Exorcising the demons
Nov. 1st, 2001 01:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
batskeetsWell, kids, it's the moment of truth here, and now that I pretty much know the initial result, I think it is time to end the suspense and talk about the potentially cool/horrifying thing I mentioned previously. This is gonna be a long post.
Y'see, I did a lot of driving on Saturday, and thusly, I did a lot of thinking. A lot of it centered around another party that was happening at the same time that Saturday, one that would have been nice to go to, because a lot of my old friends from AHS were going to be there, and I would have enjoyed seeing them. A few of them had asked me why I wasn't going, and the answer to that was simple: It was being thrown by Julian, a.k.a. the ex-boyfriend who, for all I knew at the time, probably wanted to stab me in the eye with a variety of pointy objects. And I hadn't made the invite list, so I figured I wasn't welcome.
Now, before you say "oh, but everyone's invited to those parties!" I would like to point out that the last time I showed up at one of them unannounced (Justin carted me along for one about a year after the breakup), he would barely even talk to me, and his lady got grumpier and grumpier as the night went on. So while it has been almost 2 years since that incident, I do feel I have reason to think that I shouldn't go unless specifically asked.
So anyways, I went up to Wilsonville and had a smashing good time at Dynee and Amy's party, so everything was cool, but on the car ride home, I started feeling grumpy, because I kept thinking about that other party. And the thing of it is, whenever I think about Julian in any capacity, I ultimately feel like a giant asshole because of how moronic I was during and after the break-up.
You see, I sat him down and had the break-up talk after I got back from Christmas break, fully intending to just end it right there... but then he made the sad face that I can-not refuse, and I turned on the waterworks, and at the end of The Talk, we hadn't broken up exactly. It was more of a "let's spend a month apart, but not date other people" thing. That was one of the problems in our relationship: I'd always end up compromising on Really Important Stuff like that, even when I didn't want to and/or really shouldn't have. I should have stuck to my guns, but I was never very good at that.
Then, on the same night, I met Ben, a.k.a. the long-distance rebound boy. He started showing interest instantaneously, and I, having only dated one person in my life, was flattered as all get out. Over the next couple weeks, things went faster than they should have, and somewhere along the line I just decided to ignore the "not date other people" part of the deal I'd made with Julian, because I'd be damned if anyone was going to keep me from being happy again.
Y'see, during that time period, I was certainly not at my best. I started out hoping to ease him through it, and I even waited several months, just trying to come up with a decent explanation for why I was unhappy. But somewhere along the line, I started being incredibly selfish, becauseI was having such a miserable time in pretty much every aspect of my life. I had no real goals, hated school, hated myself, and had no friends that I ever interacted with in a non-electronic form. I guess I got all indignant and started thinking that I would never be happy unless I was willing to step all over somebody else in order to get that happiness. And Julian, being The Boyfriend, was the closest person to step on.
Needless to say, I've since learned the error of my ways, and it still bothers me that I was ever callous enough to act that way. It's probably the only major thing in my life now that I still regret.
Anyways, flash forward to last Saturday night, about 2am. I got back to the apartment, and I sat down and typed out a lengthy e-mail to Julian. (this is why we love the internet: because lame-ass weenies like me can pour their hearts out, without the nerves that come with doing so to someone's face) I talked about how I still feel like a jerk for what I did, and that I'm sick of being pissed off, and that I'm tired of wondering where I stand, and that I wanted to just start over, and see if we could at least be cordial, and maybe even be friends down the road. It was a really hard thing to do, and I was petrified about the kind of response I'd get. But, luckily, he didn't tell me to piss off and never talk to him again.
To make the long story shorter, after a few more e-mails, we had decided to get together today at noon, with the possibility of me buying him lunch, if I had the money for it.
But alas, there is currently no Julian, and seeing as it was 12:45 when I started typing this, I do believe I've been stood up.
I'm not getting pissed, I'm not getting pissed.
Actually, y'know, I really am pretty calm about it, though. I mean, knowing him as well as I do (or as well as I used to, anyway), he probably overslept or something like that. Or he could have come into the Fishbowl around 12:15, when I ran to the bathroom because I couldn't hold it any longer. Or maybe something came up. I don't know, and I forgot my cell, which is where he would have called if something happened. But I've been pretty flaky myself from time to time, so I probably shouldn't be tarring and feathering him for this yet.
But still, this does bring about the oh-so-lovely nagging doubt that maybe I'm just wasting my time trying to make amends for what happened in the past. But I sincerely hope I'm not.
