November is a cursed month. Or, maybe I’m a cursed human. Or, maybe there aren’t any curses…and I’m just a dumb bitch. Why am I looking to the fantasy of a curse for an explanation of this month? It’s been absolute shit. You know what your toilet looks like after that trip you have to make to the bathroom after a night of Taco Bell? That’s what my week—no, month—has looked like. Remember how in the last episode, I said, “I’m gonna take a break from guys”? Yeah, well, that didn’t happen. Surprised? I’m not either. But I’m surprised how much it really didn’t happen. Y’all, I thought I was a mess before. I was so young then, so happy. But I’ll give myself credit for 24 hours. After those good, clean, peaceful 24 hours, though, I jumped right back onto my bullshit.
First off, whoever says a Four Loko is their drink of choice, yeah, they’re bad people. I mean, they’re either lying or there is something fundamentally wrong with them. Either way, not someone to trust. Because my insides hurt. I swear to God some of the ingredients in it are corrosive. I mean, it literally tastes like gasoline. It also leads to the worst of decisions. My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad decision: hook up with a guy I knew—I SO KNEW—was bad for me. We shall call him Jim. Why is Jim bad for me? For starters, he just got out of a long-term relationship with a girl he still loves. I mean, who wants to do anything with a boy who is in love with someone else? But, when said boy is inches from your face and says, “I know you want to kiss me,” what can you say, except yes? The worst part: the next day he asked me on a date and my dumbstruck ass said yes. And it was a damn good date. We screamed “Please Please Me” by the Beatles to each other in the car. And got donuts at Gibson’s. And screamed Hannah Montana on the way back to campus. Hell, he told me he liked me. So can I really blame myself for putting my guard down? Well, yes I can, because you know what happens when you fall? You break an arm. And I know this. But, I ignored the little voice in the back of my head telling me this.
I ended up spending half of my nights in his room instead of my own. He gave me his sweaters and sweatshirts. I told him things I’ve never told anyone. He started to feel like home. And then I heard he told two of our friends he was frustrated because I wouldn’t have sex with him. Y’all. Can we take a moment? Am I only attracted to emotionally unavailable asshats? Because this is literally the second time, in, I dunno, two months, I’ve heard that line. I was livid. I am still livid. But in that moment I was ready to take a sledgehammer to his room. Heads were about to roll. But angry doesn’t look good on anyone, so I took a deep breath and went on a walk. Then went to his room. The conversation went better than the one with Steve, but it still wasn’t fun.
Remember when I said he told our friends? Yeah, you read that correctly, I said our friends. We are in the same friend group, which means we are basically required to see each other at least twice a week. So I can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist. But the worst part of this whole situation is that there’s absolutely no closure. I still like him. He still likes me (at least that’s what I’m telling myself). There’s still a possibility of a relationship in the future. So I have no idea what to do with my feelings.
I recently saw an insta post (sorry, not sorry) saying, “it doesn’t matter how much you think he likes you cuz he doesn’t like you that much if you’re still single”. And that’s true. If he had the capacity to like me in the way I want him to we’d be together. So, as of right now, he’s not worth my time. Which sucks so hard. So now I’m in a deep ditch of a funk. Because I really liked him, and I still do. And he’s going to be with other girls and I’ll be watching on the sidelines, forcing myself to grin and bear it. I let my happiness become too dependent on him. Now I have to find happiness within myself. Or maybe a bottle of wine. That’s healthy, right?
I am now realizing I have zero healthy coping mechanisms. Good. I am #thriving. But for real…can a bitch get a break? A bitch is fucking tired. I swear to God if December isn’t better, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Spoiler alert: it’s not looking like it will be. Stay tuned to find out what unhealthy habit I develop next!
Well that’s all I’ve got for now,
XOXO,
Your favorite dumb bitch.
Wait I lied. This meme I found is literally me.
Now that’s actually all this dumb bitch has for now.