earlier, and when it came to V-Day weekend he ignored me because I asked him to come home with me to see one of my best friends who was in from out of town. He said no because that would cut down on drinking time with his friends. I went alone and stayed at home for the weekend and asked my 6 year old sister to be my Valentine. She was the best Valentine I could’ve ever asked for, I bought her a Bratz doll and she got me candy and we watched movies all day. Of course, as soon as I woke up on actual V-day last year (which was a Sunday if you all recall) when the drinking had commenced Snoop-Linus was asking me to dinner for that night because, “There’s no one he’d rather spend Valentines day with,” I don’t think I ever got an apology for being treated like shit and ignored all weekend; I just got a dinner, that I should’ve rejected.
So, in the memory of traditions I’m asking my little sister to be my Valentine again this year. I’m going to drive my happy ass home tonight after work to play barbies and watch cartoons all weekend, and I couldn’t be happier about that decision. If I ever find a guy who is OK with watching Disney movies and drinking chocolate milk with my sister and I on said black holiday, he might be in the running as a decent boyfriend. This is all Neal Bledsoe’s fault. We could be together right now.