Bed of nails

Not really, but you wouldn't think a cat would love laying on his scratching box from Trad.er Joe's quite so much. At least he usually scratches there, too.

Actually, I'm the one on the bed of nails. I was already wrestling with the idea that with Saturday comes the one year anniversary of the conversation that broke up P and I, how I thought that was the end and I was relieved, how it drug out when I wanted stuff back, how this went on for the next two and a half months. Then there came all the revelations in February which shattered me. Now with this anniversary (and the harder engagement one coming on July 3), I think of how much he has moved on, despite completely lacking self-awareness (which I am learning is a very nice condition to have), to form an entirely new life.

When I consider him, he is in a different place and I'm sure he thinks he is better off. I am wallowing in the same place. I have not done a fucking thing in the last year. Each time I thought I was over him, something else would come up or be revealed.

His wife recently changed her MySpace picture from the stupid chain-attached "OWNED" sign around her neck to the picture I had posted here before. I wonder what that meant, if being owned by P has gotten old or of she has settled a bit from her newlywed craze. Either way, I think she's matured a bit.

What magnified the pain of these memories further was a conversation over the weekend. An acquaintance, Rachel, from the singles group who I'd just seen here and there before, but didn't talk much one-on-one. I spent the day with her on Sunday. She asked me questions about Luke, the guy over the holidays who I dated 3-4 months. If you'll recall, I told him off one night in January in a different city, then refused to ride in the van back with the group, that night being when Ted and his buddy let me stay in their room. I felt rejected by him one too many times, the funny thing being that I had broken up with him at Thanksgiving and Xmas as well. He kept wooing me back, would be contrite, was very persuasive, etc.

As it turns out, he was emailing at least two other women from the group during this time, to include Rachel. He was dicking me around, not letting me be, while he was also covering for his future without me. The kicker is his philosophy, which I have learned that he's imposed on at least one other woman from the group since: do not have any sort of relationships with other men, as it detracts from the togetherness and relationship with him. He'd tried to make me give up Richard as a friend, but I said I wouldn't. Any semblance of cheating was too much to him and, just like P with L's mother, I thought was because he'd been cheated on and left in a heap. As it turns out, he thought developing new relationships was fine for himself and perhaps he and P were guilty parties all along.

It's not that I think these guys are worth my time. I don't want them, but the circumstances make me feel stupid, duped, unintelligent, unaware, as if my radar is faulty. Honestly, though I think my radar is fine, I just have a hard time politely/thoroughly breaking things off when I am first aware it isn't working, as with Ted or early on as with P or Luke. They don't listen and it progresses past my mature means of handling it to me coming to a boiling point, during which time they've gone behind my back. I am realizing the dynamic now. I need to throw out the baby with the bathwater.

Guys. They are not worth it. My cynicism has only grown. This serves to further prove my new theory. When a guy (or anyone) has a 'thing' about something and it is projected on you, it is actually a reflection of who they are (e.g., cheaters or cheapsters) more than what they want from or fear others (e.g., being cheated on or anyone else being cheap.) I'm getting pretty 20/20 about this, need to get it in the forebrain.

Not that I'll be dating any time soon. Instead, today is another day of puking and I am at a loss of why twice in less than two weeks. Perhaps it's a literal purge this time.