Mode Of Indifference14:54 Aug 04 2013
Times Read: 544
I've had quite a fucked up time the past few years. What I'm going to post in this particular entry are things that will ultimately fall on deaf ears, but I need to get it out anyways. If you're not in the mood to read scathing honesty, and would just as well assume that this is going to turn into some /wrist emoqueen post, that's cool. Fuck off, and don't come back, I'm not going to lose any sleep over what you think of me.
Ultimately, this post is simply a means for me to say things that I feel I need to say at this current point in time. I'm not going to name individuals, only situations and my view on the events that transpired. So here goes.
Scenario 1 - The Seven Deadly Sins
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You complained that I drank too much and was never around. I worked two jobs to keep a roof over our head. In return, you sat around the house all day, ate everything in sight, and whined about how your life sucked and how you had no friends. I offered to introduce you to my friends, but you said you weren't sure if you'd like them. Sounds more like a personal problem to me.
Later on, you decided to sleep around because you were convinced I was shooting blanks, and really wanted to have a child. You had the option of going to a fertility specialist (free of charge, might I remind you) if that was really what you wanted. In reality, what you were probably interested in wasn't having a child, but instead having multiple dicks on the side without having me find out about it. And you know I'm right, too.
The most ironic part that happened was before I dumped your ass, when you suggested that I have one of my relatives bail your ass out of a bind, instead of finding a job and helping pay some of the bills. Let's face it, you were looking for a sugar daddy. Go fuck yourself.
When you decided to date/screw a coke dealer, and start using, somehow you wonder why your child has so many medical problems. Is it really a mystery as to why I wouldn't date you when I moved back to Ohio? Oh, and fuck your brother, too. He's exactly where he deserves to be. It's no wonder his ex left him, and he's financially responsible for what, like half a dozen kids in 4 separate counties? Not even by the same woman, either. Seems to me that someone needs to start wrapping their goddamn tool, or get their balls clipped. To this day, I'm honestly not sure who the bigger whore is between the two of you.
Scenario 2 - Selective Amnesia
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Ah, wedding bells. That's pretty cool, I guess, but after my experience with you, I'm pretty certain he only married you out of desperation and/or fear. The only reason I put up with your bullshit as long as I did was because I felt sorry for you, and figured that perhaps I could help build you into that "better person" you said you wanted to become.
Nobody likes you because you're a psychopath that needs to be institutionalized. I suppose the good thing that came out of it is that I realized the extent of my own problems, but at the cost of a convalescence that really, you should have been taking instead. Never been in a physically violent relationship up until that point, and I plan on ensuring that I never go through that again.
I'm not going to deny the fact that once my stay at the psych ward had ended, I was put on a powerful cocktail of meds for quite some time. Ativan, Ambien CR, Klonodine, Celebrex. The real kicker was that none of them worked, even at the level I was prescribed, and even the doctor that had intermittently seen me afterwards was amazed I was able to function at all.
Then when I got home, the first thing you did was start harping on me again, and then acted like I was the one that was being unreasonable when I said, "If you're going to keep doing the same shit over and over and over again, then you're the one that needs help."
When I moved back up here, I warned you about your paranoid bullshit, and that the next time it happens, I'm done. Somehow, you expected me to turn the truck around, and come back and get you from the bus stop when your ass got booted to the curb. Let's make one thing really fucking clear, OK? Lack of self control on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine, nor will it ever.
Grow up and seek some professional, psychiatric help. Seriously. You're just over a year older than I am, yet you've proven beyond any shadow of a doubt from anyone that has known you for any length of time that you act like a 3 year old and throw tantrums. And those don't even count compared to the tantrums you'd throw while forgetting that the caps lock key can be turned off.
There's a reason I haven't spoken to you for over 3 years, and I plan on keeping it that way as long as I see fit.
Scenario 3 - The Firstborn Harlot
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There's not really much else to say that I haven't already. Yeah, it happened 11 years ago, but it was enough to make me start scrutinizing everyone that I come in contact with. First woman I truly cared about, first person to really stab me in the back in that regard.
