Here's the background scene every strategically good book starts with: Crying, miserable, ready to resign her control over. Weeping until the breath is drained from her lungs at every sob, she begs for a second chance, a second happiness, something better than the brimstone fire of despair that burns steadily away at the pathetic embers of her broken facade. "Please," she begs, "Please just let me be happy again. Give me a second chance and You can decide whatever You want. Show me and I will listen. I am so sorry for forsaking you in the first place. I swear I'm Yours. Take me back. Help me, please, You are the only one who can..."
So someone should totally smack me. Seriously. You know how Russians hit shit to make it work? Maybe I need that to get my brain to work. Let's take a simple quiz.
You are unable to focus on a movie because you're too busy getting butterflies in your stomach for the man you're laying with. Making out with a hot Army guy that you're pretty much smitten with, the phone rings. It's your ex. You:
a) Turn your shit off
b) Continue. Next is the shirt.
c) Throw your new phone
d) Pick it up.
Hey, here's a hint. Maybe the answer isn't D. 0. You got a 0 on this quiz you dumb bitch. Fail. EPIC. I know what was going through my head, though, and it was honorable. He told me once that if I only picked up he'd stop calling. I just wanted him to stop calling.
He had every right to get hurt or insulted or angry. He had every right to make me realize how wrong that was. If it were me, I probably would not have even been so understanding. Forgiven, my downtrodden stupid self went for a ride to clear my head. Mayank wanted me to call, and I wanted to call.
"Hey so who were you watching the movie with?"
"Alan."
"G?"
"No, Army."
"Oh. May I ask you a question, and you sure you won't mind?"
"Yes, please do continue."
"Do you think you'll move on?"
"I don't know what is in my future. I can't see that far ahead. All I know is that I like spending time with him and he makes me happy, and I have no strings attached to anybody."
"Do you think you will become attracted to him?"
"Yes I do. I want to learn more about him, and the more I learn about him, the more I like. I like his personality and we have a lot in common and he puts me at peace. I didn't used to understand what Josh meant when he told me some things, but I understand now, and I am happy."
The only thing that I didn't tell him is what isn't any of his business, only mine and Army's.
Let me summarize the agonizing minutes into the basic points. I easily replace people. I broke promises. I lied when I said I'd give him a second chance for a mistake. I'm doing this on purpose. I am doing this for revenge. I move from guy to guy. Let's get back together. Just give me a chance. I know you are happy, but I can make you happier. We can work on it if we try.
Let's tackle that list, shall we? I do not replace ANYONE. No relationship I build with anyone is the same as any previous or forthcoming. I break no promises because I make no promises I can't keep. Mistake? Having a shitty relationship is not a mistake, it is two people being wrong for each other. You broke up with me, you fucked this up, I tried my best. Doing this on purpose? I'm trying to slow myself down so I do this all right. Let's not get back together. I would be living a lie. It's not about fights anymore, it's about romantic feelings--I have NONE. You can't work on something like that. If you even had a chance, why would you have kept it? You have done nothing but proven me right from text message to text message to phone call to facebook status that you are a cruel, hurtful, mean person and I knew exactly who I am broken up with and that I was right and he hasn't changed. How can he even begin to understand what makes me happy? I'll tell you what. What does it take for you to understand and believe me that it is NOT HAPPENING because I don't WANT IT TO, it's MY CHOICE, and I am happy? Should I tell you how I feel when he's around? When I look into his eyes? When he touches my hand? He's not a rebound; I experience genuine happiness. Is that so wrong? Am I sleeping around? Expecting commitment or relationship? Hooking up? Using someone? Being conscienceless? No. None of the above. I told Army the truth. His friendship plus whatever we have going is worth more to me. I lost the best thing in my life. I'm not fucking up a good thing. I'm not fucking up my second chance at happiness for the same reason I fucked up before. I'm not being stupid this time, and I'm not spitting in God's face. I told Mayank everything, and when he didn't understand, I said it blatantly. I do not want to get back together, it is not happening, and no, I can't spend as much time with him as with Army because the kind of time I spend with Army is differently motivated. There's so much to learn. He intrigues me, interests me, makes me happy, and gives me peace. I don't see my best friends every day unless I live with them. I see Army daily, though.
Crowning jewel on this monarchy of Suck:
"You are worthless to me if we are not together. You are the biggest liar I have ever met. You are a worthless piece of shit. I truly and seriously hope that you end up in a divorce with some asshole and are miserable and alone. You lost all of your friends because you fucked up. One more thing--you can go suck his cock. I'm going to write you an e-mail sometime this week. Read through it and really think about where you're headed in your life." Dana, may I get off the phone now?
