Category: diary

Spent most of the day talking to Derrick and finally convinced him to get a lj – grimmweak. I already tipped him off to most of the UU people, spread the word.
He also reminded me about:
LGJ and LGL — points to UU folk who can get this.
We have a hot date this weekend. Yay! I’m heading to Detroit this weekend and seeing him and darkdepths, and hopefully hitting City Club Saturday night. Patrick also bounced there, either before or after monkey_daddy and grimmweak did. Don’t know how this always works out, how I manage to date people who someone knew other people I either worked with, knew or dated before.
We spent a good portion of the night talking, okay about 12 hours give or take, not including a phone call earlier today.
I’m glad I drove down to K-Zoo to see both Lenny and Derrick 🙂
He said the first thing he wants to do when I get there is hold hands.
Which I thought was terribly sweet. 🙂
I’m knackered.

Why are men so impossible?
WHY?

I’m currently hanging out in Patrick’s home office while he snores in the bedroom. My flight for GR doesn’t leave for another four hours, coinciding my arrival when my brother gets out of work tonight. I still need to throw my things into my duffle bag, get dressed at some point.
The weekend went well. Not “We are back to being boyfriend/girlfriend” well and not “Ohmygod I’m having a horrible time” either. Somewhere in between. Friday was interesting, a bit strained. He showed up at the airport nearly an hour after my flight arrived, as I sat in passenger pickup playing my GBA. I called kethryvis in a panic because he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. His excuse? Traffic. Which is all fine and dandy, but knowing Patrick, his tardiness was his way of saying, “You’re not that important to me bitch.” He has this TERRIBLE tendency to dismiss being ontime for things, like picking people up at the airport, if he feels it’s not worthwhile. He does it to his boss all the time. When he arrived, I handed him the bag of chocolate chip cookies I had made and hugged him tight. After a few foo-foo drinks during dinner, tensions disolved and things got a lot better.
I approached him about paying for my half of everything this trip out. He and I had gotten into disagreements about this in the past, and his argument of why he should pay centered on that I was a college student, poor and couldn’t afford to pay for my half. Which is true, but since we are no longer a couple, it seemed ridiculous to expect him to pay for things. But he wouldn’t hear of it and kept telling me to put my wallet away when it came time to pay. We went to Ruth’s Chris last night for dinner and I broached the topic of paying for half again, which he agreed. Then he proceeded to order a $350 bottle of Cristal. I laughed and said I as not forking over $175 bucks for champagne. He said it was to honor all the hard work I was doing for school and didn’t expect me to pay for it.
So I killed more than half the bottle.

I’ve had enough caffeine today to power three power plants with all the energy I’ve been exhibiting. Even my hair is nutso but that has more to do with me doing the “Oh shit, I finished my paper at 5:15, I have class at 6:30, it’s a half hour drive and I still need to shower!” look. One thing I can say about having longish hair is the lack of need to wash it everyday. It in fact looks better after not being washed for a day or three. But I’m sure you’re not reading this to hear about my personal hygiene.
My relationship with Patrick since Sunday has been interesting. We are caught in that limbo world where anything is game and anything can happen. I called him, hyped from finishing my final Shakespeare class and teasing my professor about the prof needing hip boots to read my drek of a paper. I was also bouncing off the walls from all the caffeine I had imbibed today.
The banter between Patrick and I was light and fluffy. I had quipped my often said quote that I would never date a woman because they were far too high maintainance and then added that I may need to retract that statement because it seemed that I kept finding men who needed just as high of maintainance as the women. Har. har. har. I was laughing as I said this and he noted that HE was not included in that statement because he was such a low maintainance kind of guy.
I was giggling madly to the point where he kept saying “What? What?”
Then the mood flipped 180 and we were like US and Russia during the cold war, everything became Machivellian and subtexts were running rampart. All the words kept pouring out of my mouth and it was those moments where everything is so coherent and sounds so RATIONAL but you have zero idea where they are coming from. I love moments like that because I know I’m on a roll and I sound so smart. Hah!
This came when the following question that left my lips, “Hey I need to ask you a question and I want you to answer me as honestly as possible.” “What?” “Do you want me to come next week?”
45 minutes later we were no longer any closer to an actual answer to that question and he kept throwing it back in my direction, “It’s up to you honey.” “But I don’t want to come if it will make you uncomfortable.” “Well I have no idea how I will feel when you get here.” Silence from me. “Okay, I will be uncomfortable.” “Then I won’t come.” “But I want to see you.”
Back and forth we went until he said he had to go because he had promised some friends to meet them online for a gaming session and I told him while I admired his um, commitment to his friends, he had a habit of cutting out an important conversation, to eventually be picked up later and it never is. You know, like our relationship.
Ding ding ding.
He said that what he was afraid of being caught in this limbo land where everything between us when we are physically together is GREAT and goes to hell in a hand basket when we are apart. I agreed to that sentiment. I’m waffling, cos on one hand I do love the asshole on the other, I keep talking about all this smack to him about my wants and needs only to have them turn on a dime two minutes later.
You know, sometimes I wish I were a dog. A dogs love life is so much easier than we humans and our upper levels of thinking. You just sniff some ass and *unf unf unf* it’s done. None of this rationalization and over-analyzation bullshit.
In my next life, I want to be a dog. YOU HEAR ME!

