Afraid to start/don’t know how to stop

That pretty much encompasses it.

This past weekend I wanted to write, it was one of few summer weekends not in some way tarnished by the “family time” demands of my husband’s family. Last weekend it was dictated to come up north (2 hour drive, one way, so we spent 4 hours in the car for 3 hours of PRECIOUS family time) because my husband had to work this weekend. I don’t like his new job, I can tell he doesn’t really as well…but…well, I’ve said it before, but somehow I managed to work a job that made me hate life for 11 years (retail…first as a cashier, then as management) AND I was in college for most of that (well 8 of those 11 years). But, I feel like if he can start making sales and actually making good $, it’ll be more gratifying for him. Every instinct, thought and impulse my husband has ever had about anything is to in some way gratify or indulge himself. I’m not talking sexually, though obviously getting off is one of the ways.

But, I ruined my family-less weekend. I didn’t mean to. I did anyway, but truly I had good intentions. We live in a nice neighborhood. There’s 0 crime, there’s a school very nearby so the police presence is strong (my husband was HASSLED by a cop once for walking to a gas station at 3am…which he was wearing his shitty old Carhartt and wool hat…so….homeless profiling?) and the houses are all occupied and kept up. But they’re all pretty small, very few two-stories, and they’re set remarkably close together. It reminds me of my parents’ house so it’s not strange to me. But the neighbors on one side (strangely) invited us to a bonfire last Saturday, after living next to us for over a year without a word. Of course my husband tried on two separate occasions last summer to have them over, they declined both time so naturally I’d told him he should stop before it gets weird. But, lo and behold, I was way wrong. I’d say there were probably like 1-2 dozen people there at one point. It was fun, being with a group of people that WASN’T work people or my husband’s family. I cannot tell you the last time I did that. Wait. It was November.

And I’m really hoping I didn’t do last Saturday what I did to group of people from November. Actually I’m not sure what I did to November group but I have a ROUGH idea I kept saying shit I shouldn’t have. I tend to…do that…when shit-faced. Like sometimes I wish I’d just try to fight people or come on sexually to anyone near me…but NO, I have to just like…obsessively mention something I’d rather die than bring up in a regular situation. So, long story short, I had 8 beers on Saturday (I BYOB-ed, so at least I wasn’t being tacky and annihilating their booze supply) and now I’m worried the neighbors will never hang out with us again. Which..I mean being me, I could give two shits, but I know this matters to my husband, so I feel bad.

Because I’m well aware that anywhere from 10-100% of the reason our last swinging couple stopped communicating could have been the DEEEEEEEEP level of drunkenness I achieved around them both times we…”hung out.” The first time we barhopped in our state’s edgiest downtown and stayed at an expensive-ass Holiday Inn downtown (CHOICE breakfast though), the second time we stayed the nigh at his family cabin. Yeah it’s kind of sad to offend cabin-guy, but I hated his dick so the hot tub on a deck looking over a lake didn’t even make up for it. R was unemployed and almost 30 and living with his dad, but boy did he have a nice dick. But that’s just really not enough. Despite what’s been ingrained into us, amazing sex (which, let’s face it, it was amazing 50% of the time. Half. That’s A LOT of wasted time and money on my end) does NOT change your life. Like, let’s get real here…it doesn’t really matter. If having the best sex imaginable/as much as you want/etc. if THAT’S your goal….I think you should think about something…if you look at the different ages the sexes hit their sexual peak during….it should explain how cruel life was meant to be. When do men ‘peak’ so to speak? As teenagers. When a lot of them aren’t getting any, or if they are it’s not regular, or even if it’s regular the likelihood one or both partners is inexperienced is great. When do women? In their 30s. You know when most of them are saddled with husbands and children and either the stigma-shame of being stay at home or the impossible task of juggling home like there’s no work and work like there’s no home. GREAT time for that to happen, too. See – The Awakening (Kate Chopin is supposed to get you wet, just go with it). See also – The End of the Affair (Graham Greene will always be one of my literary boos).

Don’t worry, it’s not like I feel like I have an edge over anyone. I’m probably at a disadvantage because of all of the emotional abuse. It’s no great thing, having always seen life as a fucking sick joke. But at least I know it’s pointless. That’s the first step in being amused by it. Which is the goal. See – Tropic of Cancer. At least I think. I’ll know when I get there. I think.