Um...I won't do that, but if you like, if we ever have sex, I'll take pics and send them to you attached to a Thank You card for your friendly advice.
Whatever. I'm glad this happened. I probably wouldn't have been ballsy enough to do what I did if Army didn't hand it to me straight. I can't believe I almost fucked such a good thing up. At least I have time to make up for it. I started by calling him and telling him that I came clean.
Choice quotes:
"I won't let this happen to me." Oh really? What will you do? I'd rather die than live a lie knowing I could have been happy with someone else.
"Once you lose me, I'm gone forever." Big loss. I really need someone in my life to make me feel like shit on the bottom of a jogger's shoe.
"How could you do this after someone did it to you?" Because it makes sense to be happy instead of being bitched at. I know what he's going through, and I also know he's wrong. Love is wanting someone to be happy and doing whatever it takes to keep them in your life. Not the opposite. This is all a little too crazy for me. I'll take my snowed in cuddles and intoxicated Tuesdays in peace, Thank You.
Damn...God Bless America. *salute*
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Wood.
There is no coming back from this. There is no tumult waiting to capsize my calm. There is no rustling in the warm, sunny glad within me. There is only sunlight, yellow and fertile. The buds wait only for the word, and they will bloom. No, there is no wind and no threat, there is only quiet luxury of peace and the sound of life.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
BBFF: Blog Best Friend Forever
I know...I'll tell you!!!
I wanted to tell someone [other than my mom, whom I called at 5:30 am about this] about how I feel. I don't think anyone is home who would empathize, and my boyfriend is being mock-happy and sarcastic right now, so I have a blog!
Last night was the best night ever. After three classes (skipped one) and work, my assistant manager came in to relieve me at 9:00 pm so I could go to the Russian club meeting. I went home, quickly changed, made it on time, and took a seat. There must have been about 30-40 people there! I was nervous and a little shy at first, and after introductions, everyone was welcome to Russian refreshments. I meekly placed a couple of treats on my plate and sat down. After sitting along for about 2 minutes like a dumbass (who goes to a club to meet people and sits alone?) I went to go chat with Etel. Another officer chimed in, Sasha, and we struck up a conversation about our mutual suffering in engineering. This conversation dominated and led back to the desks (after we realized we were the only ones standing) and continued on to what classes he would have had cancelled the next day, Differential Equations, and zodiac signs, including whether or not we believe. He's a Scorpio, too, October birthday close to mine. Anyway, the meeting continued with a rousing(?) game of Mafia, a suspicion game based on accusations and murder (yay!). Some people (with a sense of humor and fun attitudes) enjoyed it more than others (who have trouble understanding the concept of suspense and why not anonymity is crucial to the game). I was a cop and they killed me off for trying to help them pin a mafioso. Damn it I'm a cop it's my job (literally, in the game, only we know for sure) to know. Afterward, we broke up into small groups to play/learn to play a card game called Durak, with relatively complicated rules. It was still so welcome and so strange to hear and understand Russian conversations behind me in the classroom. Sasha was advising us newbies on the strategic methods best to use in Durak, and after clean up, I bummed a ride home. Upon arriving to Mayank's place (where I got dropped off) he seemed okay enough, though perhaps a bit bummed at not being able to see me to hang out. However, not five minutes after I got there, Etel called me back and invited me to their apartment to hang out with her, her roommates, and the rest of the club officers. This time, Oleg swung by to pick me up with the others in tow, and we stopped at 7-Eleven for fruit punch before heading to join Sasha at the ladies' Busch apartment. Upon arrival, I popped open a beer (Natural Ice...because even piss is tolerable cold) with the guys and relaxed on the couch before Nastya made the jungle juice and we began a round of Kings. The slightly different rules were fun, though, and the game lasted an extremely long time. Of course, only Russians would make rules like, "Every time you drink, you drink twice." and "Drinker picks a buddy" and "Drinker's buddy picks a buddy." Around the third rule (Drink every time you say "like"), everyone began to get understandably fucked up. This mission was further accomplished by the guys' desire to finish off that crappy 30-pack of Natural Ice, which triumphantly ended in a shirt off, with drunken dancing, ghetto strobe lights, and awesome Russian techno music mixed in with our usual favorites. After several rounds of creative Truth or Dare (nothing inappropriate, actually--what do you think we are--Americans? lol)
