Just Keep Going On

I’m not entirely sure when exactly my life became the script of a really poorly written sitcom, but here we all are, she writes as she continues to eat the half of a chocolate pie she pulled out of the fridge for breakfast, as she is too damn lazy to make eggs, obviously trying to illustrate the point she was trying to make.

This is where I am at now.  Comical levels of sadness. So comical in fact that I could actually be Sadness if anyone ever did the live action version of Inside Out.  Which is a vast departure from the state I was in the last time I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as it were) to write my story.  The last time you and I were together, I was sitting on the beach with Chuck, so happy to have a wonderful, beautiful new boyfriend.  I was enjoying our time together, and enjoying having someone in my life that I liked.  Of course, because it’s me, and my life after all is a sitcom, that feeling of joy didn’t last more than a full month after that.  I’m not sure if it was the sleeping with someone else that ruined it for me, the fact that he slept with someone who found out she had Chlamydia, or the fact that he couldn’t figure out why  I didn’t want to stay with him because of those two facts (he had apologized for cheating after all, AND he got me meds to take just in case I had gotten Chlamydia from him, and hey, he at least told me he cheated, he didn’t have to, so isn’t he a great guy, and can’t we just work things out?) and then proceeded to essentially stalk me for the following month till I threatened to go to the cops.  I’m not sure which of those three things really made me not like him.  I mean he’s obviously such a catch, I should have just been thankful that he wanted to be with me.  *eyes roll so far back into my head that I go blind*

After all that I took a little break from dating, haha, just kidding, no I didn’t, I got back onto Plenty of Fish and Tinder almost immediately, and by December, I had started meeting new people.  It was pretty slow going, not much to write about, until I got a message from a ghost named Max.  He sent me this really long message, apologizing for being such an asshole to me, and asked if I’d like to meet him for dinner sometime.  I messaged back laying down the law that if we were going to hang out again it would be on my terms.  So we did, and it was like a year had not passed.  I got the same feeling I had last year when we had spent time together, and it wasn’t actually until we were having sex, that I felt different.  Yes, I slept with him, can we save the judgment (I’m projecting here, I know this, shut up) for later in this post? Cause I’m betting you are gonna need all the judgment you got for later.  Anyways, when we were making the sex it was like my brain woke up and reminded me of how he treated me last year.  I started to give myself shit, like all he has to do is say he’s sorry, pay for your meal and buy you some really fancy expensive yarn (yes, he did that, and it’s beautiful and I can’t decide what I want to make with it) and you are back in his bed, and feeling like absolute garbage? What in the actual fuck is the matter with you?  So needless to say I left his place very unsettled and unsatisfied.  We saw a movie together a week or so later, and then after that you know what happened?  History repeated itself.  I just stopped hearing from him.  Again.  Because if I’ve learned one thing in this life it’s that if you do something you know you shouldn’t be doing, the universe or whatever the fuck will show you exactly why you shouldn’t have done that thing.

Which brings me to right now.  Yes there have been more funny dating stories that I could share, and a few more that are less than hilarious, but since we are talking about letting in blasts from the past when you fucking know better, and since it’s fresh in my brain, we come to last night.  After a few months of less than impressive dating stats, I wrote a big longwinded post on Facebook about the woes of dating, specifically online dating.  I was doing my best to keep things as light and funny as possible, but I obviously came off almost as dark and depressed as I have been lately, because no more than 5 minutes after I hit post, I received a text message from the infamous Erik.  If you don’t know who Erik is, then who even are you, and how did you find this tiny little blog in the most random corner of the internet?  Now, hearing from Erik is nothing new.  In fact, I’ve been hearing from him here and there a lot since Kevin and I split.  We’ve only seen each other in person a few times, but every few weeks I get a text from him, just him saying hello, or telling me something he knows I’d find interesting or funny, like a couple months ago, when a former football player I used to enjoy was working on a production he was involved with.  Our interactions have been very friendly, and while I am always painfully aware of our past whenever I see him or hear from him, overall I think we have made it to this place beyond the awkward where we can maybe actually be friends. With or without the benefits.

Last night he could tell I was down.  And no matter what the motivation to message me was, he was the only person who reached out to ask if I was ok.  He saw through the sarcasm of my post, and could tell that things maybe weren’t as lighthearted and humorous as I was trying to make it seem.  He took what could have been an awful night for me, and made it into a really fun night by doing something not many people in my life can do for me right now – he was just there.  All we did was text, but we chatted about everything from old Simpsons episodes to the thought of having kids one day to him telling me I should audition for a production sometime.  We even cleared the air about what happened between us.  He told me he still feels guilty that he couldn’t give me all the things I wanted with us, and I told him that it’s nothing to feel guilty about, that you can’t force yourself to love someone when you simply don’t.  We talked for almost 4 straight hours, and it was probably the first time since we met over 10 years ago that we actually opened up to each other like that.  Regardless of how I’m feeling today about it (slightly confused, and mad at myself that my heart still skips a tiny bit when I see his name appear on my phone) I’m so glad that it happened.  I’m glad someone, even the most unlikely person was there for me when I just needed to talk to someone.