But I’d say I’m certainly not ‘there’ yet. Because I still care. I still might change my mind about not wanting kids. I might get over my biggest obstacle, the one I never talk about because it just makes people uncomfortable. My husband would just reassure my otherwise, in that blanketing way people do when they don’t even know the situation well enough to weigh in. But honestly, I think I’d be a bad mom. And I’m not talking taking-on-responsibility-wise. I mean I know I don’t know what it feels like to be pregnant and give birth then have this insane new role in your life. But I honestly know I could handle that. Just like when people asked me if i knew what I was doing, enrolling in graduate school full time while planning on working full time as well (as if there was some sort of other choice I had). But no, it’s the idea that the new stress and change that would come about from a child…it’d turn me into a gross amalgamation of my parents’ individually hideous parenting techniques. I mean, as I’ve said, bless her heart my mother did try. She just…ugh I don’t know, she kind of shares a hefty portion of the ruined-my-childhood blame, but for a sad reason. She talked to me about her problems, because she didn’t have anyone else. We were really close when I was a kid, I had NOTHING to do with my dad. But, your kids should’t be SO in-tuned to the adult problems their parents have, particularly ones that make their mother emotional/depressed. That’s another thing. I was watching The Mindy Project, of all things, and I was admiring how, as a character, Mindy never falls into a deep, depressive slump that lasts for weeks and weeks. As an adult, I find myself wishing my brain didn’t think that was an option. It’s not that she was that depressed, it’s that she taught me it was okay/all right/fine/sure to feel THAT low. That and I saw a quote from Kate Winslet once, I won’t bother looking it up, but it was along the lines that she was always very careful not to say anything self-deprecating around her daughter, because she’s teaching her how women ought to view themselves. And the level of self-deprecation that CONSTANTLY poured out of my mom and my grandma’s mouths…OMG I cannot explain. It’s like my Grandma thought if you weren’t constantly talking shit about yourself, you were a “high” person (that’s what she would call them). It was not good to be thought of this way by her. Though, she was the queen of passive resistance, so she wasn’t exactly going to tell anyone what she thought. Except her family. OH BOY did we hear it.

But even know, even talking about her emotional-ish abuse…it makes me miss her. I remember the blue ice cube tray in her dresser drawer, holding her sundry and colorful earrings and pins. I’m high enough on this DANK lemon haze, I can truly remember how perfectly clean and perfect and quiet and warm her apartment was. You’ll grow up to realize what you want more than anything is a place that doesn’t exist anymore. And if you can’t have what you REALLY want, isn’t the rest of life just a compromise away from fulfilling? Isn’t that what it’s always going to be? Wake me when my emotional misery stops, I tend to nod off.

See, things like the above paragraph still make me cry to write them. I still want people to like me and to have friends I spend time with. But…shit….I like have this “on” version of myself that I use alcohol to trot out for social occasions. I CAN do it sober, but if I can drink I’m going to. But I do it with work friend on our Friday lunches. The goal is to be as impersonal as possible, while giving the illusion otherwise, and to make the other person laugh as much as possible. Invest as little as possible emotionally….and always just be that fun, funny friend.

I guess that’s who I always wanted to be. But it’s a few shades of pathetic when someone has to try at that. But for me, if I can at least trick people into thinking I’m normal…well that’s a start. I mean I feel like you, reader, know that I am far from that.

And now I’m worried I…uh….kind of….ruined another couple relationship with my drinking…problem? It just seems so wrong to call it that…but…then again….

Like…it was no one thing…but…ugh. Trying to make friends is hard. I’m going to be feel bad if I ruin this, because we’re going to be neighbors with these people for another year at least…so if they’re like ew no to this drunk mess….yeah…..

Okay…here’s hoping something good materializes there.

No, we’re not trying to have sex with these two. I feel like the odds of THAT situation turning out well…are so slim. But it would be awesome to have people to sometimes hang out with. And when you’re married another couple is ideal.

But, they were having a going away party, right? It was because the pair are leaving like today or tomorrow for Portugal and Spain. Then the guy has to come back for work, but his gf’s sister is flying in to meet her and that pair is going on to pretty much the rest of Europe for SEVEN weeks.

Could you imagine! I mean that’s insanely awesome. But like…I don’t think I’m taking one vacation this year. My huge splurge for the year was my permanent eyeliner. Quite pleased I did that…but my point remains that I now feel poor and underprivileged. I didn’t say that though, I didn’t get THAT drunk. But I mentioned how there’s a motorcycle club nearby that has the SS lightning bolts painted on the side of their building. And they didn’t get why that was bad. I was like…oh shit now I have to drunkenly explain Nazi-related thing to an all-Jewish crowd. Because we were the only Gentiles there, I’m almost positive. I didn’t know until someone told me and was like we’re all Jewish, we’ve all gone to Israel for ten days as birthright. I was like that sounds awesome. They all went to Jewish camp together as kids. It sounds awesome. I’ve always been fascinated by closely knit communities, and jealous. There certainly was one going on at my Lutheran schools, but we weren’t really a part of it. I think it’s why I loved the mafia so much as a adolescent. I was jealous of that kind of sense of family.

So, with neighbors gone on vacation for the next long while….it’ll be a minute before I find out if one/both of them is like “yeah no thanks” towards me. I’ve had so many people have that exact attitude towards me….it’s almost expected. But everyone I know who was that kind of shitty to me was like a rotten person to the core, so I guess that says something. But, I don’t blame anyone for being like “Ugh, no to this girl.” when I’m drunk…so I guess I’m hoping they give it a second shot, and I’ll have to be careful not a blow it this time…with my rampant social anxiety driven drinking. Or maybe I’m obsessing over a not real problem. Maybe we’ll never know! That happens, sometimes.


I’m out



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