At the risk of sounding like some cold, sociopathic bastard, I'm glad you cheated on me, really I am. In return, you ignored my advice, got dumped by your "boyfriend" for another dude... and then a few years later, ended up contracting Hep C. I don't even need to explain why that's a fitting punishment. Honestly, I'm amazed that I didn't catch anything from you. 11 years later, and I still never believe anything you say. But according to you, I see everything in terms of black and white.
I only see a select few things in terms of black and white. Most everything, I see in shades of grey. That's how I manage to do some of the fucked up things that I've done and somehow still have a clear conscience. The real issue here is that you're projecting your half-baked idea that somehow I must be seeing everything in terms of black and white, because you don't want to take personal responsibility for your actions, and instead, find it easier to blame somebody else. That's why you haven't made it any further in life than where you're currently at now, and that's unlikely to change. That's not a "black and white" thing, that's called statistical probability. There is a difference.
Scenario 4 - 52 Pickup
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The only reason people begrudgingly hang around you is because later on, you give them something to laugh at later when they're feeling down. You're 24ish?, have 3 children that you have no way of taking care of, no job, never graduated high school, have an extensive list of arrests and court appearances, live with your mom (who gives you money to buy drugs), and have proven yourself a pathological liar instead of this self-proclaimed "werewolf vampire hybrid who's a master of all of the elements" (except for the ones on the periodic table and fire).
Speaking of fire, if memory serves me correctly, you burned half your face with camping oil trying to perform a "firebreathing trick". The only thing you've got any talent for is spewing bullshit from your mouth and "sword swallowing". Anyone with an ounce of common sense knows you don't use camping oil, you use high proof liquor. To burn your legs off. And then brag about it by saying that you did it because you were trying to commit suicide.
"The real tragedy," I thought to myself, "was that he didn't succeed."
Your attention whoring makes me look like an amateur, and that's pathetic. Really, it is. I'm not even joking when I say that terrible people like you should be burned at the stake, regardless of culture or place in time. The only thing cancerous parasites like you provide for anyone is a perfect example of what NOT to be.
F.O.A.D.
Scenario 5 - The Walrus And The Carpenter
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I grew up knowing you literally half of my life. When I came back, that changed. You were different. You had no motivation, no drive, and no soul. You can blame it on the medical issues, or the "fact" that "nobody's ever hiring", but let's face it, dude, you're only lying to yourself. You're not fooling me, or anyone else for that matter, save your wife, her sister, and your brother-in-law.
You're all horrible people, and I'm not the only one saying that. Your own family doesn't even like you, and I've heard them say this to your face and behind your back. What's even more fucked up is that your parents look at me as their adopted son. That's pretty messed up, even I have to admit. And this is coming from someone who's said and done a LOT of fucked up things.
To your wife and sister-in-law: The most likely reason why your mother suffered some kind of debilitating brain injury resulting in permanent amnesia is because even the biblical concept of God hates you. Your sister in law is an unmedicated bipolar schizoid who's too far gone to realize the reason her marriage fell apart is because she's literally that fucking crazy. You have no excuse. Help is available when your own mental disorders literally get in the way of keeping a job for any length of time greater than 6 months.
I've got chronic depression and PTSD, yet the shortest length of time I've held a job is just over a year. Other than when I found out I had porphyria, my longest stint of unemployment lasted exactly 3 1/2 hours. If I can suppress the urge to rip someone's face off, you can muster up the gumption to go out, get a job, and actually do something with your life instead of sitting at home play pokemon all day while fantasizing about prepubescent anime schoolgirls. It's no wonder your wife turned you down so much, she's not attracted to you at all anymore.
You're 33. Also, word of advice: Bathe. Daily. It's a matter of simple hygiene, not a fucking holocaust.
Scenario 6 - Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics.
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Had I known what you were planning from the start, I would have told you to follow your ex's advice and abort the child instead of suggesting that you carry it to term, and possibly adopt it if you didn't think you could handle the responsibility. You always complain that she's an inconvenience, while trying to simultaneously praise a child that you're admittedly completely incapable of raising. Not to mention the "father figure" that you want to be in her life is the same drug addicted pathological liar I mentioned earlier. I don't even make this shit up. Really, I don't.
