Is it me?

Slight trigger warning: brief mention of sex, but only in a vague sense

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Army couldn’t perform the other night.  You know, perform. 

I don’t know why.  He wouldn’t elaborate.  We’ve only had this problem once before in our entire on and off again relationship and that time he explained in detail about his issues (which aren’t important at this time, so I won’t expand on that).  He was also strangely distant.

I think it’s me.

I’m worried I’ve gained weight, though I’ve been trying so hard to be good and not.  I guess I haven’t gone up any clothing sizes and my friends and family remind me think about that when I start thinking in a non-logical fashion.  So if I’ve gained weight, it must be not enough to cause me to go up in any sizes.

But obviously something’s changed.  I must be doing something wrong.

It’s sort of funny though because though on one level, I’m upset and confused and concerned, mainly I just don’t give a damn.  I don’t think I’m all that attached this relationship, even though I sometimes try to convince myself otherwise.

I mean, Army is a good friend.  But I just don’t feel any magical chemistry like I used to or like my friends talk about with their significant partners.  I mean, I enjoy the sex, I enjoy spending time with him, sometimes I like how he makes me feel.  However, there’s no craving anymore, there’s no dwelling on him when he’s not there.

Again, I think it’s me.  I think it’s that depression catching up to me and trying to kill my romance.  Not my libido, which is crazy healthy still.  But it’s like if the possibility isn’t right in front of me, I only sort of “itch” in a general sense.  Like “Hm. I could really go for sex right now”, not “Man I wish Army was here”.  I don’t think that much at all anymore.  Most of the time I can’t kick him out of my apartment fast enough after we’ve finished.  He’s the one who’s wanted to stay and cuddle.  I feel like such a boy.
But even the other night he wasn’t cuddly.  I don’t even really know why he came over.  I didn’t ask him, he asked me.  Was it just to throw my own unattractiveness in my face?

Thank you, I’m well-aware of it already.

I’ve buried that desire for actual romance down so deep that I don’t fantasize about it anymore.  Except when certain songs come on the radio or my iPod.

Then it’s hard not to cry.

I don’t understand why I can’t handle anything beyond a casual, secretive physical relationship.  I want to.  I want to so much.  But I just wreck it every goddamn time.

I just want the punishment to end.

I ain’t good for anyone else…

I turn the TV off, to turn it on again
Staring at the blades of the fan as it spins around
Counting every crack, the clock is wide awake
Talking to myself, anything to make a sound

I told you I wouldn’t call, I told you I wouldn’t care
But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere
I don’t think that I can take this bed getting any colder
Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over

You can say we’re done the way you always do
It’s easier to lie to me than to yourself
Forget about your friends, you know they’re gonna say
We’re bad for each other, but we ain’t good for anyone else

I told you I wouldn’t call, I told you I wouldn’t care
But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere
I don’t think that I can take this bed getting any colder
Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over

We don’t have to miss each other, come over
We don’t have to fix each other, come over
We don’t have to say forever, come over
You don’t have to stay forever, come over

I told you I wouldn’t call, I told you I wouldn’t care
But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere
I don’t think that I can take this bed getting any colder
Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over
-“Come Over”, Kenny Chesney

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I am weak.  As always.  I’ve always been weak.

I fall easily back into my label of “fuck-up”.

But it feels better this way.  I don’t deserve good. I don’t deserve real.  I don’t deserve respect.  It doesn’t matter.

I’d rather have a brief evening of laughter with him that a whole lifetime of romance.

Relationship Are Dumb

In light of this stupid V-day thing, I’ve been pondering relationships way too much.

I’m come to this conclusion: relationships are dumb.

I got into this whole discussion with Mama over at Mental Midwest (that was probably waaaay more drawn out that she needed to hear 😉 ) about relationships, men, and FWB.

And it’s got me thinking.

Craig is driving me nuts.

But I don’t think it’s entirely Craig’s fault (besides the creepy baby discussion).  I think I just don’t really get how to handle a relationship that demands a shit-ton of my time, attention, and possibly emotions.  I’m just not really that interested.

