When no matter what you do it’s never good enough.
I’m swamped by trying to sort out a million things before I go away for a few weeks, 4 of them in the US, for a wedding & seeing my best friend. She is one of a kind, she’s never once let me down & we have known each other forever.
But there’s one thing that’s dragging me down with every small thing I do to get ready. This trip is about seeing my best friends in the world, there’s 19 of them & I’m going to see the rest of their families too so that’s up to 50 people. But there’s one person I won’t be seeing & the knowing that is making me really unhappy. And fat, I’m miserable so I’m eating too much.
He said he wasn’t responsible for my happiness (sounds bad out of context but it really wasn’t) but the lack of what he offered me is responsible for my unhappiness.
Oh I’ve gone on & on about him I know but he was different because he was a friend for a very long time & because he was a fellow victim of domestic abuse. I liked him from day one & I absolutely trusted him. If anybody could understand me it was him, wasn’t it?
A kiss, he offered me a kiss. That stupid thing that means so much more to me than anything. I have no doubt he was also offering sex & I had every intention of taking him up on both offers. At last, a kiss, well lots & sex with a guy I really liked & absolutely trusted. At last. Bury the past & live in the moment. Move on, at last. New memories.
He said I was way out of his league. I assume at that point he thought I was in my thirties & gorgeous. You know I’m neither. He couldn’t be bothered to tell me I was ok to look at despite him being crippled by self-doubt too. That’s pretty cold. And all the confirmation I ever needed that I’m not even plain, I’m ugly. If you have nothing polite to say then say nothing - I told him that that was the message I got from his complete failure to respond & he took it mean I understood that he’d just not bothered to reply. Even though he knew I hate how I look & that he hates the way he looks too, genuinely. He’s gorgeous btw & I told him that plenty of times. The second set of pictures I sent him, well that email was never replied to. Ever. So I get it, thanks, I’m old & I’m ugly. So it’s hardly surprising no one has wanted to kiss me in decades is it? Stupid ugly (and far too old) me.
He said he didn’t play games & I certainly don’t. But I think ignoring someone when you know that will hurt them, and hugely further the self-doubt they have, is some kind of game isn’t it? I said I say what I’m thinking & feeling, unless it hurts someone, because lies hurt & they’re complicated to maintain. He did the same, as much as any man can. So no game playing involved.
I know I’m a million miles from perfect, I know I’m old, I know I’m ugly & I know I’m completely fucked up. Why I am is half of my Tumblr, where I was going to get stuff out of my system & moving on from that past was meant to be the rest. The past that fucked me up, the past he shared. I naively thought that having gone through the same things he’d understand me - not that I’m actually that complicated because it’s all here. If you’ve read this you understand me. It’s that simple. Only like all the other men he couldn’t be bothered & he certainly couldn’t be bothered to say anything. Again, if you have nothing polite to say, say nothing. Saying nothing is a crystal clear cold way to hurt me.
As is walking away without a word. No explanation. So the guy I’d known for ages, who I really liked, who I totally trusted, who was gorgeous & smart & funny & kind, walked away, with no explanation. That it was a man I knew I could trust, and did trust, and respect, and like…….that’s why I keep crying every time I’m doing something related to going away because I was so wrong. So trusting. So stupid. So old. So ugly. And too fucked up for even someone who really knew what fucked up meant to do me that small courtesy.
I fly out June 8th. I fly in to the airport he works at. We could be within a hundred yards of each other. So it’ll be pretty hard to forget that he exists. I’ll be with my friends. That means I’ll be in the same area as him the whole time I’m there. We could, just an outside chance, bump in to each other. So it’ll be pretty hard to forget that he exists. The whole time. And every time I’m there because these are my best friends & that area is my second home & I’ve been through that airport a hundred times, literally.
I’d use his name but it’s a very rare one & despite the fact he chose to make a fool of me, chose to do what would really have hurt him, to me, knowing how it’d make him/me feel, I still respect his privacy. Because I am that stupid. And that trusting & open & every man can & will take advantage of that. Even the ones who know exactly how it feels to be the me I am now.
So no matter what I do I’m never good enough. I briefly thought I was, but no, I’m absolutely not. And he taught me that. That really hurts & every thing I do to get ready to fly I’m reminded. And humiliated. So humiliated by my own naïvety & by thinking that knowing someone relatively well & thinking of them as a friend is the route to ever greater self-hatred because I am wrong to have trusted even him.
*I was pathetically ‘saving myself’ or rather my pussy for a man worth saving it for because I’m old & therefore old-fashioned. It’s also stupid because it’s never going to happen & soon I’ll be old enough that men will throw up when they look at my body. They mentally throw up when they see my face already. I learn something from every man I encounter but this was a very special lesson from a man with zero empathy or care. So here, have the best view I’ve posted, so far. As my self-respect totally evaporates you’ll see more.
Now I’m going to have a stiff drink & a sleeping pill so I can stop feeling. Some chocolate because what my body looks like is completely irrelevant now & forever. I wish I was already back from this trip because I had so looked forward to it, not just for him, but for a lot of reasons. Now it just hurts time & again, day after day. Even flying Upper Class has lost it’s appeal. I just want it over.