In essence, the only thing you've done up to this point is praying while rowing towards the rocks. That's a level of psychological sophistication I haven't seen since the last time I watched Jerry Springer.
Then I found out your family is filled with a bunch of sociopathic, racist, homophobic fuckheads that think going to church, singing hymns, and putting money in an offering plate is going to save them from eternal damnation. I hate to break this to you, but I refuse to believe in a higher power that gives any kind of sympathy to pathetic insects like most of your relatives, no matter how financially well-to-do they happen to be.
The reason your mom stopped comparing me to your ex is because I told her I had no issues tapchecking her face off the dashboard while doing 75 down the highway. Her level of co-dependency and ability to tell lies has certainly rubbed off on you. I'm not even going to start in on your dad, because I don't think I would even know where to begin with that worthless excuse for a retard.
So let's put this into perspective. I was willing to help you raise a child in a stable, caring, non-toxic environment. A child that wasn't even biologically mine. Last I checked, most men aren't interested in that. You claimed I used you for sex, but honestly, if I wanted to use someone for sex, there are easier ways to do it, and I've proven just that. Last count, I've been with 38 women. I'm not bragging at all, because there are other males out there who have slept around even more. I'm bringing that number up to illustrate that it's relatively easy to get laid.
When it came to cheating on me with your ex, you repeatedly lied about it, yet was unaware that there other people that saw you two do what they saw you do. These were people with no motivation to lie, and only came to me out of legitimate concern, because they knew of his sexual history involving giving women he slept with something to remember him by. The fact you came back clean isn't the point. The point is that you slept with him and THEN LIED ABOUT IT. This is not a difficult concept, and if you have trouble understanding it, then clearly, you have some kind of mental or moral defect.
If it had been some other dude, I wouldn't have cared, because I would have either coerced both of you into a threeway, or I would have gone out and had sex with someone else, which the latter is exactly what I did. Is that really so hard to underfuckingstand?
The reason I fucked her AND that chick at the concert in the same day, in addition to having sex with you is so you'd get a taste of how it feels to be used and then carelessly tossed to the side. Depression doesn't cause someone to do what you did. That's a personal choice, regardless of what kind of excuse you decide to concoct. Two wrongs don't make a right, but it certainly got my point across. Yet I'm the piece of shit? Gotcha ;)
Before all that, however, I'd spent several months attempting to drink myself into oblivion. It wasn't a cry for help, it wasn't some kind of drastic measure. It was a personal choice that I willingly made, because at that point, it was the only thing I could find that would kill the pain that was eating me alive from the inside. 24+ pack a day for nearly 4 months straight. Realistically, I should have been dead from liver failure after the first two months.
The parallels are disturbing enough in that this time, a child was involved, and yet somehow, you saw no problem with this. People like you will eventually be punished for what they've done. The problems you're experiencing right now aren't even the tip of the iceberg if you don't stop digging, step the fuck up and redeem yourself by making mature, reasonable life decisions. Simply put, I refuse to enable you anymore, and unless you actually take the steps necessary to improve your life, your daughter will turn out to be just like her biological dad. Sadly enough, I want you to prove me wrong, but let's face it, that's probably never going to happen.
If by some miracle, your child doesn't grow up to be a complete walking psychological disaster, I'll genuinely be amazed. You'll still be a complete piece of primordial shit in my books, though. That, I can more than assure you of.
Scenario 7 - "I Can Has Chippies?"
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Before we even had sex, I told you I was uncomfortable with the 12 year age gap. You were 19 at the time, and you were of age, but it really weirded me out that you expressed an overt sexual interest in me. I also made it pretty clear that if we DID have sex, I was not looking for a relationship, nor would I be for quite some time. Your argument was that you could legally stick my dick in your mouth, and nobody could really say anything about it. That's when I said, "Fine, why not".
Admittedly, the sex wasn't bad at all. In fact, on the top 10 list of women I've had the most pleasurable sex with, you're #4. That doesn't change the fact you're batshit fucking insane, as I later found out.
