Tag: confusion

Temporary people leaving permanent memories

 

I know how some people aren’t in your life forever, that they’re just passing through.  But for some reason, I figured that was for other people and not me.  But here I am, scrolling through my Twitter feed and reading about a former friend’s new besties.  She says they’re “her life”.  I remember spending nights texting you and on the phone to you, giving you reasons to live when you were struggling.  I remember us confessing our darkest secrets to each other.  I remember watching fireworks with you, going climbing through woods with you.  I remember when things were at their worst between myself and my now-ex, you handmaking me a birthday card, giving me a big hug and whispering “please don’t kill yourself” into my ear, making me cry.

 

You got a new job, made new friends and just like that I was gone.  Awful fake excuses were made to avoid meeting up, and just like that we weren’t friends anymore.

 

The Girl I Liked, and still do even through she hurt me and some switch flicked in her head stopping her from caring.  If she ever did.  I wish I knew what I did to make her stop calling and texting and wanting to meet up or even doing me the basic courtesy of replying to me when I’m worried sick about her and her baby.  I run through all our interactions in my head on loop at night, trying desperately to find something.  I can be so oblivious sometimes, I can miss huge obvious things.  I wish I knew what was going on inside her head.  I can never be with you but I always want you in my life.  You were so good for my mental health and you were FUN, more fun than anyone else.  You lit up my day when you were around, made me the me of years ago before I became Eeyore.

 

I’ve got Facebook open and see you’re active now, messaging other people and not thinking about me at all.  I remember sitting with you while you got that tattoo a couple of weeks ago.  I remember going with you while you got your eyes examined years ago, walking you home from your first day at college, sitting with you and psyching you up for your first ever job interview.  Sitting with you and calming you down after your family embarrassed you in front of me and it broke your heart.  I remember the chocolate rabbit you got me, out of the blue, the first gift you ever got me.  I remember the day you were so depressed and I got you a t-shirt that you wanted even though it was way too big for you – and I remember the second time I saw you when we reconnected and you were wearing it, and a few weeks after giving birth it fit perfectly.  I remember the day you casually said to me as we were walking down the street, “you know I love you, right?”

 

Is it me?  Something I say or do?  I’m depressed as fuck a lot of the time and I know it shows.  I know that’s off-putting but is it really enough?  Is it because I told her she didn’t owe me anything after she told me how seriously she takes personal debts?  Maybe she just has a new best friend?  Another old friend back in her life, perhaps?

 

My ex, I understand why you cut me off, it’s better for both our sanity that we not try to be friends.  We wanted to be, but all it brought us was pain.

 

I feel awful right now.  Worse than anyone knows.  I won’t kill myself, because I believe that as long as I’m alive, no matter how bad things get, there’s a chance it’ll get better.  It has done once before when I was right on the edge.  A wonderful girl made me a birthday card and gave me a hug and reminded me that I mattered to some people.  She’s moved on now, but who knows what the future might bring?

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“The more you yell, the gayer I get!” and my one smooth move

So I spent the night drinking on an empty stomach while playing board games with a group of friends, one of whom was a guy I met exactly once before – close to a year ago, while the most drunk I’ve ever been in my life.  He said I was attractive and –just like that– I made out with a guy for the first time ever after a life of exactly zero gay thoughts.  Reminder: I’m in my 30’s.

 

Back to last night: Knowing I was working the next day, my friends were kind enough to kick me the fuck out so I could get home and get some sleep.  He left at the same time and we decided to walk back together instead of taking the offered taxi.  We’re both pretty fucked up so we’re walking arm in arm and are chatting.  And we walk through a park, where a group of teenagers start yelling “faggots!” and similar generic anti-gay stuff.  My memory is a little hazy, but I distinctly recall turning around and yelling, “The more you yell, the gayer I get!” and something about sucking his dick if they didn’t shut up.  And we went from linked arms to holding hands just to wind them up even more.

 

It’s utterly surreal and darkly amusing to be the target of homophobic remarks as an adult for actually acting gay, as opposed to when I was a teenager and it was just the go-to insult everyone used at school (it was a much less enlightened time)

 

I also made the smoothest move of my life, while my friend was about to indulge in his recreational drug of choice in a underpass (yes, this is a classy story about classy people doing classy things).  A couple and their dog rather suddenly came through and just as my friend was about to lose his shit, I deftly moved in and kissed him.  They awkwardly walked past (the rather embarrassed woman saying “Not looking!  Not looking!”) and didn’t at all notice the drug paraphernalia he was holding.

 

“That was a really good idea.” He said.

 

I got another kiss goodnight when we got to his place.  And this morning I woke up without a hangover.  Nice.