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Twig on Defeat

May 17, 2014

Now that I am trying to pass myself off as a somewhat emotionally stable individual, I find that additional piercings are an acceptable alternative to getting staggeringly drunk, overdosing on pain pills, or playing with razorblades. I’m done with all of those things for good, it seems, although I might still get staggeringly drunk on a cheerful occasion sometime.

Round One and I had a “talk” this evening. He’s just not ready for a relationship, and I am. Of course, this talk had to happen while I was effing DRIVING, but that probably made it for the best so that I kept my cool and kept my eyes on the road.

“Don’t cry, Twig. Please don’t cry,” he whispered as I took a turn a little too quickly.

“I’m not crying,” I replied stubbornly. “Okay, maybe you see ONE tear. But that’s all. Just one.” I put my hand on the gear shift, and he put his hand over mine.

“You know, you are absolutely amazing, Twig. Being able to talk to you about this makes me even more sure that down the road, we could have something more than just our friendship. You are so together, so open, and so honest.” Round One was studying my face, but for my part, I refused to take my eyes off the road.

I sighed. “Ironic, isn’t it?” And it really is, because I’d hold his hand and help him get back together with his ex if that was what he wanted.

“You know this isn’t, like, a rebound, you know? I’m not rebounding.” He said it more to reassure himself, it seemed, and I felt compelled to placate him.

“I know. But even if it was, it’s okay. People do what they do. We’re human, after all.”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” I said. “I’m just sad, that’s all.” I thought of one of TAC’s lines that I always misquote: Not my tears, not my problem. My sadness isn’t Round One’s problem. It’s mine to come to terms with.

“It’s just… it wouldn’t be fair to you if I tried to be in a relationship with you right now, and I know that’s what you want, and you deserve someone better than I can be right now. I want you to go out and date other people.”

And I want to smack you AND your ex in the face. “I’m, um, honestly, well, I’m not interested in dating anymore right now.” I didn’t explain to him that I’m not ready to feel sadness yet again. I didn’t tell him that the reality is that I’m just always the wrong person for someone’s happily ever after.

He went out with friends tonight, and when he got out of my car, I carefully made sure I ran his lint brush over the back of his black shirt. He looked amazing. He hugged me and kissed me on the lips; I guess he loves me in his own way, as much as he can.

“Are you going out with your brother tonight still?” he asked me.


He looked at me with concern. “Why not?”

“Meh,” I shrugged. “We just never officially made plans. I’m going to go get a piercing. Piercings always cheer me up.” Amazingly, he didn’t question me on this, but requested only that I text a picture.

We said goodbye again, and as I drove off, I let the tears flow.

I texted a picture of the microdermals I had done, to which he replied, “Those are fucking sexy. You are beautiful and amazing.”

Thanks. But it just makes me feel worse.

And then… then I realized that TLTL is at the wedding he originally asked me to attend with him. He went with a mutual friend, someone he screwed for a while from what I understand. Lovely. I did tell him, after all, to take someone he actually gave a fuck about. So I guess he did.

I’m willing to take bets on how depressed I will be if he drunk texts me and how depressed I’ll be if he doesn’t. This is a bet you can’t lose, you realize, since I’m going to feel shithouse either way.

But I’m not burying myself in alcohol or self-injury, and I’m not burying myself in a pint of Chunky Monkey, either, so I guess I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.


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