Before I'd even broken up with my last ex, you kept pushing the wrong issues at the wrong time in attempt to get me to date you. I meant it when I said that I wasn't interested in anything beyond a cheap, easy lay. Things were cool, up until you decided to fuck my best friend to try and piss me off (which didn't work at all), and then tried to tell him that I raped you. I know what rape is. I've been through it when I was a child, and forcing myself on someone is an activity I refuse to engage in. It's bad news all around.
So first off, if anyone should have been claiming rape, it should have been me. Even when you were dating him, you were still all over my dick, and would even try to intervene when someone would express interest in sleeping with me. That's cool, though. Whatever. I'll just have sex with someone else when you're not there to stop it from happening.
Secondly, if a female expresses interest in fisting, I'm not opposed to it. I don't see it as something to be ashamed of, given my own list of weird sexual fetishes. But if I have sex with someone, I don't want to be elbow deep in every encounter I have with that person. It gets boring, and eventually my hands get tired. I enjoy variety.
Thirdly, when someone shows that they've turned their pussy into a revolving door of dick, I stop fucking them. That's just how I am. I have never gotten a venereal disease, and I plan on keeping it that way. If you want an STD by sleeping with 5 different males per week, that's fine, but I'm not interested in planting and cultivating a biological hazard on my own doorstep. Fuck. That.
Finally, when it comes to the accusation in question, I know you said it. My best friend has never lied to me in the great length of time that I've known him. The reason nobody believed you isn't because I'm some charming, charismatic individual with a silver tongue. The reason nobody believed you is because you've even accused your own dad of having raped you when there was no physical evidence backing up those claims, and the simple fact of the matter is, I didn't rape you.
In fact, I was in the kitchen eating a sandwich when you walked in, pulled my pants down, and started sucking my dick. Perhaps I'm a little old-fashioned, but I grew up in a time when a female willingly performs fellatio on a man, that's the same as consent. When I asked you what you were doing, you stopped, looked up and said, "It's okay, we broke up today."
I asked, "Are you sure?"
You didn't say anything, and instead, resumed blowing my cock like it was a golden rod encrusted with jewels. Turns out you hadn't actually broken up, and when you lied to him about what really happened, naturally, he was inclined to believe you were lying, because he knows me a lot better than he knows you, and knew you were lying the moment you opened your mouth and made that accusation. An accusation of rape isn't something you just haphazardly throw around like a frisbee. That's the kind of accusation that has the potential to completely destroy someone else's life permanently, even if it's not true.
I could go on much further, but the fact of the matter is, you've got two warrants out for your arrest now, despite the ability to believe your own lies to the contrary. I would just like to be there about 2 years from now when they decide to actively pursue your arrest. The only reason they're waiting is so that you'll spend some quality time cleaning the cell floor with your tongue. You'll realize that when you try to resist arrest and they nail you with a taser, put on handcuffs, and unceremoniously transport you back here to serve time issued for the warrants, and then spend more time after the DA follows through with the charges. I do have to admit though, reality distortion field rivals that of Steve Jobs and Eric Cartman.
Scenario 8 - I Don't Even.
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I've literally known you all of my life. I tried to help you in every way that I could. Instead of helping me when I needed it, you spread lies about me, made a litany of excuses, and accused me of being some kind of callous, uncaring demon. $375/month, including all utilities is not unreasonable. And it's not like you can't expect these things to somehow get back to me. I'm done with you. You've alienated nearly everyone around you in almost every way imaginable. I don't need to lie about this, because those who are involved in that statement have told you this themselves, and to your face. I know this because I've seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears on multiple occasions. Right now, I feel like you're dead to me, and yet, you're still alive. Maybe one day, you'll wake up and realize what you've done. I really hope you do.
Scenario 9 - False Pretenses
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I'm not saving the best for last. I'm saving this for last on the assumption that by now, most people have stopped reading this entry out of boredom, mental fatigue, or some other reason altogether. In fact, I really don't want to post this, because doing so will hurt me more than it will you. That isn't a guilt trip. I've never guilt tripped you, and I've been nothing less than honest with you. So here it is.
