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Hi, My Name is Twig and I’ve Just Been Stood Up

I’m going to hope my “date” wasn’t hit by a bus. God, I just hate when that happens.

But seriously, how does one go from having a perfectly good chat via a dating site where you’re making casual plans for the night and then just… disappear?

However it happens, my response has been to go to the package store, buy a bottle of wine, and start drinking.

Actually, I haven’t started yet. Hang on…

*sips some red*

Ah, there we go.

Maybe I dodged a serial killer or something, I don’t know. But it’s like he just disappeared.

We were in the midst of making arrangements – not a late night, how about we check out this place that has great beer and chat… and mind you, he asked me out. And then… nothing.

He hasn’t seen any of my messages for six hours. Shit, if I had known this was how it was going to play out, I’d have spent an hour longer working out.

I will say, however, that I had a lovely chat with someone last night who I do sincerely hope to hear from again when he returns from a trip. I’m feeling more than a little gullible right now, though, and suspect I’ll never hear from him again.

I’ve also been potentially propositioned to become part of a polyamorous relationship, which, well, could be interesting, if I don’t freak out with jealousy issues. Lord knows I’ve got plenty.

But I do have great respect for relationships with such profound faith and trust, and I do believe they exist. Whether I can exist as part of one is beyond me, but TAC once (or thrice) expounded upon the benefits of polyamory with regard to child rearing, finances, etc. I think it was the first time I had really considered such a unique romantic/family dynamic with any level of seriousness.

I’ve seen successful polyamorous relationships, successful swinger relationships, successful open relationships, but I’ve also seen relationships fail as a result of these romantic encounters. Actually, it might not be fair to say these encounters were the result, but rather the nail in the proverbial coffin. I

But what of FastCar, whom I still love so deeply? Yesterday, he claimed I was pushing him away, which may be fair.
“But how can I not when you don’t love me?”
“But I do love you,” he said.
Confuse me much?

He needs time, he tells me. Time for what? I don’t know, because he won’t effing talk to me about anything, though he assures me he talks to me more than anyone else. That being said, he’s currently hanging out with his jerk of a best friend yet again, so I’m not entirely convinced I can take him at his word.

I have got to get a life.

In my defense, I’m trying now, but got stood up. Still, things don’t seem to be otherwise off to a bad start.

I really hope that poor guy didn’t get hit by a bus.

And that he isn’t a serial killer.

 

I’m magic

I fixed my Mac laptop finally after a year!

I mean, I’m still being electrocuted as I type from my front porch, but until I become an electrician and a contractor, I’m pretty screwed in that regard. Besides, a little extra current running through me probably isn’t bad.

I’m taking a break from my mission today to throw out as much useless crap and start (re-start) refinishing my steps in the house. I’ll be using a contractor for just about everything, honestly. The contractor bit raises a problem because the LAST thing I want to do is take on more jobs, but if I plan on paying for this stuff, well… it costs a lot. Like, a LOT. So much that I haven’t even tried to budget it. There’s probably a lot I can do on my own, but since I don’t know where to begin, I’m feeling incredibly overwhelmed.

On the plus side, it’s an overcast Friday here and people are being quiet. Traffic is light, and there’s no annoying music blasting.

Tonight’s plan is to burn as much wooden crap as I possibly can. For now, though, I should get back to work planting ground cherries and then tackling the floor.

Twig’s Big Day

Two bottles of wine with MTIA  left us curled up in his bed, him biting my neck, me pulling his hair. I left somewhere around 4am having recalled his great wish for me to hurt him in bed… But not if it involved commitment.

Today, he texted something too hurtful to fathom, so I officially called off the friendship and, quite obviously, the art collaboaration.

I then spazzed out onFastCar, screamed at my parents, and rejected TLTL’s offers of dick pics to cheer me up.

I  contemplated suicide again, but signed up for okcupid instead.

An you know what? There area couple decent freaks like me on there that might be worth my time of day.

I told my mother that my father has to get his tools out of my house and that I’m going to hire someone to get the work done instead. I love most of my family but I’ve had enough shit.

I’m an ungrateful bastard, I know. My parents have given me so much, but I can’t keep up a stupid facade about who I really am.

So I’m going to take out another loan, get work done on the house, sell it, and disappear.

I am not okay.

 

return of the idiot

i am the idiot.

apparently MTIA’s ex was so drunk the other night that she didn’t remember asking me out or making out with me.

i’m pretty sure that’s a first for me.

You know what, pretty girl?

Fuck you.

This week I’ve had to chase a family member down to make sure he wasn’t jumping off a building. He wasn’t, but he lied to my face about drugs and alcohol. We have a vacation planned soon, and I’m cancelling it.

Because you know what, family member?

Fuck you.

Tonight I went over to MTIA’s to talk about a collaborative art project. I just had six new pieces comissioned and this project would add ten more. We drank a ridiculous amount of wine on the couch, I dragged him to his bedroom, and…nothing. There’s still no love there. Did i think that agreeing to work for him would change that? I guess I did. I didn’t fuck him. But I’m never going back again. If I’m not worth loving, well….

