Long overly dramatic story about unimportant events ahead. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
I've tried so hard not to let my weird and confusing emotions interfere with my social life, seeing as it wasn't all that impressive before. Sometimes I've felt like I can just turn them off and be a painfully normal human being again, waiting for someone to turn round and ask how the hell my face is doing such a good impression of a Cheshire Cat. Then sometimes, there are the people with whom I actually feel like I am okay.
One of those people, someone I hadn't actually realised was quite such a big part of my life at the moment, is having his 21st birthday party tonight. He rented out the VIP area of a club... while this is unfortunately the club I was taken from that night. But yeah... someone's also bought him a £200 bottle of spiced rum. I at least wanted to try that. Oh, and lots of the people I sometimes count as friends are there.
That didn't come out sounding quite as appealing as I thought it would.
Anyway, the point is, I should be there. And I'm not. I'm sat at the kitchen table in my empty flat, avoiding my bed, drinking way too much Lambrini, which, let's face it, tastes like it was filtered through a dirty sock, and resisting the urge to eat my third dinner. I've been like this for the last four days. It's... really not ideal.
I mean, I found you guys because of this, but hey, shiny silver linings.
All of this was because my friend asked me out for the third time on Tuesday. And now I'm scared. Of what? Not sure.
I really have no clue why this has had such a big impact on me. It did the last two times as well. The first time I was pretty certain it was coming, and felt massively tense and nervous about the whole situation. I wanted to stop it before it happened. I wanted him to put the words back into his mouth, the thoughts back into some kind of 'idea recycle bin' in his head, that perception of me into the 'friendfriendfriendzone'. He asked anyway. And I ran away from him, found an empty room, curled up and cried until someone found me and put me in a taxi. I don't remember much.
The second time was a few days later. We were both drunk. I thought I could make him understand. Instead, he started rambling about how he'd 'always dreamed of a girl who was flexible, with long hair and big tits'. It was so out of character for such a sweet, overly romantic guy that I froze up and didn't even respond. I should have screamed at him, but I didn't. I just left. Cried some more. Got in a taxi. ... I don't remember much.
Apparently neither of these reactions clued him in. At least it was four months later that he tried again. Four months of happiness. Four months of peace. Four months of me seeing everything beautiful in him, all the openness and the warmth and the caring behind that devil-may-care jokester. I felt... really happy. I'd convinced myself it was safe. All the horrible awkwardness, the irrational fear, the physical instinct to move away from his touch and freeze up at his hugs, they were all starting to become a memory. But there were a few warning signs. I ignored them. I thought I was being paranoid. I very often am.
Buuut I should have trusted my feelings, because he's so terrible at subtle that apparently me having breakdowns at his vague assertions of attraction completely slipped his notice. Or four months should have been 'long enough' to get over it or something. I don't know. Either way, as soon as I tell myself that I'm just being 'paranoid' when I feel uncomfortable about having lunch with him and spending the day together with my friend... he strikes. In public. In a town that's a 40 minute bus ride away from home. No running this time. "So... Tsu. I'm confused... do you have any feelings for me?"
And... just like that, I feel my head start to float, just like it did back in January, when I spent a long snowy afternoon just walking and walking until I bled through the heels of my boots, without noticing. There's a vague voice in my head going, "No no no noooo..." but after a long pause, I hear myself say calmly, "I think we had this conversation, Dan..."
God, why couldn't he leave it at that? But he didn't... He tried to convince me. Every reason he'd thought I had feelings for him. Every reason he thought I should have feelings for him. "But... I can't." Why couldn't I? "I'm scared. I can't. I just can't." But fear's just a barrier you have to push through to do anything worthwhile. "I can't!" Everyone's scared going into a new relationship. "It's not that!"
I couldn't explain. But then he started trying to 'fix' me again, convinced that being my boyfriend would make me feel better and that he knew better than me because I've never had a relationship, and I knew I had to end this. I had to. Because otherwise I was going to lose it. "You're trying to make me want something, just because you want it. That's... not okay."
I'm so glad I said that. I don't feel like it was me, it was that calm, collected voice that takes over when I feel like that, but it had a damn good point, and he knew it too. He walked me to the bus... he tried to kiss me. I said no, outright, calm, controlled. I got on the bus.
... emotion ensued.
I'm proud of myself for how I reacted at the time, but I don't really understand how I've felt ever since. Or at least... I didn't, till I thought about the situation. I'm already uncomfortable with people truly valuing me. Some deeply-rooted self-esteem issue that came from... I have no idea. I hate hurting people. I hate letting people down. Especially when they don't deserve it. I hate people having bad opinions of me. And there was nothing to do in that situation that could make Dan happy, without making me terrified.
There's also the things I found myself saying. "I can't." "I'm scared." "Don't make me." Oh he was desperate and begging and pleading and terrifyingly intense, but at heart, he was trying to persuade me into something intimate that I was afraid of. I don't think... I need to say any more than that. And while it's better that he wants me purely for me instead of as a meat sack, and in a way, I should be flattered... (he actually offered an abstinent relationship... I was frightened and creeped out - it made it real, it meant he'd been thinking about it) ... it still was not an ideal situation, when my head was already like that. He didn't even know what he was doing to me. The same as my rapist. I'm just so glad I had the courage to say no this time.
I have a lot of mixed feelings about this, it seems... I was looking forward to his party, but it turns out I'm too scared and angry to want to be near him. Partly for me, but mostly so I don't ruin his party. Again, not really putting myself first...
It was a friendship I valued so much, and now I think it's lost. And not by him either, tactless, arrogant and creepily desperate as he was... but by my head. By this nameless pointless fear of something I don't believe he could ever do. Or at least, I hope he'd never, ever do it, or even think of it. I have more trouble persuading myself that now. Which is horrible. Because god, I appreciated his company. God, I loved him. But I'm too terrified and confused and paranoid to know what that love was without feeling suffocated. I wasn't lying - I can't do that. But I also can't do that to him.
So... sitting here... finished the Lambrini now. Finished the story. Maybe. I don't even want to edit this... this is thoughts, in their purest form. Maybe tomorrow, when I feel more level-headed, this will all look like paranoia again. Or maybe it'll help me make some kind of decision.
At least it's a memory.