Debbie Downer returns

2014. It’s another new year. One of the reasons I HATE New Years as a holiday is because every Dec 31st I look back on the year and say, “Yep, failed at love again.” Now, don’t get me wrong – this is not me saying my life is necessarily incomplete, this is me saying that I consistently fail at the same thing over and over. I realize there is about  a month long gap that fails to elaborate on more of the B3 nonsense and it’s no longer relevant anyway because I can’t see him ever again. He sees me as a pair of boobs that he really likes instead of a person with feelings. This is no exaggeration. I essentially got a text that boiled down to: I’m here if you want to do x-rated things but I don’t want to hear about you being upset. Hey buddy, you can take those x-rated thoughts and shove it!

 

Yesterday, I told my therapist that I felt guilty for deleting B3 as a Facebook friend (BURN) and he said guilt is something you should only feel if you’ve done something wrong. I can’t sit there and go through his pictures and remember all the good stuff, and I am not going to let him get glimpses into my life since he obviously doesn’t care to be in it in any real way. And I know FB can be very superficial at times but at others it is handy for sharing life events, etc.

Not once, but TWICE in 2013 did I get the “you’re amazing but…” speech, which I fucking hate, because if I were really so amazing, there would be no BUT. I see your bullshit, and raise you an evil glare.

This needs to be the year that I don’t feel guilt: for standing up for myself or for demanding more, or better (i.e. being treated as a priority rather than an option or last resort); for letting go – of anger, of sadness, of things that don’t belong in my head, for keeping the past where it belongs, and for truly believing that this is B3’s loss and not mine. Good luck finding another chick who loves sports and hates shopping and is as refined as I am.

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