Monday, July 9, 2012

This Blog Has Been Rated R Due To Strong Language And Substance Abuse. Reader Discretion Is Advised.

I got called a cunt last night. 

I’ve been called quite a few things in my past but this was definitely my first experience being called the C word. Funny thing is... I deserved it. 

I busted my ass at work over the last two weeks to make rent and have money for my birthday. The day after my birthday, I told Rob that I wanted some time to myself and that I was not confident that our relationship was the right thing for me. What he heard was the nice version of “fuck off” and with a little reluctance and a departing, “by the way, I love you”, he did just that. 

The “I love you” part confused me the most. It’s not that he didn’t act loving in our relationship, but given how new the relationship was and how truly disconnected it felt at times, I wasn’t expecting to hear these words from him. 

After the confusion washed over me, I became angry. Is he fucking with me? Like the time he showed up late to my friends barbecue (after leaving me in a bar for an hour waiting for him) and then proceeded to ask me to officially be his girlfriend? I fell for it at the time... is this love thing his way of trying to hold on to something that he’s not ready to let go of or give up on yet? If so, that’s just mean. And this time, I’m not falling for it. 

I don’t know who wrote the most recent comment on my last blog, but it’s probably some of the best, most productive feedback I’ve ever received. Mostly, I’ve been getting the good old “don’t think so much” and “quit trying so hard” shit which is the quickest way to receive a proper verbal lashing from me. I do try to take these words with a grain of salt. After all, they are most often given to me by people who are in working relationships. Fuck those people. 

Okay, that’s just the jealousy and single girl talking. But seriously, it’s going to be hard to connect with me and how I feel when you aren’t “in it” like I am. 

Contrary to popular belief, I am not looking for a guy to “complete me”. The positive changes in my life, my successful endeavors and my relationship with my family are three examples of things that make me feel very complete as a person. 

I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life sleeping alone. And for anyone who has been in a relationship that wasn’t working, sleeping in the same bed with someone can leave this same feeling when the gap between both just can’t be bridged. Eventually, my relationships with men leave me feeling more alone than when I’m actually sitting by myself in silence. 

Being freshly out of a relationship with these freshly frustrated thoughts (and a couple of really good belgian style beers) led to the cunt comment. 

I got into an argument with a bartender last night. I think it might have started out as an attempt at a flirtatious exchange as he was acquainted with the friends I was with. But we both learned almost immediately that we were outspoken, strongly opinionated and slightly intoxicated people. So when the conversation turned to relationships, things got a little touchy. 

In a nutshell, he ended a three year relationship with someone because she wanted to get married and he wasn’t ready to. This is not an uncommon story. I’ve had my share of commitment issues in the past. However, these days, because I want to find “the one” that I can settle down and create a life with, I’m a little more sensitive to the idea of chickening out of a relationship that you have invested so much time in because you are too afraid of no longer having the freedom to do whatever you want. 

My argument was, why waste her time and give her false hope for three years when you never intended on staying with her for the long haul anyway? Why fuck with her like that when you could’ve given her those three years to find someone who actually gives a shit and wants to spend the rest of their life with her, treating her like she is the only person that matters? Why would you so selfishly rob her of that because you weren’t man enough to either a) admit she wasn’t the one or b) have the balls to realize she was. 

I said that. Or some version of that. Probably more expletives and most certainly with some not-so-subtle righteousness. That’s when he called me a cunt. Because that’s definitely what I was being. 

I’m not saying that I don’t believe in my argument. I absolutely do. But I’m having this discussion with some 27 year old good looking kid who thinks he has the world by the balls because he’s got a nice bartending gig in Las Vegas and knows a shitload about beer (seriously, it’s impressive). I don’t expect him to feel the way I do, especially given the lonely and disconnected week I’ve had. 

These aren’t the kind of conversations most people get into when they’ve known each other for the better part of four hours. 

But maybe they should. 

After the argument was diffused and we each went to our separate corners to cool down, I stated to cry. But the tears were misunderstood by the friend I was at the bar with. I was mostly upset because in the middle of my argument with Kid, my friend’s girlfriend stepped in and began defending Kid’s side and I told her she couldn’t understand what I was talking about and to fuck off. It happened very quickly and I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I was thinking about my other girlfriends in relationships giving me shitty advice all week about “thinking too much” and took out my anger on her. Luckily, she accepted my apology with a warm hug and I don’t think I fucked things up too bad with her. 

Anyway, that’s why I was crying, mostly. I was also overwhelmed by the heated debate and how much emotion it brought up for me. I was startled at having being called the C word by someone I barely knew. 

But also, I was crying out of relief that finally, finally, I had held a real and authentic conversation with someone who wasn’t trying to be agreeable, keep the peace, make me feel better, hit on me, convince me to stay with them, convince me to like them or try and calm me down. The words that were being exchanged were passionate and heartfelt. The arguments on both sides valid. In fact, I was most disappointed that he gave up the fight by calling me a name instead of staying in it with me. He may as well have called me a “stupidhead” and slammed the door in my face. That was the most unfortunate. Because up to that point, I was really enjoying myself. 

If we hang out again, we’ll probably make out. 

Ha! The point is, after a week of feeling numb, sad, lonely and disconnected, I finally felt alive and passionate. I felt like my old self, standing up for what I believe in and putting up a fight. For the first time in weeks, I was fired up about something. And God did it feel good. 

I almost couldn’t write this blog fast enough. 

It sucked that I hurt my girlfriend’s feelings and I think Kid might have actually left feeling bad about what he said. I hope he doesn’t feel too bad. He doesn’t realize the kind of affect he had on me and the gift of fire that he gave to me. Last night, he sorta became my hero. 

I am certainly not suggesting that all of my relationships with people should be like this. But having that kind of authentic exchange with other humans is all I’ve ever wanted. And like Anonymous said in that last comment, I do need someone who is going to challenge me. This goes for friends and future boyfriends. There is nothing more boring than having the upper hand in a relationship. 

Ah, the first time anyone ever called me a cunt. Possibly one of my new favorite memories. 

Thanks, Kid.

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