A few days ago, I was on a roof, talking to someone I really look up to and respect from a music journalism standpoint. I’ve been involved in the music industry to some extent since I was about 22, and it has been a wild ride. Anyway, I had the bright idea to bring up a writer (she does more than that too) that we mutually know. He says “Oh yeah I know her!” and I calmly let off ….
“She doesn’t fuck with me, at all.”
I felt the slight tinge of anger in my voice when I said it….and I noticed something.
I’m still pissed off.
We used to date. This much should be obvious by now. We used to date for a WHILE. On and off. “You’re great” one day, “fuck, I really hate you” the next. I didn’t really know what I was angry about, but I took a little time during the aforementioned conversation and on the train ride home to figure it out.
I was mostly upset with myself.
We have been done since May; when I say “done” I mean, we literally don’t speak. I bought that situation back into life(during one of our multiple stretches of not being cool), knowing it was the absolutely wrong decision to make. The reason it wasn’t a good idea….well, I may not have enough time to explain. To put it plainly, constantly breathing life into a corpse of a situation like the one we had, was top 5 stupid. We are a solid fit on a certain level, but our difference in ideologies/completely contrasting life experiences lead to resentment. Add in the leftover anger from our constant splits and long gaps of not speaking, and of course it’s a mess.
But knowing all that, I still did it. I still visited. I still gave her a weekend of my time. Predictably, it didn’t go too well. I was super lonely and kind of bewildered by life; I grabbed for what I knew, for what I could trust. I didn’t really tell my friends what I was doing because I knew they would scold me, and I wasn’t trying to hear that shit. In just about every friend circle I have, I am the one who makes the rational, well thought out decision. Yet, here I am, messing with my former fellow intern who really doesn’t even like me anymore. All because I wanted to be comforted and be amongst something familiar to me. But don’t get me wrong; she definitely held me down and kept me focused when a lot of other people wouldn’t, or couldn’t. So I also felt…indebted in a way.
I was there for 3 nights and 2 days. So I’m trying to spend time with her and….she kinda doesn’t care. I passed on a party back home to come out here for her. I told her “yeah I moved some plans around a little to come out”…..she turned, looked me in the eye and said….
“Don’t change your plans for me.”
This was after asking em to come see her for MONTHS. I get it though; she got to the point of no longer caring; she had to wait too long.
That was it. No “thanks for doing that”, no fake concern, nothing. Just “don’t do it”. I was taken aback and I kind of started to scramble to save face/find out why she felt that way, but that was a waste. Nothing to explain. She no longer feels you like that, and you probably should’ve stayed in NYC. But that was early on in the trip; I was in for the long haul now.
I went to my friend’s birthday celebration that afternoon. It was fantastic; I got to see my dude happy, it felt like undergrad again. I was on a roof, my shirt was inappropriately buttoned , I drank Ciroc out of a bottle for some reason, I had too much pineapple and rum; wins all around. Except………me and the girl in question were supposed to go to the movies after this party. I told her I wouldn’t be too drunk when she came to get me.
I stepped outside, I couldn’t even see the street, let alone her car. All I remember is throwing up out of the passenger side A LOT, her stopping at a gas station, then me barely taking my clothes off and going to sleep. I also vividly remember saying “I’m sorry” until I felt stupid. I was super embarrassed.
I go out, I get drunk, I am somewhat of a hooligan. But I rarely, RARELY throw up. I also don’t get belligerent and ridiculous very often. I was all of the above, and I hated myself for it. Since I NEVER do this, especially when I made a promise concerning a later engagement…..something was amiss. Looking back, I think I was really stressed about “our” situation and subconsciously tried to drink it away. What we needed wasn’t another date; we needed to stop this shit for the both of us. I also DEFINITELY planned to have sex that night, but no one is climbing on me with vomit breath and a dirty ass shirt. I was also, too drunk to have sex. I’ve literally been too drunk for sex TWICE in my life, this being the second time. If I can breathe, I’m going to put it in there. Not the case that night, and I’m sort of glad it went that way. Sexual contact only would’ve worsened what was already a mess.
The next day was awkward. We ate. We watched movies. We argued about some super stupid shit that she offended me with. I got on that bus home and knew it was over. I felt a little sad because clearly, I cared to some level (and it ended so abruptly and terribly). But I felt more of a relief, because I knew I was in the wrong place, with the wrong person. A few days into that next week, I was at peace with it. Well really, mostly at peace. Her name being bought up this weekend allowed me to finally forgive myself for whatever strife I put her and (REALLY) myself through. Life has looked up since, and I am thankful for that.