Well, surprise, MTIA:

Fuck you. 

I’m not doing this project for you or any other great fucking idea you have.

TLTL, OF COURSE, has resurfaced, and guess what? His long term relationship is ending.

Fuck you.

And what of FastCar?

Nothing.

I’m out.

Fuck. It. All.

because i can’t say this without being 302ed

Note: For those who don’t know, getting 302ed is being involuntarily committed for a psychiatric hold of up to five days.

i have been thinking over and over about running away from home.

That is, as much as a 30+ mortgage holder with six fish tanks and four quadraped dependents can allow one to think about running away… which is to say that I can’t do it.

The truth is that there’s no where I want to go except maybe indonesia, and I don’t really want to even go there very much.

My empath dog is hiding from my tears today. I didn’t yell at him. He just cowers when I cry now.

But here’s the point of all this: my desire to run away is just a cop out for wanting to die.

**Note: I do not plan to commit suicide. If I didn’t have my dependents, and I didn’t have my family, well maybe then. but I have what we in the biz call resilency factors. They’re more like guilt factors, I’d say, but I’m just very cyncial.

FastCar said tonight, go ahead and date. I won’t stop you. He won’t stop me from me from dating. He won’t stop me from leaving the city, the state, or even the country.

I think I mentioned the other night that when I met up with MTIA and his ex that at the end of the night, he was backstage playing pool – I hadn’t been invited, despite knowing that I could have used some cheering up. I had to invite myself, which I detest. I chose not to play pool after all, and left MTIA when he finally went to change.

MTIA’s ex isn’t communicating with me. I don’t know why she isn’t. maybe she’s afraid like I am, but I suspect it’s more accurate to say that I’m not anything special contrary to what she says when she’s drunk. To her, I’m a revenge tactic to get back at MTIA. But I don’t think she realizes that MTIA doesn’t care about me, about her. If she and I got together, he’d feel only relief that two nut jobs were out of his hair.

Why am I staying here?

How do I start over when there’s nothing interesting to me? there is nowhere I want to go. there’s nothing I want to do. I could whore it up for a while, but it’s not my thing.

I want to be held and loved by someone who feels the same about me romantically that I feel about him or her.i want to trust MTIA, but i believe i am convenience only. And his ex either has either retracted her statement Abbott having s a crush on me or forgot altogether about our date.

I did reach out to her. i got little in response.

I’m supposed to be this amazing human full of kindness, love, and various talent. I do home improvements (some better than others, but I try). I’m supposed to be a role model to struggling youth. Pretty soon, I will also be a role model and some form of parental figure to my cousin’s new baby. Right now, the last part means the most to me, as I won’t be having any children off my own.

Fast car doesn’t care if I date. I asked him to just tell me if he knew for sure we wouldn’t work things out. I’d rather know a difficult truth. But he says he doesn’t know. So i poured some of my heart out to him today over dinner, and honestly, it felt like he didn’t care.

So i work on my yard that no one sees. I work on my house that no one sees. I take photos that I don’t use for anything. I reread books  I’ve written but that I haven’t published.

I’m supposed to be awesome and amazing. but instead I’m alone… So I work out like crazy, convinced that if I can drop 40 our 50 lbs again, people might look beyond my weight, and that’s incredibly shallow.

tonight, I took too many sleeping pills, not an overdose mind you. But they’re kicking in. And I love too much.

Maybe I’ll text MTIA’s ex one last time to say i’m sorry.maybe tomorrow. I can’t rightly type coherently tonight.

But I want her to know it’s ok if she forgot or if it was a moment of drunken stupidity.

FastCar has quit responding to my texts, just like MTIA. Again, the ones I want to love me most have nothing to say because i am not worth the effort of caring for, holding, or letting my cry.

I don’t want to be unworthy.

 

eff your superstitions

subtitle: the penguins lost their first shot to win the stanley cup, and fast car is a freaking tool.

I thought fastcar and i had dinner plans today, but it turned out he wanted to meet for lunch. I was going to ask him to watch the hockey game, but he already had plans with his fat shaming, drug addled, liar of a best friend.

because superstitions. the pens won the last time they watched together, so surely they’d win again. well they didn’t. so eff your dumb ass superstitions that were really just an excuse not to spend an evening together.

I told him i’d be too busy to meet for lunch and that i had thought we were meeting for dinner.

“sooo… we’re not getting lunch?”

“no, no we aren’t,” I told him in a short text.

then i asked, “hey, can you mail me the stuff you said you’d give me in exchange for the money you said you owed me?”

“We aren’t getting food soon?” he asked.

“Well, for two people on vacation, three sets of cancelled plans seem to indicate that we aren’t very good at making time for one another.

he tried to argue that we only have one set of cancelled plans. I had to remind him of the two times he’s cancelled other plans prior to my cancellation of “food.” He didn’t really have a response. he didn’t try to make new plans, and he didn’t answer my question about mailing stuff.