...Aaaaaand what a great idea it would be to go have a snowball fight! When we first got to the apartment, we saw scantily clad (for February blizzards, that is) black guys completely fucking each other up in the snow. We decided to be with each other in the snow, completely fucked up. The others lit up a cigarette and then came the horseplay. Idiots that we were, the booze made us feel warmer than we thought, so Etel insisted on preventing my hypothermia with the generosity of the warm contents of her closet. On our slippery, wobbly journey to the door, Sasha sabotages our desire for not-pneumonia by pulling us away, inevitably ending in rolling around in snow, throwing snowballs, and uncontrollable laughter paused only for excited shouts in Russian. Though being shirtless with just a light windbreaker open over his torso was enough for him, Etel and I successfully returned warmer and dressed more heavily in preparation for going on the swings. "Teeeshe, teeshe, ve zhe znayeti shto shas Indeeskaya zhenshena budyet kryechat na nas?" she warned, "Etel, yazhheee smaguuu po Hindiiskii na neyoo nakreechattt!! Shto tie volnuyeshsya!?" I warned, barely clinging in an awkward position to being carried across the yard. On the swings, we discovered that it is difficult for someone to sit on your lap while swinging. We next discovered a snowman, which was promptly destroyed by the gentlemen after a valiant effort by Etel to thwart their snow pillaging. We rebuilt it, crooked, many times, with sticks in the wrong places and lumpy middles insulting human design, but stumbled away successfully to go aid some guy who drove his Mustang into a drift. Shouting proudly about the RUSSIAN COMRADES TO DE RESCUE, we huffed and puffed his 8-cylinder out and started for the apartment. While Sasha was insisting on drifting his Kia, completely wasted, in the parking lot, I tried to convince him instead to give me the keys. When that didn't work, we convinced him we'll go after we warm up inside. On the way back home, I saw it. A shopping cart. I screamed, "A SHOPPING CART!!!!!!!!!1" and climbed in, proclaiming what a great idea this was! They drifted the cart with me in tow in the wet, sticky snow and after falling several times, we went back to the apartment. For more drinking. And more dancing. And more Truth or Dare, before Colya finally drove me home in his BMW, which, by the way, BEASTED the snow. At 6 am, groggy and gushing with joy, I went to sleep with a cranky Mayank.
So what of this evening? I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of belonging that this awakened in me. After so many years of wondering what it was that was making me feel just slightly out of place, I was welcomed into a group of friends and hospitable hosts that carried on in traditionally influenced fun. How can I explain what makes it so different? How can I adequately describe the relief of being able to speak Russian to people my own age, with similar stories, attitudes, and beliefs about fun and good times? I never ever felt so comfortable, and the atmosphere never felt so genuinely dripping with goodwill as I felt last night in the company of Russian/Belorussian/Ukrainian Americans. I never quite fit in with Russians, and I never quite perfectly fit with Americans, but Russian Americans are exactly my breed of understanding! No one here is faking kindness, or grinning an awkward smile to be polite. No one is trying to get laid. No one is getting fucked up to see how much they can chug. No one is waiting for someone to pass out to draw on them (they were conscious for that part). No one is lazy, on the couch, talking about how fucked up they are. We all got together for a relaxing fun time around friends to enjoy their company and feel a sense of togetherness from the unique brand of party that comes from our blended cultural backgrounds. I felt a sense of trust, kinship, friendliness, honesty, innocence, and goodwill that can often only be achieved around people you've known your whole life. Yet, with Russians, this feeling happens after an hour or two of knowing them. That's what makes our social life and behavior different. I finally belonged somewhere. I finally had an identity, found it, sharing its skeletal contours with many wonderful people who inherently understood and shared my sentiments.
Did I mention the hospitality?