When I first met you, I wasn't really attracted to you at all. It wasn't because I believed you were ugly, in fact, quite the opposite was true. But simply because I find someone attractive doesn't mean that I will even find myself attracted TO them. In fact, I've passed up some pretty hot women in my time simply because I found them to be too intellectually shallow for my tastes. There was also the age gap thing, which admittedly, still bothers me, but not as much as it used to. But that's not really one of the points I'm going to focus on for any length of time beyond this paragraph.
Initially, I interacted with you because I noticed you were depressed, and going through a lot of unnecessary ridicule and heckling. As far as I know, when I intervened, that problem pretty much came to a grinding halt. From there, you were somebody I could talk to, and that was literally the extent of my interest. I literally had no idea that is was going to turn into what it did.
I gave you compliments, and not because I was attracted to you at all. I gave you compliments because I felt you could use a change of pace. Your self esteem was pretty low, and I saw an opportunity to make friends with someone, and maybe change their outlook on life to something a little bit more positive. That's what I do. I try to cheer people up and make them happy, because it unnerves me to see someone unhappy. Likewise, if I have reasonable cause to believe that someone is a bad person, I won't interact with them at all.
Eventually, you mentioned that you "adored" me. Honestly, that's something I hear a lot from people who know me. I chuckled about it a little, and thought it was kinda cute, but I was completely oblivious to what you were hinting at until you came out and said it. Honestly, I was kinda taken aback, and decided to just ignore it because most likely, I had to be misreading something somewhere. My level of skepticism regarding any kind of criticism or complement is simply that high as a direct result of my life experiences.
As time went on, it became apparent that I wasn't misreading things, as the statements became more overt, and eventually, sexual. Again, I get hit on a lot for some inexplicable reason, but I usually ignore it, because I assume it's some kind of joke.
Then the shit with my ex happened. I didn't know what to do, so I started drinking heavily again. I had nobody that I felt I could turn to. In fact, I remember the night that things changed. Maybe it was because I had been on a 20+ beer drinking binge, and was getting ready to crack open a bottle of vodka. Up until then, you'd never really asked me what was happening outside of the realm of an entirely platonic interaction, let alone with someone I'd never physically met, and probably never would otherwise.
Hazily, I seem to recall my response was something to the effect of, "I'm pretty fucking trashed right now. I'm not even sure if I can type coherently."
You asked me why, and I said it's probably nothing you want to hear about, because it's something I'm going to have to deal with by myself. Still, you pushed for an answer. When I explained what had happened, and that quite frankly, I was seriously contemplating the very real possibility of ending it because I was a psychological and emotional disaster at that point, I remember your response was calling her a bitch and the intense desire to cause her immediate physical harm.
I couldn't really tell anyone else, because I put on a mask of always being happy, and naturally, they would be inclined to think I was joking. Plus my ex and my mom were insistent on telling me every chance they had that everything that had happened was my fault. The fact that I was working 1 full time job, and 3 side gigs, totaling 60+ hours/week meant absolutely nothing to either of them. In my book, that's some really fucked up bullshit. My mom said, "Well, you just need to work harder."
Some mother that is. Fuck.
I couldn't really tell anyone at work, because I was looked at as the go-to person for sage advice, ego-lifters, and unbiased analysis. The only person that pieced together of what was going on in my personal life was my grandmother. She found out because she looked in the garage, and happened to notice a single case of beer that I had forgotten to hide.
Out of curiosity, she started nosing around and discovered 40 empty cases of beer. She asked me who had been drinking that much, and I admitted that I had gone through that in approximately a month. Her only response was a look of abject horror and she asked me, "How are you still alive? What's wrong? You realize if you're drinking that much on a daily basis, you should already be dead. Holy shit!"
Other than you, it seemed my grandmother was the only one that really even noticed that something was amiss, or even cared. I cut back on my drinking a lot, and started to try and find something to distract me. Nothing really worked, but it was pretty awesome having someone to talk to, that also encouraged me not to drink. Granted it's ultimately a personal choice, but that's not really what I'm getting at.
At this point in time was when I started realize I had feelings for you that ran deeper than just platonic. But you were approximately a 2 day drive from where I was, so I didn't really give it much thought.
