Madam President, Queen of Snark (kellinator) wrote,
Madam President, Queen of Snark

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Latest bitch

(Confidential to J: None of this is aimed at you.)

I seem to be in a vortex, and not the one in Little Five Points where you can get burgers and beer. I'm deeply frustrated and irritated today. The good I try to do in my life goes seemingly unnoticed, while there's always someone who's eager to tell me exactly what I did wrong. Now I sound suspiciously like the email that put me in this chartreuse funk.

(Note to self: Chartreuse Funk would be a great name for a band.)

Since this is my journal, after all, I'll go ahead and say exactly what I'm talking about.

My damn online exploits led me to meet a guy oh, I'd say, in late September/early October. While this person appears to be very nice and polite, our senses of humor were a total mismatch. As in, the thought of years of his lame jokes made me want to stick myself in the eye with a fork. But trying to be fair, I went out with him a few times to see if we would click. He thought we did; I thought we didn't. Unfortunately, I only became honest with myself (and him) about this after we made out. Lousy fucking timing on my par for a moment of weaknesst. The damage was done. I thought we were going to try and be friends, but I must admit I didn't put a lot of time into emailing him (even less than I do for most people). What can I say, I wanted to spare his feelings, but some comments he had made kinda scared me. I believe I described it as "I've found the only person in metro Atlanta who's more desperate than I am." I could easily see him becoming, ahem, shall we say, obsessive. It seemed easiest to occasionally say hi, but mostly keep my distance.

I just got an email from this person which informed me that I am not a very nice person and I am playing him for a fool. I know I did stupid things in the heat of the moment, but I'm not happy to be characterized as a heartless bitch. But maybe I am a heartless bitch. The irony is, it was born of my desire to "be nice."

Maybe if I were more honest. Maybe if I had said, "You know, I'm sure you're a very nice guy, but your jokes are making me want to beat my head against the wall" in the first place, none of the unpleasantness would have happened.

Maybe the reason I can't find happiness is because I've caused so little of it. But at the same time, what am I supposed to do? Make other people happy by making myself miserable? I don't think so.

  • (no subject)

    You know you're getting old when "too drunk to fuck" becomes "too drunk to floss."

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