So judge away.  I know I’m judging me.  And I know I’ll never learn.  But at least with me not learning, it gives me a reason once every 6 months at least to come back and work my shit out here.  Thanks for sticking around a little while longer with me.

Olivia

Time Travel Do-Over

 

Back to the Future DeLorean DMC

I wish I could time travel back to last year, and have a nice long conversation with myself while I was debating if I should make the move from Riverview to Lakeview.

Ok, let’s be honest, if I could time travel, I’d pick a bigger, better event to relive, like the 89′ Grey Cup. I was too young to remember that, but that would be a good place to start my time travel journey. Then, I’d go back to the day and hang out with my 3 grandparents who have since died, or I’d go back to my high school self and tell her that doing her make-up and dressing in clothes that flatter her body type isn’t going to get her pregnant like mom fucking thinks.

Then, after that, I’d go to my last year self, and tell her all about this past year, and maybe add a few dozen things onto that pro/con list I was making for the move.

I would tell year ago me that Erik and I hooked up only once before I told him how I felt, only to have him turn me way down, and remove his name off the pro column, and place him a top the cons.

I would tell her that although living with Lucy is great (pro) that she actually has a social life, and a love life and that not only does it mean you don’t get to see her much (con) you feel a shit ton of jealousy towards her because she gets out more than you do (double con) which then in turn makes you feel guilty and incredibly immature for feeling jealous (triple con).

I would tell her that because Annie and Trey both work and go to school full time, that she hardly ever gets to see them either which sucks (con) but when she does see them, it’s still always fun and comforting to have two friends who know you so well, and accept you exactly the way you are, who you can talk to about anything (huge pro).

At the same time though, she needs to know that she is going to miss Riverview so much that it hurts, and that it will be the first time since she was a child that she felt homesick. Turns out that Riverview is her home, as it was the first city where she had to make it on her own, and where she did the most growing. Year ago me takes that for granted.

Year ago me also takes for granted having a cheap place to live, a great job with awesome co-workers and benefits, and great friends who made life less lonely. Year ago me also took the men of Riverview for granted. She didn’t realize that those guys who wanted to date her and be her boyfriend there would not exist here in Lakeview, and that only her vagina would be wanted, not the rest of her. And to add to that point, I would tell myself to steer clear of Matt and Joel (haven’t told you about Joel yet, that’s the guy that my step-sister tried setting me up with) and to not sleep with either of these guys ever, because when you do, it will be almost impossible to get rid of them.  Apparently when you tell a guy that you don’t want to have sex with anyone again until you are in a relationship, it must mean something else entirely.  *Sidenote: Am I the only woman who says what she means when I’m talking to a guy?!  If I tell you that I like you, I actually do like you.  If I tell you that I don’t want to have sex with you, I mean that I don’t want to have sex with you.  It’s not code, THOSE ARE SIMPLY WORDS*

Of course it’s not all cons for the list as far as men go. I’d tell last year me that telling Erik how she felt and getting her heart smashed to pieces needed to happen in order to finally move on. And I’d tell her that while being kinda slutty is seen by others as a con, some of the sex has been pretty good (PRO) although, to be fair, most of it has not been that great. (Con)

There would be other stuff I would tell her that shouldn’t really affect her pro/con list, but would anyways, like the unbelievably annoying and inconvenient and incredibly poorly planned construction in this city for a staggering 8 months that shut down half the city’s streets almost simultaneously, but that living here also gave her the opportunity to go to almost every football game this season.

There would be a lot of things I would go back and put on that list.  I think if I really knew what this past year held, I probably would have just stayed where I was, you know, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it and such.  Mind you, I’m incredibly stubborn, so maybe I would have moved regardless of what the pro/con list said.

Now, I just want to flash forward.  I want to hop in the time machine (that I don’t actually have, so don’t come knocking at my door wanting to gun it to 88) and travel to see 5 years from now me, and see what that’s like.  I don’t typically like spoiling the endings of stories, but for this one, I’d do it.  Am I married in 5 years? Do I have any kids?  Have I finished my god damned book yet?  Am I still working for less than $20/hour and drowning in an ocean of debt and sadness? Do I live back in Riverview, or did I make the move to somewhere better, like Australia?  I think I’d enjoy Australia.  Actually, I take that back, I say I’d enjoy it, but all it would take would be for me to encounter one spider bigger than a dime, and I’d be on the first plane back to Canada.

But until I build that time machine, or find a crystal ball, I guess I just have to live my life all the way through, and get to the ending when it’s supposed to be the end.  I have to be patient until then I guess.  I fucking hate being patient.

See you next week blueberries, cause where we’re going, we don’t need roads.

Olivia