Update: I hung out with The Kinda Sorta Guy [But Really Just a Friend] on Sunday. My out-of-town friends were not impressed. They suggested I put more effort into another guy who we saw at a bar in my neighborhood – a guy who is rumored to like me [so many of our mutual friends tell me]. He and I went out once, but he was too drunk to make good conversation. Anyway, later in the evening of St. Patrick’s Day, we went back to my neighborhood bar and I wrote Bar Guy a note and drew a silly leprechaun picture, folded it into a paper airplane, and launched it to him across the bar. I said, “Open it.” He said, “It’s a note?” I said, “Yep,” and walked away. It basically said, “When are we going out again?” This afternoon I saw him on the street. He hugged me, said hello, and kept walking. I asked if he was going to work – he said yes. Nothing about the note. Granted, I was on the phone with the cable company trying to get some more channels [for my roommate, who requires SoapNet. Cue eye roll.] But still – he should have seen me, said, “Thank you for the note! It made my night! You’re awesome! Let’s hang out next week.” But no! That’s not what happened! And I don’t get it. So I sent him a quick text when I got home:
Me: Hey jerk. Did you like my present I threw at you last night?
Bar Guy: Yes honey. I brought it home with me.
Me: Good. You should frame that shit. It’s worth dollaz.
Thinking about it more – this is why I am hidden behind a wall and make no effort. I shouldn’t have expectations of what other people are going to say – or how Bar Guy should have reacted to my awesome paper airplane present. And until I am to the point where I don’t expect shit from guys…I think I need to stay single, and behind my wall. I got too all-in-a-tizzy over the whole thing, which is the reminder that I should STOP CARING SO FUCKING MUCH. I was so nervous about giving a thirty-something man a note asking him out. I was upset that he didn’t jump for joy when he got it. I was bummed that he didn’t respond instantly. What the fuck is wrong with me? I really want to not care at all and just go with the flow – but I can’t. And I don’t like opening myself up to any sort of rejection. I’ve been rejected enough, and hurt enough, and I can’t do it anymore. Not even a tiny bit.
The worst part is that I have realized that I do – still, after all this time – have massive expectations of men. And I can’t have them. But I can’t not have them, so I don’t know what to do.
It’s all just so. fucking. annoying. I’m done caring. I’m done trying. And I’m just…done with it…all of it.
Note to self: There is nothing of value on the other side of that wall. Quit peering over it. Climb down the ladder. Go back to watching Hulu and eating Ben & Jerry’s.
Ahh, me, Ben & Jerry…now that’s my kind of threesome.
