I Am What I Am And What I Am Needs No Excuses

Mood: Shiteous

Listening To: Big gay music that validates me as an individual

You know what I'd like? I'd like one summer that doesn't fall to shit come August. No, seriously, every year without fail August just shits all over me and leaves me to clean up the mess. And EVERY year it has to do with a guy. WHAT THE FUCK MAN?! I'm going dyke-a-delic on your asses, fuck this noise, at least I know women are crazy.

Okay, to be fair, I should have seen this situation was coming. I was TOLD it was coming for Christ's sakes, by MULTIPLE people, INCLUDING the person I was with. I'll leave names out, not that I really care, but because anyone who actually gives a shit knows who I'm talking about, and anyone who doesn't can ask me. And if I answer you, congrats, I actually like you. The point is this: I was told that this would not be a commitment, that it would just be for the fun of it. And I said fine, I can deal with that, thinking the entire time in the back of my mind "Pssh, I can wear this guy down."

I am a fucking egotist. Seriously. Who actually fucking thinks that shit? That they can somehow change a person, that they're worth changing for? Apparently me, which is yet another reason why I should have probably been aborted.

Stop thinking that right now, I'm not going to kill myself. Drama queens.

Sex ruins things, really and truly it does. Because you start getting used to it, you start enjoying it, you find someone who, as Dan Savage puts it is GGG--good, giving and game, and you get into a little comfort zone. And of course, if you're me, you equate sex with love. Because I want both, so why not, right? Is it so wrong to ask for someone who is a)decent in bed b) relatively good looking and c)willing to actually return my feelings? Apparently it's too much to ask because this is officially the fourth time I've wasted my time wandering down this road. Only this time I actually got something out of it. Well, kind of. Once.

Okay, it's the second time I got something out of this situation, the first time is just a slightly more permanent fixture who borrows my money and is generally adorable.

Why can't I just be a heinous bitch? Like, honestly, why can't I just walk away without leaving a little piece of myself behind. Even if I fucking HATE the guy I'm with, I still leave a little bit of myself. Sometimes it's a piece that I actually don't need, that I'm happy to be without. Sometimes it's just a lot of regrets, sometimes it's a little bit of my innocence, sometimes it's a little piece of my happiness.

I think, I HOPE, anyway, that when I finally find someone who fits the aforementioned criteria I might get some of those pieces back. Not going to lie to you, people like to point out how "awesome" I am. These people are wrong. I'm not awesome. I'm fucking stupid, and sad, and just really need to get my shit together because this shit is getting to be a bit much.

But, and here's the thing that's really retarded: I'ma still be his friend. Because it's what I do. I like having friends, friends are awesome. Also, I may one day really need sex. Or a back rub. Or both. And I'll know who I can turn to, unless he's being a twat and decides to start believing in relationships again. In which case I will kill him, for I am as fearsome as my countenance is splendid.

THE END!

...Okay, not really. It's never the end. Because it takes a hell of a lot more than this shit to keep me down, and I WILL be back, with a motherfucking vengeance, just as soon as I get my friends together to help me superglue my squishy little love organ back into working order. A couple of bandaids, a staple or two, and a sixer of Woody's blueberry and I'll be right as rain.

Or hung over. Whichever :D

Either way, fear not my fellow amigos, I will do as Gloria Gaynor has said, and survive. One day I'll find someone who is willing to go the distance, willing to risk themselves a little bit and take a chance.

We'll see who has the bigger balls then.