Wallowing

What a shit way to start out the new year - Happy 2008 to me, whoo, let's get dumped! Indulge me and my self-deprecation for a while, will you? I do hesitate to say that I was "dumped", per se, but I'm not sure how else to say it. He wanted to stop seeing me, I guess. I told my girlfriends to give me twenty-fours hours and I'd be fine. No more wallowing. What works wonders in that department is running a computer camp for children - being with eight kids in a small room for four hours straight really leaves no room for self-pity. What doesn't work is drinking. Alcohol is a depressant and it works very well, did you know? While vaguely under the influence last night, I actually called Mr. GQ-Asshole. Three times. Clearly, I wasn't as sober as I thought, at least not sober enough to keep my wits and scruples about me. Or maybe, just maybe, I was actually that desperate to see him again. He didn't pick up, which was probably for the best. Unfortunately, he was polite enough to call me back this morning when he saw that he had missed my call last night.

I'm not exactly over it. As much as I'd like to just write it off as one of another of my many: Mistakes, Poor Judges of Character, and He's Just an Effing Assholes, I feel as though I can't claim those sorts of things any more. Shouldn't I be able to tell by now? Shouldn't I be better at picking the better ones? Shouldn't I also be better at dealing with rejection?

Why is it that my roommate can meet someone completely randomly at a bar a month before she goes home to England, sleep with him the second time they meet, and fall head over heels in love? Granted, this guy is so wonderful I could swear that he's a fictional character who just walked off the set of a romantic film. She couldn't stop talking about him and I wanted to marry him, for goodness' sake, he sounded so great. So what harm was there when one of his best friends was interested in me? If he's so wonderful, then surely his best friend would be of the same material? Not so, my poor, naive little heart, not so. After a few weeks of me being with his best friend, and not sleeping with him the second time we met, I'm now mopey and pathetic, the exact opposite of being happily in love.

I acted like I wasn't invested, but inside, I was, even just a little bit. I even have a post in draft form about him and me blogging about a boy, or even thinking about blogging about a boy is a fairly big step, especially so early on. I was invested enough for it to hurt like heck when he told me. I wanted to scream and punch and kick and break things. But seriously, what the hell? I met his parents, his oma, he bought me a Christmas gift, then I met his cousins and then his entire extended family, aunts, uncles and all. What. the. hell?

This whole episode just triggered the spilling of that big ol' can of worms - why does this keep happening to me, why aren't I good enough, what's with me that people think they can treat me like this, what is it about ME? Typical post-dumpage grieving and self-doubting. But seriously, why is it that I have to go through year after year of shite, and guy after guy, and still, I've got no one? See this post, from TWO YEARS AGO when I was dealing with a freakishly similar and just as crappy situation. Crueler still is watching someone else find exactly what it is that I want while I struggle through it all. I know it's immature, but really, I can't help but say it: It's not fair.

PS: Since when was two and a half weeks a long time to wait before sleeping with someone? Since WHEN? I pretty much hate today's standards for everything. It's totally time I pick up and move to another continent.

"I used to wanna change the world. Now I just wanna leave the room with a little dignity." I only sort of know where this line comes from, but it seems perfectly fitting to me right now.
10:16 pm