P.S. WARNING: BREAKS TONE OF BLOG ENTRY. I wake up to a Mayank angry about what time I came home, sarcastically urging me to sleep and insisting that I need it. Seriously? What happened to a boyfriend being there to listen to their partner and being supportive of their emotions? What happened to the listening---the understanding? How can I tell him the deep satisfaction of the connection I made? Isn't he supposed to be the first one I gush to--and he's worried about what time his prized posession comes home and how proper or improper it is, and how to leash the pet he's parenting? I'm 21, not 45. At 45, I'll only stay out to 4 am. I just hate the piss-poor level of understanding and the finger wagging and the silent anger, burning caustically in the phrases dripping with sarcasm. What happened to being each other's best friends? Does that stop? I just left. I left, finally, without trying to start an argument. He doesn't realize how he made himself appear the other day when he ignored me and coldheartedly, cruelly cast me aside as some animal. He doesn't realize that I no longer trust him enough to tell him my deep emotions from last night, and that is the most costly loss I can think of. This is a different kind of trust. This is the trust you have when you believe people will listen, when people will care, when people will understand. I don't trust him to listen to me--to see me as a human being with feelings and deeper emotions. I can't confide in him. What is that? Who will see me as a person? I'm tired of being a posession, when the only thing that matters in the stead of my happiness is what time I come home and do as is wanted or expected of me. I thought I moved out of my house, and even my parents never ever lost my trust in that regard. (I called my mom at 5:30 am to tell her about this and she understood so perfectly.)
I wanted to tell someone [other than my mom, whom I called at 5:30 am about this] about how I feel. I don't think anyone is home who would empathize, and my boyfriend is being mock-happy and sarcastic right now, so I have a blog!
Last night was the best night ever. After three classes (skipped one) and work, my assistant manager came in to relieve me at 9:00 pm so I could go to the Russian club meeting. I went home, quickly changed, made it on time, and took a seat. There must have been about 30-40 people there! I was nervous and a little shy at first, and after introductions, everyone was welcome to Russian refreshments. I meekly placed a couple of treats on my plate and sat down. After sitting along for about 2 minutes like a dumbass (who goes to a club to meet people and sits alone?) I went to go chat with Etel. Another officer chimed in, Sasha, and we struck up a conversation about our mutual suffering in engineering. This conversation dominated and led back to the desks (after we realized we were the only ones standing) and continued on to what classes he would have had cancelled the next day, Differential Equations, and zodiac signs, including whether or not we believe. He's a Scorpio, too, October birthday close to mine. Anyway, the meeting continued with a rousing(?) game of Mafia, a suspicion game based on accusations and murder (yay!). Some people (with a sense of humor and fun attitudes) enjoyed it more than others (who have trouble understanding the concept of suspense and why not anonymity is crucial to the game). I was a cop and they killed me off for trying to help them pin a mafioso. Damn it I'm a cop it's my job (literally, in the game, only we know for sure) to know. Afterward, we broke up into small groups to play/learn to play a card game called Durak, with relatively complicated rules. It was still so welcome and so strange to hear and understand Russian conversations behind me in the classroom. Sasha was advising us newbies on the strategic methods best to use in Durak, and after clean up, I bummed a ride home. Upon arriving to Mayank's place (where I got dropped off) he seemed okay enough, though perhaps a bit bummed at not being able to see me to hang out. However, not five minutes after I got there, Etel called me back and invited me to their apartment to hang out with her, her roommates, and the rest of the club officers. This time, Oleg swung by to pick me up with the others in tow, and we stopped at 7-Eleven for fruit punch before heading to join Sasha at the ladies' Busch apartment. Upon arrival, I popped open a beer (Natural Ice...because even piss is tolerable cold) with the guys and relaxed on the couch before Nastya made the jungle juice and we began a round of Kings. The slightly different rules were fun, though, and the game lasted an extremely long time. Of course, only Russians would make rules like, "Every time you drink, you drink twice." and "Drinker picks a buddy" and "Drinker's buddy picks a buddy." Around the third rule (Drink every time you say "like"), everyone began to get understandably fucked up. This mission was further accomplished by the guys' desire to finish off that crappy 30-pack of Natural Ice, which triumphantly ended in a shirt off, with drunken dancing, ghetto strobe lights, and awesome Russian techno music mixed in with our usual favorites. After several rounds of creative Truth or Dare (nothing inappropriate, actually--what do you think we are--Americans? lol)