The final paper due for tomorrow? At 9:30 am? I’m starting right now. It’s Midnight and 23 minutes and the paper is due in about nine hours. Reasons for delaying the start? I took today off to chill, clean up my much messy desk and get shit together. Tuesday and Wednesday and Thrusday will be hell. Friday night I plan on drinking somewhere until I’m comatose. Get up early Saturday morning and head to the eye doctors, pick my brother up and then head to Moms for the weekend. Come back Sunday, study for finals that will take place all next week, and leave Friday May 7 for Denver.
Yah, I’m going to Denver.
Thought I’d get that bit out of the way, you see. I’ve already told a few of my dearest and closest friends and I’ve already been warned about being beaten to death by flipflops and what not. YES I KNOW. Don’t need to psychoanalyze me. I realise etc ad nasuam.
I called NWA today to cancel my flight and found out the ticket is non-transferable and non-refundable. If I cancel, I lose out on half the ticket cost due to cancellation fees and change of ticket costs for another flight to another destination. My original plan was to transfer the credit to kethryvis for when she comes in August but that wasn’t possible. I called Patrick up to see what he wanted to do and I broached the idea of me still flying out there. He told me it was up to me and I could choose on what I wanted to do. I opted to go.
I had told kethryvis the idea of flying to Denver made my skin crawl a few days ago and now I’m looking at it like a vacation. Suddenly all this tension I felt about my relationship with Patrick is gone since I broke it off and perhaps it would be different because there are no expectations.
I spoke to Patrick today later on in the evening on his way to a strip club. Turns out one of his friends called him in need to come buy drinks as she is just beginning to bartend and he is going with a group of others. He told me that he went and got metrosexualized today and the hairdresser who works on him was complaining about me. Apparently she thought I was a bitch and etc ad nasuam because all I did was sit in the chair and giggle at him with bleach in his hair sitting under a mister hat. ???? Because, apparently, I wasn’t little miss chatty to HER. Er, love the logic there. He told her we were no longer together and she started hitting on him, hell she was hitting on him when I was right there. I don’t get women. Never have, never will.
Because I am flighty flighty Lisa and if you haven’t figured this out yet, then you are obviously not paying attention.
Agreed? Agreed.

I hadn’t spoken to Patrick in about three days.
During that time, kethryvis had been prodding me to stop being a pussy and just break up with him. I told her on Friday I woke up with the intention of calling him to break it off and never actually got around to doing it. She and I talked backwards and forwards about the whole thing and I just couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone.
Tonight he calls and he says he’s been trying to get in touch with me for the last few days. I did receive an IM earlier this morning but there has been no phone calls to either the landline or the cell. Save for this afternoon when I went out with my brother for his birthday dinner, my cell has been with me all weekend. Save for seeing Rent on Saturday, I’ve been home. There has been no phone calls. He has told me before he’s called me and there hasn’t been any messages, but regardless, I dumped him over the phone.
How do you approach something like that? I had no idea but my liquid courage was Crystal Light and I finally asked him, “Are you happy?” He answered, “Of course not, you’re not here.” But that wasn’t the answer I was hoping for and then he asked me if I was happy and I, of course, replied no. So eventually, I told him it was best we do not see each other anymore.
He was on his way to rent movies and was at the checkout counter at Blockbuster when I told him. His initial reaction was a very pissed off, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” when I told him I thought it was best we end it. So I repeated it.
The conversation was amazingly civil. There was no name calling or verbal abuse. Voices did not raise. My main reason, and one that I will stick by, is that I don’t feel emotionally fulfilled in the relationship. Despite the arrogance (which I could live with) and the problems with sex (which could be fixed), that was the bottom line. I do not feel emotionally fulfilled. At the root of it all, I could not foresee myself flying in and out of Denver every month or so simply to be with someone when for the other 29 odd days, I was mostly alone and lonely. Being alone I can handle with great ease. Lonely when you with someone, I cannot.
I could handle flying in and out of Denver if I knew the relationship could go somewhere, but he’s happy the way things are. Part of my impulsiveness, part of my charm, whatever it is, I had to feel or feel secure enough to know that someday *this* was going somewhere and by his account, it was not. He was happy with the way things were going and happy with the future being uncertain. I have to have some sort of plan. I need to know, even if it’s just hazy, how to plan for things. My life is in turmoil right now as I look towards ending college and wondering what the fuck I’m going to do with my life. If I do make it to graduate school, I’ll be living somewhere and the work load anticipated will be five times worse than what I’m experiencing now.
I explained to him, that if I was working and not in school, this would be so much more easier. If things had progressed to seriousness, utter seriousness, transferring to Denver would be cake. But I can’t do that with school. I have to stay at AQ. I’ve worked too hard and too long to transplant myself somewhere else.
The tickets for my next trip to Denver in May were purchased last week. I’m not going, obviously, because I could not handle being there and probably having sex with him and knowing while it meant lots of things, it was all the wrong meaning. It would be false. I would feel like I was leading him on, my being there and he was concerned for my emotional stability.
I told him that save for Paul, almost all of my serious relationships ended up with my exes marrying someone else within 6 months of breaking up with me. He didn’t find that funny.
He’s flying to MI in June, a few days before my birthday, for a family gathering in Detroit. Since I have no plans for my birthday as of yet, I told him we could meet up, if he liked. He said he would love it.
Like all good females, I instantly regretted breaking up with him. “BUT I LOVE HIM!” I reasoned to kethryvis who immediately told me what I was doing was the right thing, and she’s right. I just can’t shake this feeling of despair. Or of regret.
I’ve already induced enough chocolate to kill a horse.
I’m never EVER dating again.