Yesterday, when i asked him, “we’re never getting back together, are we?” he said he never said that was the case and that he was excited for food (that i then cancelled because god god, i deserve more.

He shows an awful lot of support of someone who’s repeatedly fucked him over and interfered in our relationship. I have NOT done these things, and you’d think I was asking him to buy me the moon.

I know i’m more than a little crazy, but i’m also crazy devoted.

I don’t have to be top priority all the time, but occasionally would be nice.

why the hell would i want to stick around to see if he wakes up to what a dick he’s being?

I don’t believe he’s being honest with me because he isn’t being honest with himself. and frankly, i have no desire to keep waiting for him to wake up.

I ought to instead  be dragging MTIA into my bed for a good bit of violent consensual fun. I mean, I shouldn’t be. But I want to be. Since he quit responding to my texts mid conversation yesterday, though, and since he didn’t respond to a hello from me today, i’m guessing that’s not an option anymore, despite it having been a real possibility earlier yesterday.

i should text his ex and see if she still wants to go on a date next week. except… i’m crazy. and she might be crazier than me, even. and she’s a girl. a gender fluid girl, but a girl, which is not the type i usually go in for. And, of course, there’s the fact that we both acknowledge we ought to hate each other since we are both in love with MTIA.

When I told MTIA most of this (leaving out the part about us both being in love with him), I emphasized that I’m not ready to open up to someone new about how my mind works, and I’m not ready to hear someone new’s crazy shit, either. He pointed out that a date isn’t dating.

“True,” I conceded, grimacing at his text message. “But if I don’t go on a first date, I don’t ever have to worry about it turning into dating.”

I still want MTIA. Perhaps a more sober and monogamous MTIA, but MTIA.

As for FastCar, it’s time for me to go gently into that good goddamed night. he can keep the 20 dollars and the painting i made for him, a letter written on back of the canvas about how he makes me life better, means the world to me. he’s ceased to allow those to be true statements, and I;m now convinced he’s a duplicitous shithead.

Have i mentioned I’m off all my meds and that I feel effing FANTASTIC? I’ve lost 20 pounds now, i’m a little more creative again, and my body is no worse off for giving the finger to big pharmacies, the fda, and traditional medicine in general.

Important question:

Should I call MTIA’s ex, who though drunk, seemed really excited to take me on a date next week? I feel like I should at least say hi. What if she’s waiting for me to call her? Can i text her instead? Should I tell her it’s okay if she didn’t mean it? Should I tell her I’m afraid of a lot of stuff going wrong? Because for all my doubts, there’s a chance she and I could be really happy together. I mean, it COULD happen.

I seriously need advice, and I have no one to ask in this case.

HALP!!!

Whorish Twig is Sad Twig

Where do I even begin?

Probably with the fact that I’m hungover.

And single.

The hangover is new.
Being single is not so new.

It turns out all my nagging feelings that something wasn’t quite right between FastCar and me were correct. So I broke up with him in a text while he slept.

This makes me a fairly crappy person, I realize, but since he refused to take the time to talk, he didn’t deserve more than that.

I’m heartbroken, but trying to be kind in case he ever remembers what it’s like to be in love with me.

So, of course my instinct is to call MTIA.

I pulled him aside while we were out carousing to tell him I made out with his ex. And then I made out with him, too. Okay, I may have pulled him into the backstage men’s room and groped him a little. Or a lot. And I may have whispered something in his ear about tying him up. Maybe.

I feel crappy.

But he was wearing a dress and pretty much dared me to make out with him. I’m a sucker for pretty boys in dresses.

The aftermath has been dreadful… realizing that i can’t tell FastCar about it, or at least I’m not ready to tell him about it, the fact that there really is still nothing between MTIA and me, and that I’ve stepped right back into the bizarre love triangle between me, MTIA, and his ex in a very big and wildly whorish way.

I don’t want to fall back into love  with MTIA so hard that my heart aches. If I could handle being in an open relationship, that would be awesome, but I can’t. It’s just…not me.

“Wow, so I’m that big a slut?” he asked me in response.
“Of course not,” I chided. We were still locked in the bathroom, but I had pulled away from him and was trying to adjust my clothes a tad. “You just…love a lot.”
“And who else do I love besides you?”
“Well, you love Drew, for a start.”
MTIA closed his eyes for a second and thought. “Yeah, that I do.”
“See? I’m not just making stuff up.”
“But you’re my favorite,” he said. I don’t know whether or not he was kidding, but I suspect I was only MTIA’s favorite because I was the one there, the one who had just pushed him into the corner of the bathroom.

So between the hangover, the fact that I was already bummed out, and the depression that comes with drinking, today is a bummer of a day. I need to reinvent myself. Or, perhaps more accurately, I need to rediscover myself.

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