We'll find out whenever he decides to e-mail me again, I suppose.
Y'see, I did a lot of driving on Saturday, and thusly, I did a lot of thinking. A lot of it centered around another party that was happening at the same time that Saturday, one that would have been nice to go to, because a lot of my old friends from AHS were going to be there, and I would have enjoyed seeing them. A few of them had asked me why I wasn't going, and the answer to that was simple: It was being thrown by Julian, a.k.a. the ex-boyfriend who, for all I knew at the time, probably wanted to stab me in the eye with a variety of pointy objects. And I hadn't made the invite list, so I figured I wasn't welcome.
Now, before you say "oh, but everyone's invited to those parties!" I would like to point out that the last time I showed up at one of them unannounced (Justin carted me along for one about a year after the breakup), he would barely even talk to me, and his lady got grumpier and grumpier as the night went on. So while it has been almost 2 years since that incident, I do feel I have reason to think that I shouldn't go unless specifically asked.
So anyways, I went up to Wilsonville and had a smashing good time at Dynee and Amy's party, so everything was cool, but on the car ride home, I started feeling grumpy, because I kept thinking about that other party. And the thing of it is, whenever I think about Julian in any capacity, I ultimately feel like a giant asshole because of how moronic I was during and after the break-up.
You see, I sat him down and had the break-up talk after I got back from Christmas break, fully intending to just end it right there... but then he made the sad face that I can-not refuse, and I turned on the waterworks, and at the end of The Talk, we hadn't broken up exactly. It was more of a "let's spend a month apart, but not date other people" thing. That was one of the problems in our relationship: I'd always end up compromising on Really Important Stuff like that, even when I didn't want to and/or really shouldn't have. I should have stuck to my guns, but I was never very good at that.
Then, on the same night, I met Ben, a.k.a. the long-distance rebound boy. He started showing interest instantaneously, and I, having only dated one person in my life, was flattered as all get out. Over the next couple weeks, things went faster than they should have, and somewhere along the line I just decided to ignore the "not date other people" part of the deal I'd made with Julian, because I'd be damned if anyone was going to keep me from being happy again.
Y'see, during that time period, I was certainly not at my best. I started out hoping to ease him through it, and I even waited several months, just trying to come up with a decent explanation for why I was unhappy. But somewhere along the line, I started being incredibly selfish, becauseI was having such a miserable time in pretty much every aspect of my life. I had no real goals, hated school, hated myself, and had no friends that I ever interacted with in a non-electronic form. I guess I got all indignant and started thinking that I would never be happy unless I was willing to step all over somebody else in order to get that happiness. And Julian, being The Boyfriend, was the closest person to step on.
Needless to say, I've since learned the error of my ways, and it still bothers me that I was ever callous enough to act that way. It's probably the only major thing in my life now that I still regret.
Anyways, flash forward to last Saturday night, about 2am. I got back to the apartment, and I sat down and typed out a lengthy e-mail to Julian. (this is why we love the internet: because lame-ass weenies like me can pour their hearts out, without the nerves that come with doing so to someone's face) I talked about how I still feel like a jerk for what I did, and that I'm sick of being pissed off, and that I'm tired of wondering where I stand, and that I wanted to just start over, and see if we could at least be cordial, and maybe even be friends down the road. It was a really hard thing to do, and I was petrified about the kind of response I'd get. But, luckily, he didn't tell me to piss off and never talk to him again.
To make the long story shorter, after a few more e-mails, we had decided to get together today at noon, with the possibility of me buying him lunch, if I had the money for it.
But alas, there is currently no Julian, and seeing as it was 12:45 when I started typing this, I do believe I've been stood up.
I'm not getting pissed, I'm not getting pissed.
Actually, y'know, I really am pretty calm about it, though. I mean, knowing him as well as I do (or as well as I used to, anyway), he probably overslept or something like that. Or he could have come into the Fishbowl around 12:15, when I ran to the bathroom because I couldn't hold it any longer. Or maybe something came up. I don't know, and I forgot my cell, which is where he would have called if something happened. But I've been pretty flaky myself from time to time, so I probably shouldn't be tarring and feathering him for this yet.
But still, this does bring about the oh-so-lovely nagging doubt that maybe I'm just wasting my time trying to make amends for what happened in the past. But I sincerely hope I'm not.
We'll find out whenever he decides to e-mail me again, I suppose.