Time went on, and eventually, one of my friends had his first karaoke gig at one of the local bars. I promised him I would show up, and I did just that. We gave each other brotherly hugs, I put in a request for a Foo Fighters song, and shortly thereafter, got up on stage and did one of many things that I do best: Sing.
Not even 30 seconds into the song, nearly every patron was either singing along, or staring in rapt, undivided attention. After I was done, the entire bar erupted into a standing ovation that was approximately 115 decibels. Not even 5 seconds after I'd gotten off the stage, I was already being showered with compliments, phone numbers, assgrabs by both men and women, kisses by smoldering hot chicks, and free drinks.
It still didn't matter to me, because I'm used to these kinds of things. Words can be said, but free drinks are something physically tangible. I did several other songs, each as skillfully impressive as the ones prior, all of different genres. Before I left that night, I realized that I had a grand total of 9 numbers handed to me on pieces of paper. One of the laides insisted that I crash at her place for the night, because she really wanted me to fuck her. Strangely, it didn't register, and I made some excuse about having to be up early anyways, and that I needed to get some sleep. I didn't actually have to work the next day, I was just really tired.
Nearby, someone called her name. It was the same as yours. It was then I realized that it wasn't even that I was tired. I just didn't feel any connection to that particular individual. Maybe it was the beer talking, but I realized that I wanted you more than anyone I've desired in quite some time. Yeah, it had to be all of the free alcohol talking, so I went to one of the restaurants and sobered up.
No, it wasn't the alcohol talking. Holy fucking shit. There are few things more strange than being flatfooted by your own brain, completely oblivious to some part of its inner working. That's when I came home, and when I saw you were online, I told you what I felt, but realized distance wouldn't make it a possibility in the forseeable future.
Fast forwarding a little bit, our conversations became much more serious as time progressed. I haven't really felt this way about anyone I've never physically met. In fact, I never felt this way before. This was different. Much different than anything that I'd experienced before. Even still, I knew how ridiculous the whole thing seemed. I'd been around, and most of the time, I'm more likely to have a bigger emotional investment in the food that I eat, because that's how I am.
Then it happened. Ex-roommate, broken knee, completely unsure of where I was going to go. A good friend of mine unexpectedly offered me a place to stay until I was able to fully recover. Cool. Turns out that it was going to put our distance much, much closer than it otherwise would have been. But that was not a factor in my decision of possibly moving in with one of my friends. The motivating factor for me was entirely financial. 8 months of no bills whatsoever. That was my motivating factor, but if a better option came up, I would take that instead.
My grandmother knew of my situation, and the distance to travel was only a 3 hour trip instead of several days.
That's when I noticed it. You started acting unusually distant and strange. Again, cool, whatever. Like I said, I can't say that I didn't see it coming. The fact that your action was a cover wasn't what bothered me. What bothered me was that I've seen this same pattern countless times, even when it's involving someone else. It starts with a white lie, and ends in disaster.
What bothered me even more was the sudden emotional distance after I decided to seize on a better financial opportunity, because it would allow me to build a better life for myself. I don't expect you to be celibate because of me. I know you weren't, and neither was I. However, I do expect some level of honesty, and if you're going to choose someone else, go for it. I'm never going to hold that against you. The only thing I ask in return is for you to be as honest with me as I am with you. Believe me, if I wanted to really be cruel, you'd know it.
Since I suspect you weren't even able to do that, it should be no mystery why I'm not even going to waste my time. One sentence doesn't destroy someone else's trust. That's the result of a poor internal coping mechanism. And if you're going to completely distance yourself from someone else because they're being completely honest, and you think they're just being mean, that's cool too. But that says a lot more about you than it does about me.
I don't consider myself old or young, but I consider myself wise enough to know when to fold a bad hand. Be thankful that I never lied to you.
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If you're still reading, cool. If not, well, you're not really missing much. In the future, I'll be using the "personal" section of this journal to describe various misadventures I've been through over the years. Most of these stories may seem to be statistically improbable, but they're the truth, whether you're inclined to believe it or not. Mainly, I'll be using this to get things off of my mind that are bothering me, and most likely, go back at a later date and probably think to myself, "Did I really post that?"
I don't know. Bleh.
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