Wednesday, February 24, 2010

I think this verse died...

It's been a long time since I've updated.
It's been a very... tumultuous... month, to say the least.

This week has probably been the worst I've had in a while.

Work has been miserable. Working way too many days on way too little sleep is making Alex just the slightest bit on edge. I've got TJM syndrome, meaning my jaw pops and cracks and falls in and out a lot, and it hurts like a motherfucker on the daily.

On top of it, Glenn and I broke up Monday night.

While it was relatively mutual, I'm mostly confused because he's the one that really brought it up. I wanted to break up with him because he really just wasn't treating me right. He broke up with me because we aren't really compatible, which I agree with, but he seemed so... relieved. Of course, he's not the first guy to be relieved to no longer be in a relationship with me.

That's really starting to concern me though. Why are guys so excited to have my weight off their shoulders? I'm not an emotionally overbearing person (that I'm aware of.) I'm not a bad boyfriend. Their friends usually like me. I don't fill the relationship with negative energy, and I don't berate or belittle them in public.

And yet every guy, when we have the " can we not date anymore?" talk, they're always so fucking excited to get it over with. Kyle? After Kyle and I broke up dumped me, he said, "So, in sadder news, did you see who went home on America's Next Top Model tonight?"



Glenn wasn't that cold. He couldn't wait to have "the talk," and simply said that we're not compatible and he can't see us moving forward with the relationship. We both knew the whole time that it was true, but I'm still not sure what spurred him to end it. The last time I'd seen him had been a good time... for him, at least.
Despite my protests, he got himself all sorts of tanked, talked about how much he loved mushrooms (not the cooking kind), and attempted to make me soup from scratch. No one else was drinking, and left around 2.00 AM. After convincing him to finally come to bed, since we both had work in the morning, we had sex, and afterward he said "...I think I'm going to throw up." He then passed out in my bed, so I got stuck in the spare bed.
After we dropped him at the train the next day, I knew it by the time I got home - I had to break up with him. I didn't know when or how, since I don't break up with people. I just don't. I knew, though, that I couldn't continue.

Fast forward to now. I knew that I was going to miss him. I also knew that when we broke up, he wouldn't care, and I knew that it would kill me. And sure enough, nothing hurt more than when he "like"d the breakup on facebook.

Fast forward to my exacerbated insomnia and irritability. Fast forward to being at work and just wanting to lay on the floor and cry. Fast forward to going out with my friends on Tuesday night and just feeling a million miles away. Fast forward to being asked a million times if I'm "okay".

The more you ask me if I'm okay the more annoying it gets - when I say "I'm Okay" the first time, it means that I'm either a) okay, or b) not gonna fuckin' talk about it. Just so you know.

I'll be okay. Really. It just might take me a little bit of time.