I am a work in progress (no shit, right?)–I hold a deep and abiding belief in non-perfection. I do strive to be the best me that I can be– and even if it doesn’t match someone else’s ideal, if it’s MY personal best, then so be it. I’m never going to be perfect because it’s an ideal, like beauty, that is in constant flux–and really depends on who is doing the judging.
So when I fall off the edge of my own forward progression I get mad at myself.
Or to put in the terms of the local vernacular? Sometimes I fall back into bad ways of thinking that have nothing to do with the reality of what is going on.
Do you have any idea what I’m blathering on about? Yeah…it’s all vague because frankly? I’m embarrassed at myself.
I have worked SO hard (under His tutelage) to NOT jump to conclusions when things between us go awry.
Or do so from my point of view.
Case in point.
I had a job near to where He lives. I’d hoped that we could hook up. But it didn’t happen. I can’t go into specifics as to the why as He is intensely private, but there was just no way He could meet me.
I told Him on the phone that it was okay, that I understood.
And I did.
But that didn’t stop my heart from breaking a little bit…it’s been 4 weeks since our last face-t0-face. I miss Him SO much.
And it was, I’m ashamed to say, all downhill from there. After we hung up, I pouted. And okay, I cried a little bit. And I got mad, too. All over the course of a 45 minute drive home.
And the thing was..I meant it when I said to Him that I understood. I did. But…it just didn’t stop me from spiraling down.
By 1130 that night I’d gone through mad, through resignation, and into a sad little pity party.
if he really cared about me he would have found a way.
if he really cared==he would have invited me to his house, since he couldn’t get away…
if he really…
Yeah. That was it. Right there. He never extended an invitation to His place. He could have. So obviously– he doesn’t really want me and only feels an obligation to be with me every few months. Because I’m needy. Because sometimes I have to nag him to agree on a playdate. Because obviously he’s just placating me.
(shush. I see you sitting there with your mouth about ready to say ‘oh nilla–geeze woman! What the fuck is up with you to feel that un-confident that he wants to be with you. You know He does..he’s told you so himself.)
(See? I told you this was embarrassing. And see Jz? you’re not the only one who can zig and zag down this path to mental craziness…!)
So I texted Him…appropriately worded, respectfully inquiring. Asking why He didn’t consider inviting me, and apologizing for my forwardness. And saying that I wasn’t saying that if He ever invited me I wasn’t going to be expecting it to be a sex date, just time to be together.
And guess what?
He texted me back shortly afterwards.
It had never occurred to him to invite me (men!)…and he was well aware of my time constraints. And of course I could come to him, to his house. Silly slut.
I wasted an entire afternoon being upset–for no reason.
And that really annoyed me.
Sometimes I’m just that emo, I guess. I’m glad he doesn’t mind that about me…at least if it doesn’t happen often (and it doesn’t!). This being a grown up thing is really wicked hard sometimes! And obviously–sometimes I’m not very grown up about where my head goes! And we’re good, Master and I. And my overactive imagination has been locked up in my mental dungeon and is currently getting a good whipping…