I was able to clear out my comment mail box from 500 to 3. Everything worth responding to (still timely) was, things worth saving were moved to another folder and everything else was trashed. I found a comment that referenced an entry I wrote back in January. Here is part of the entry:
How when you seize the moment, live for the day, that everything that was once good becomes incredibly fucked up in more ways than one? That you can’t undo which you have fucked up? That which seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, actually might have been some destructive mode to protect yourself even when you swore it’s not protection?
I had to jog my memory to find out what this was referring to and investigation proved it was about when I had called Patrick at the crack of dawn to tell him I was in love with him. However, my first reaction was “hot damn, that is some good shit!” and the context could apply to just about anything. Yet, I laugh to myself when I realize the rise and fall of my relationship with Patrick is chronicled on LJ. Though some thing have been left out (including a conversation I had with him tonight that I sent to a few close friends instead of lj’ing) because I wonder if sometimes I take the TMI a bit too far.
One thing I adore about darkdepths is her ability to give very rational and logical explanation to things. Being a psych minor, she’s much cheaper than a normal shrink and her analysis makes sense. I asked her today if she would find it weird if I was no longer interested in sex, and she said something to the effect that no, she wouldn’t. Due to when one closes down emotionally, they tend to shy away from physical interaction. See, makes sense.
Since puberty, I’ve struggled with the acceptance that someone could find me attractive. Like most girls, most of the fucked upness is in my head. Thinking I’m too tall, too fat (even when I was stick thin), too this or too that. Then it became a matter of baggage of things that have happened to me or were in relation to me. I felt like the ninth wonder of the world. Then it was a process of getting rid of the baggage, coming to terms with it and myself. Somewhere in my early-mid 20s, I had a long chat with myself about my own personal view on my favorite subject: Me. I came to gripes with myself. Took inventory in the fact that things I saw previously as negatives into positives. I knew that I was not classically beautiful, I lean towards the more exotic for attractiveness and was okay with my appearance. My body image has never been about “OHMYGOD I MUST BE THINNER FOR A HOT MAN” rather more like, “THE BLOODY FUCKING CLOTHING MANUFACTURES ARE MORONS!” I think that is where much of my confidence came from, is from that time and my ability to process, learn and move on.
Many of you, including myself and my other alter egos, probably can pinpoint many things wrong with the my relationship with Patrick. I’m sure, as I am, you are tired of hearing about it. But in the overall picture, the change in my relationship with Patrick is almost 180 degrees from where it began. I cannot believe he is happy — his disassociation and “slowing down” of the relationship has me, as I predicted, to do a complete emotional shutdown. I no longer treat him as a boyfriend and refrain from calling him anymore. But yet, he does not question my withdrawal or reluctance. Many of you have called me on the carpet about “Why bother?” Two reasons: I’ve removed him from my heart as a boyfriend and no longer refer to him as such so somehow this makes it okay and on the flipside, some small teeny part of my heart holds out for hope. Hope for what? Who knows — but it’s there.
I’ve also have known that I was a late bloomer in life and knew that I was never, no matter how much I tried, follow the same paths as majority of the population. I blame the fact I was born a month late, but, historically it’s been true. Those ages we use as markers are meaningless to me because I always tend to go beyond that — except for menustration. I got that when I was 8. It is because of this late bloomer attitude that I’ve not driven myself into a frenzy about meeting “age marker” goals. I knew that those things would happen at some point, and it didn’t have to be now. I’m okay with that, really.
As for me? Well, I don’t regret the relationship, falling in love or telling the world about it in gory details. I don’t regret chronicling the downfall, either. At the time, the future was so bright and clear, and I believed in it with all my heart. I don’t know what happened, in truth, but now I am weary of what is to come in regards to me and men in general.
I think katishna said it best. After hanging out with her in Ohio for nearly a week, she told me about how when she meets people around the age of 30 who aren’t married or in a serious relationship, she usually finds that they have neurosis up the ying yang. I’m not quoting verbatim here, btw. But with me, she didn’t find anything so offensive or atrocious that would scare away potential suitors or explain why i wasn’t shacked up and married with 10 kids. I was touched, as it takes one crazy woman to diagnose another, but she’s not alone in her analysis as I’ve heard this before.
I can’t explain my tendency to turn mild-mannered men into raging assholes. Or lure the potential asshole up to the surface. It’s a knack. Or it’s called confidence — take your pick.