consequently, i just smoked a cigarette, ate three cupcakes and cried into a plate of risotto in a packed restaurant (a restaurant that used to be my favorite restaurant (but is now just the worst place on the planet)) while my friend patted my back and our waiter toddled awkwardly around us trying to discern if i was, in fact, weeping or if the liquid gushing from my face was… something else.
GAME. FUCKING. OVER.
so, real talk - and stop me if this is just the early onset depression (oh, anon, you were so right: “Treatment is often prompted by depression associated with dissolved romantic relationships”) talking and i’m wrong here, but - it seems to me the only logical next step is to trick someone into marrying me?
because, in addition to having histrionic personality disorder (self diagnosed, and anon diagnosed), i also suffer from delusions of reference, so i’m certain their engagement is directly related to me and further confirms my suspicions that i am both undesirable and unlovable and that they got engaged deliberately to ruin my life.
SOMEONE SHAKE ME, JESUS CHRIST.
and therefore, i must retaliate and find a husband immediately.
i’m still fleshing out the logistics of the get married plan (serious okcupid profile? sleeping around? sugar daddy?), but stay tuned… i’m bound to do something hugely destructive!
…At piano camp (not even kidding), a boy told me he liked me and/or thought I was pretty.
but, that he had seen me eating a buttered bagel and that he no longer liked me or thought I was pretty.
I like to remember this and convince myself this is the case with every guy I’ve met in the past year. (To be fair, I am sloppy and look disgusting when I eat…)
My mom once told me no one would ever love me because I’m selfish. LOL. She’s so dumb… it’s obviously because of the bagel thing. LOL. LOL.
i’m not sure; i’ve never been on a date before. well, i’ve sort of been on maybe three dates but i didn’t know they were dates until they were happening or over and then i was like oh i’m on / just went on a date. so this is a unique experience.
or it will be.
or it won’t be.
i don’t know. i still don’t know if what it is is a “date” and if it is a “date” if it’s even happening. somehow i’ve managed to fuck up this potential date situation thing solely through a brief text conversation. idk. maybe it’s the way i text or maybe it’s nothing, maybe i don’t know what i’m talking about (likely). or maybe i have actually turned this person off and he’s totally not interested. which would be so weird, right? because i’m so cool and funny and attractive and … normal. mainly, normal.
in any case!! i don’t know what to do or how to behave so i had this conversation with my friend:
me: what am i supposed to do? how am i supposed to act? do i act like i’m like this cool 20 something person or should i act older? or, like, what do i act like????
really great friend: ???? you. um. you act like yourself.
i’m not trying to be funny when i say: my mind has never been so blown, you guys. never.
i was going to act like a completely different person (
which, actually, is probably the right thing for ME to do. but, in general, acting like oneself is the way to go) (i crossed that out because i’m working on being more confident. LOLOLOL).
then my friend added: just. not so much of you. the less A.D.D version. a more… not so much of crazy you.
i have to admit something:
i am TERRIBLE at being normal. like, the worst. im incapable of doing things in a normal way without acting like a dumbass, saying something mildly to severely indicative of having tourette’s or reacting totally inappropriately to something.
so it’s no surprise that last week, when a boy i’ve liked for MONTHS came over to my apartment, i did absolutely everything in my power to act like an idiot (AGAIN; same guy), starting with me asking him if he was “an asshole now?” to which he replied “yeah maybe” (something like that; not exactly sure, i was pretty drunk. fantastic) to which I responded “come home with me.” LIKE, WHAT?! i have a huge problem.
(it should also be noted that i lack any sort of self confidence or, for that matter, self respect. which is why i let this happen, despite the fact that this person had not spoken to me in MONTHS (no, not great, not a great move) and, yeah, also because he did not deny that he may be an asshole).
so i stumble into my apartment (he walked normally) and all this asshole can ask me is how i got this place. i was LITERALLY speechless. as in, i was completely unable to answer that question. how. did. i. get. this. apartment? uh… i mean, i still have no answer. he was acting like we were standing in fucking eaton square for god’s sake. this is stuy town, not the plaza, man. i’m not eloise (!), i’m mercedes and i’m standing here in a mini skirt. now PAY ATTENTION. and take my clothes off.
a while ago, when i was kind of lazily trying to get back together with my ex boyfriend (like, why not?), he told me he wasn’t in the place to have a girlfriend and that he was busy and working on stuff (or something, i don’t know. i NEVER listen to him) and you know, all those other bullshit things you tell people when you just aren’t interested or want to have the upper hand. (in this case: upper hand. trying to get it. reaching hard.)
so, obviously, all of a sudden i wasn’t in the place to have a boyfriend, i was busy and also i was working on stuff (lots of stuff, but mainly this blog and crying). i mean, duh. i broke up with him, i couldn’t just come crawling back. #notwinning, guys.
so we were friends. and we were talking. and then being friends got weird. and then we weren’t really friends and we weren’t really talking. and then, i break the silence and send a ‘hey let’s catch up’ email. to which i get a ‘hey what’s up, we’re so casual and friendly but we’re exes too, so that’s cool and mature of us but let’s keep it short’ response and amidst all of that nonsense bullshit chit chat, he’s all like aaaaaaand “i’m seeing someone.”
(aaaaaaaaaand i just killed myself. what??)