...Aaaaaand what a great idea it would be to go have a snowball fight! When we first got to the apartment, we saw scantily clad (for February blizzards, that is) black guys completely fucking each other up in the snow. We decided to be with each other in the snow, completely fucked up. The others lit up a cigarette and then came the horseplay. Idiots that we were, the booze made us feel warmer than we thought, so Etel insisted on preventing my hypothermia with the generosity of the warm contents of her closet. On our slippery, wobbly journey to the door, Sasha sabotages our desire for not-pneumonia by pulling us away, inevitably ending in rolling around in snow, throwing snowballs, and uncontrollable laughter paused only for excited shouts in Russian. Though being shirtless with just a light windbreaker open over his torso was enough for him, Etel and I successfully returned warmer and dressed more heavily in preparation for going on the swings. "Teeeshe, teeshe, ve zhe znayeti shto shas Indeeskaya zhenshena budyet kryechat na nas?" she warned, "Etel, yazhheee smaguuu po Hindiiskii na neyoo nakreechattt!! Shto tie volnuyeshsya!?" I warned, barely clinging in an awkward position to being carried across the yard. On the swings, we discovered that it is difficult for someone to sit on your lap while swinging. We next discovered a snowman, which was promptly destroyed by the gentlemen after a valiant effort by Etel to thwart their snow pillaging. We rebuilt it, crooked, many times, with sticks in the wrong places and lumpy middles insulting human design, but stumbled away successfully to go aid some guy who drove his Mustang into a drift. Shouting proudly about the RUSSIAN COMRADES TO DE RESCUE, we huffed and puffed his 8-cylinder out and started for the apartment. While Sasha was insisting on drifting his Kia, completely wasted, in the parking lot, I tried to convince him instead to give me the keys. When that didn't work, we convinced him we'll go after we warm up inside. On the way back home, I saw it. A shopping cart. I screamed, "A SHOPPING CART!!!!!!!!!1" and climbed in, proclaiming what a great idea this was! They drifted the cart with me in tow in the wet, sticky snow and after falling several times, we went back to the apartment. For more drinking. And more dancing. And more Truth or Dare, before Colya finally drove me home in his BMW, which, by the way, BEASTED the snow. At 6 am, groggy and gushing with joy, I went to sleep with a cranky Mayank.
So what of this evening? I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of belonging that this awakened in me. After so many years of wondering what it was that was making me feel just slightly out of place, I was welcomed into a group of friends and hospitable hosts that carried on in traditionally influenced fun. How can I explain what makes it so different? How can I adequately describe the relief of being able to speak Russian to people my own age, with similar stories, attitudes, and beliefs about fun and good times? I never ever felt so comfortable, and the atmosphere never felt so genuinely dripping with goodwill as I felt last night in the company of Russian/Belorussian/Ukrainian Americans. I never quite fit in with Russians, and I never quite perfectly fit with Americans, but Russian Americans are exactly my breed of understanding! No one here is faking kindness, or grinning an awkward smile to be polite. No one is trying to get laid. No one is getting fucked up to see how much they can chug. No one is waiting for someone to pass out to draw on them (they were conscious for that part). No one is lazy, on the couch, talking about how fucked up they are. We all got together for a relaxing fun time around friends to enjoy their company and feel a sense of togetherness from the unique brand of party that comes from our blended cultural backgrounds. I felt a sense of trust, kinship, friendliness, honesty, innocence, and goodwill that can often only be achieved around people you've known your whole life. Yet, with Russians, this feeling happens after an hour or two of knowing them. That's what makes our social life and behavior different. I finally belonged somewhere. I finally had an identity, found it, sharing its skeletal contours with many wonderful people who inherently understood and shared my sentiments.
Did I mention the hospitality?
P.S. WARNING: BREAKS TONE OF BLOG ENTRY. I wake up to a Mayank angry about what time I came home, sarcastically urging me to sleep and insisting that I need it. Seriously? What happened to a boyfriend being there to listen to their partner and being supportive of their emotions? What happened to the listening---the understanding? How can I tell him the deep satisfaction of the connection I made? Isn't he supposed to be the first one I gush to--and he's worried about what time his prized posession comes home and how proper or improper it is, and how to leash the pet he's parenting? I'm 21, not 45. At 45, I'll only stay out to 4 am. I just hate the piss-poor level of understanding and the finger wagging and the silent anger, burning caustically in the phrases dripping with sarcasm. What happened to being each other's best friends? Does that stop? I just left. I left, finally, without trying to start an argument. He doesn't realize how he made himself appear the other day when he ignored me and coldheartedly, cruelly cast me aside as some animal. He doesn't realize that I no longer trust him enough to tell him my deep emotions from last night, and that is the most costly loss I can think of. This is a different kind of trust. This is the trust you have when you believe people will listen, when people will care, when people will understand. I don't trust him to listen to me--to see me as a human being with feelings and deeper emotions. I can't confide in him. What is that? Who will see me as a person? I'm tired of being a posession, when the only thing that matters in the stead of my happiness is what time I come home and do as is wanted or expected of me. I thought I moved out of my house, and even my parents never ever lost my trust in that regard. (I called my mom at 5:30 am to tell her about this and she understood so perfectly.)
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