“You ask me about EVERY girl that I talk to. You’re kind of psycho right now.”
“You told me to tell you whenever I felt uncomfortable. I’ve asked you about two girls. A total of two. I didn’t freak out about them, I simply asked.”
“That’s crazy. That’s fucking psycho.”
“No, I don’t think that it is.”
He’s freaking out and I’m being as calm as can be. I really did just flat out, without placing blame, just asked “Are you and Jennifer really just friends?” I suppose I should be sorry for upsetting him and I am in that regard, but as for asking; no, I am not.
Considering the context in which he used to talk to one of the girls, asking when they very suddenly become friends again isn’t psycho. I was curious. Making note of what he said to his friend on the cruise, I was curious for good reason, not just because I’m bored or because I’m ‘psycho’.
I don’t understand how someone can say “Hey, whenever you feel uncomfortable or you have a question, no matter what it is, tell or ask me. No problem.” and then get pissed when I ask or bring up an issue.
“Bring whenever you’re feeling bad to my attention” must mean “keep your fucking mouth shut, because I don’t give a shit.”
I really do feel awful. Not as in sick or anything, but my feelings are hurt. Really hurt. The sad thing about that is is that someone who is supposed to care about whether or not I’m hurt, doesn’t. I bring up when I am hurt and it’s thrown back in my face as me being psycho.
I don’t understand.
Everything I say when trying to be sweet with him turns out to be gay. Every question I ask gets on his nerves. Every kiss is typically disregarded. I am disregarded.
Sometimes I do want to cry. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t been in a weird situation like this in a very, very long time. I’m not a person who typically cries, though. So, I start to cry and then end up shaking my head and shrugging it off for the time being.
What even happened? Things were so good in the beginning- it’s only been a month and a freaking half!- and now I walk on eggshells and I have no idea what to say to him half the time. I’ve been stuffy and edgy since I tried to quit smoking a few days back. Every time I get stressed, I have no outlet in which to calm me. So, I end up with migraines and muscle aches. Quitting cold turkey isn’t really for me. I did give it a pretty decent go, though. Five days. That’s about as long as I went last time.
As my boyfriend is walking down the steps to the bathroom to get a bandage for his fucked up knee, I yell (after stripping and getting into his bed):
“I’m naked in your bed.. by the way.. I’m not sure.. if you noticed, but my tits are hanging out. Just.. .. thought you’d like to know.. that.. I’m.. fuck it.”
My boyfriend who used to hound me for sex like fourteen times a day doesn’t want to touch me at all after getting back from his cruise. Why? Probably has something to do with a text I found in his cell (“Holy fuck you crazy cunt. You went through his phone?” Yes. I did, because he goes through mine.) that stated to a friend that he went on the cruise with “If anyone asks, we broke up last week.” AWESOME TY SO MUCH. When was I supposed to know about this?
On top of that, this chick he was on the cruise with, Jennifer, sends him messages via facebook. Not the problem. The problem is the underlying context of said messages.
Her: Are we still on?
Him: Huh?
Her: Whats the huh for?
In addition to he’s been talking to his ex-fling, Brittany, who totally ditched him when he showed her his feelings, or so he says. I don’t know what to believe that comes out of his mouth, no matter how much I like him, considering what he shares with me and what he doesn’t.
I have a feeling, though, that he’ll break up with me shortly before he deploys for Iraq a second time.
I care about the idiot. I honestly think there’s something there to salvage. Anything he wants that I am capable of doing for him, I am totally all about it. I have sweet tits, a great face, awesome body, and I’m not a slut or an idiot. I’m like the total package deal and he wants to type to his cousin about how much of a horrible movie date I am and to these stupid girls he’s known for all of five days.
What. the. fuck.
fml.
In twenty-one days I will be twenty-two. I play World of Warcraft, work at Gamestop, and blow through relationships the same as I do Marlboro cigarettes. I’m on my third relationship in two months. I’m socially awkward and have little to no tact.
The above in and of itself says a lot and probably too much, considering this is the internet, but if I keep to myself anymore, I’m going to end up screaming my head off in some overwhelmingly public place. I’m crass, but I’m small. People make me nervous.
So, I lose myself in videogames, comic books, and, often, vodka.
In fact, the foot of space beside my iMac looks like the following: an empty bottle of Splash de Kiwi-Fresa water, an overflowing ashtray in front of an empty glass bottle of Popov vodka, both of which are sitting on an empty notebook. Next to those things is a plastic bottle of Smirnoff vodka beside Tropical Fruit Splash water, in front of a blue lighter and Coconut lime verbena body splash. So, I guess I’m a hydrated, vodka drinking, cigarette smoking girl that smells good?
I’m supposed to go see Funny People in about two hours, but I don’t really much feel like going on a date with Chris as much as I feel like keeping inside and away from the irritation of a public theatre. There’s always some jackass bent on talking during the movie and previews, further fueling my annoyance with the public.
I hate when people talk during movies. I should probably shower before I get ready. I don’t want to deal with the flurry of “I’m mad because you didn’t come out with me tonight!” texts from me not going.
Hopefully I keep up with this. It’ll be good for me if I can get over how awkward this entire thing is.