I thought that’s what I wanted.  I thought I wanted the deep, schmoozey, can’t-stop-thinking-about-them, meant-to-be kind of relationship. 
But I think that’s only because that’s the relationship Katherine and I had.  However, that also had aspects of abuse to it as well, so I definitely should not be holding it as some sort of standard.

I miss Army a lot.  And I’m so angry and resentful towards myself for these feelings.  I made myself examine why I got fed up with Army.  His flakiness.  Then I made myself examine whether I’m grumpier about Craig’s neediness, or Army’s flakiness.

And the results are surprising and a bit displeasing.

I’m coming to like living alone more and more.  I like being able to make spontaneous plans with friends only a day or two in advance.  I like being able to spend so much time with Zoe.  I like being able to only have to worry about my own finances.

I hate how Craig keeps pushing for me to come over to his place.  I hate how he planned this V-day thing on Friday over a week in advance.  I hate that he constantly wants to do something.  I hate that he can’t hold a conversation unless it involves computers, babies, his family, or his exes.

I miss that Army could/can always make me laugh.  He can always cheer me up.  He can always make me feel pretty. I loved that he likes the same sort of movies that I do.  I love that we like the same kind of food.  I love that we can talk about my job, his job, current events, mutual dumb shit we’ve heard and actually have a two-way conversation.

Goddammit I miss Army.

And the worse part is I know I could step right back into a “relationship” with him. 

We texted for two hours last night.  Just in a friendly sort of way.  He’s always been a good friend before the whole sex thing.  But sex did get brought up, like it does with him, and he sweetly said something about how I was the best and he missed it with me and he liked how it was always without awkwardness or extreme expectations.

I winced at hearing that because all it did was make me crave that sex again.

Ugh.

Relationships are dumb.

I think what I’m going to do is go to this thing on Friday with Craig, and if there aren’t amazing turnaround fireworks or something, I’m just going to let him down as nicely as I can (god I hate being that girl) and then re-evaluate me, myself, and I.  And my life.

And not immediately jump Army’s bones.

No.  I will wait.

Not immediately.

But perhaps…

Dammit.  I need to learn that self-control thing.

Treat sex like I do food.  Don’t want to get fat.

Patience.

Apparently I’m trash (or The Email’s reply)

It took a couple days for me to get the courage up to write this post.

Germany technically replied to my email Saturday, but I’ve been dwelling and dodging and playing that ostrich-head-in-the-sand that I do so well.

She’s upset.

Yay, I’m clairvoyant.  Texas said she wouldn’t upset because we’re best friends and best friends are supportive.  But my tummy-guts-feeling wins again.  She’s pissed.

She said I’m trash.

I’ve never had anyone call me that.  Not even when Texas probably thought something close to that last year when she was angry we got pregnant.  But she never called us anything like that.

And to have Germany call me that….

I was a mess Saturday night.  And I was very ill most of Sunday- at least partially psychosomatic I’m sure.

It’s sort of surprising who first brought me out of a thought process that was going to turn self-damaging.  Army.  I know, right?  Mr. Emotionally Void and Unavailable.  It’s like he’s a different person since we stopped living together.
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This was our text exchange:
Me:  Well, Germany thinks I’m a she-devil that’s ruined Jeff.  it’s a surprisingly hard blow to have a best friend think you’re trash.
Him: What happened?
Me: I emailed her briefly, updating her on my life, like I normally do, and apparently now I’m horrible. I dunno.  You don’t think I’m garbage, do you? Is that why you didn’t ever really want more than FWB?
Him: I do not think you are garbage. And the FWB thing is because of me and what I’m capable of. Not you.
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Obviously not some amazingly romantic talk, but at least encouraging.  And then Shadow Dragon and Puppy were nice enough to watch a movie with me Saturday evening (“Identity”, appropiately, lol) and that helped a lot.

But still….a best friend calling you trash is hard to swallow.

Maybe I am trash and I should just accept it.