I Was Dumped!
Monday, July 23, 2007
... for a guy who has a car and a smooth, tight, hard body! The brilliance that is me was thrown aside for fluff! I'll never live it down.
Actually, this happened several days ago but it's only begun to sink in now. Yeah. After over a month of dating, Doc Eddie finally said he's seeing someone else. My initial reaction was, "OK, sure, whatever. We're just dating and having fun anyway. Thanks for the orgasm." And then I went on with my life. But right now, being idle for the first time in days, it's really beginning to sink in. I was dumped.
It shouldn't be surprising at all, considering my track record for getting rejected is quite phenomenal. By all rights, I should already be a ninja master of the stuff. Separating the physical motions from the emotional anguish such acts may cause is an art which no longer requires an extremely high amount of mental fortitude from me.
But... it does. And everytime it happens, the pain is brand spankin' new.
And this is about R. I have written a score of entries about him, of course, but this was the first one that actually said, "No."
The Tragedy of Recursion
Thursday, July 20, 2006
It amazed me how easily you seemed to have said it. "I had the perfectest date." Simple, innocent, noncommittal. Much similar to when someone would say, "I had puttanesca for dinner," or "I see your point." And for a minute, I actually believed 'perfectest' was a real word. One never knows what you will say next.
I, for one, never knew how being hit by a sledgehammer felt like until you've finished saying what you just said. And you carried on too, chronicling how he went to your place first and then going to the mall together afterwards, and how you had a spectacular time, agreeing to meet again the following night.
To my credit, I found myself uttering complete nonsense such as, "Wow," or "That's great," or "Really," successfully keeping to my fingers what I really wanted to say, which, I think was to the effect of, "Could you please not tell me about it anymore? Ever?"
However, no sooner than I thunk it did I discover my fingers betraying my thoughts, sending the exact same message to your IM window. It was immediately followed by, "I'm sorry I didn't imagine it would be this painful." And finally, "I'll let you know when I'm OK." And then a smiley :-) for good measure. Then I disconnected.
I didn't die, as I'd hoped I would. What did happen, what it did feel, was like being launched into space, without warning. Alien abductors crashed through the windows of the 21st floor office, carrying me up past the exosphere without so much as a bubble helmet, and leaving me there to suffocate in cosmic dust.
I was beaten. Defeated by my own delusions. And once again I am here, orbiting in the dark expanse of space. Waiting for gravity to pull me, hoping this time around, my feet will stick firmly to the ground.
And there were many others before and betwixt, sung and unsung. After years and years, I'm still the same. Eto, eto ako. Parts missing, artificial, sometimes hollow and empty. Naka-scotch tape na lang ang pagkatao ko, I was telling a friend. Whenever I'm in front of someone new, I say "Hi, I'm Pii." I wave my hand and a finger falls off, an eye pops out, and a leg disjoints itself. "Ooops, that was from when I was last rejected," I say. "Will you like me just the same?"
He reminded me that we're all scarred and broken. It's a fundamental concept of the human condition. But if I keep telling myself that, I'm afraid I will begin to not care about love anymore. Take what I can get and earn money enough to pay the bills. It's a lonely, cold way of existence, like a broken clock inside a dark, dank room, and I don't want that to happen. I thought at first living one's life is a matter of choice, but now it's beginning to feel like I'm being forced into that hole. What is the Universe conspiring to do to me?
Apologies if I have been spiraling down recently, but I can't help feeling this way. It's true. One can only have enough strength, and I'm running on empty. This is what I have, this is what I am given to work with. What kind of finished product is the Universe expecting me to deliver? Please do not believe me when I say I'm OK, that's just me saying it, because I am too afraid to give voice to what is otherwise true out loud. I am lost. Completely, absolutely, irrevocably lost.
"How could I have been so ignorant? she thinks. So stupid, so unseeing, so given over to carelessness. But without such ignorance, such carelessness, how could we live? If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next -- if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions -- you'd be doomed. You'd be as ruined as God. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone, ever again. You'd never dare to."
Iris Chase, from the book Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
