Wanker!

“I tried too hard and she tore my feelings like I had none, and ripped them away…”

Contrary to the title, this has nothing to do with getting yourself off.  Sorry folks, but even I don’t have the balls to touch that one.  Yet.  Next month probably.  No, this is about a certain idiot, part three. 

So I had my woosaaa moment last month, said goodbye to disappearing dude with dignity and grace and all that nonsense and I felt much better.  Problem is, now I’m pissed.  I’m talking physical violence pissed!  I have a good mind to track his punk ass down and beat the shit out of him!  Pissed!  Now I’m guessing by now you’ve realised that I’m not perfect, not by a long shot.  I have a notoriously short fuse, I swear like a sailor, I have not too many morals left in my cynical being, and I occasionally don’t oil my legs, just because.  I’m flawed, and slightly very fucked up, so I try to fix what I can and what I can’t I try to make my peace with.  That said, I do not deserve to be treated like crap.  And that fucker treated me like CRAP!  And I’m finally pissed off.  Today I plan on tearing him, and all other like minded individuals, a new one.  Fond farewell my ass…

Aaaaahhhh............  That felt good.   

I’ve been seething for the last four months now, something had to give.  Apologies for the coarse language, sometimes you have to get the bile out otherwise it starts to eat at you, continuously twisting your insides until you’re scared to breathe, just in case the wrong thing gets out.  Only, the longer you try to hold it in the worse it gets.  It’s time to let it out.  Remember how I said that there was a little anger, just a little?  Turns out I may have been off the mark a wee bit.  Don’t worry, I’m alone today (my friend John is off visiting), it won’t degenerate into name calling and such like drama.  Or not, who knows?  Today’s soundtrack is the always uplifting Puddle of Mudd, theme song to anyone who’s ever been fucked over.  Slight detour, if reggae is my happy music, then rock is my angry music, consider yourself warned.  Let’s proceed…

I don’t get it.  Why do men find it so hard to say no?  Why a man would rather treat a woman like shit, be mean and rude, just generally obnoxious, when it would actually be easier to tell her to bugger off?  You don’t have to tell her that you think that she smells funny and you really can’t stand the thought of shagging her ever again, blunt honesty like that often does more harm than good, unfortunately.  Just give her the tried and tested ‘you deserve better’ line and send her packing.  Although, given women’s propensity for drama, you might be better off telling her you’ve met someone else, shitty yes, but more effective at keeping her away.

Now I know a little something about break ups, I’ve had a couple in the past, ranging from the ‘I’ve met someone’ speech (note, he didn’t say someone ELSE, yaani I was just a random chickie not his mama, and this was after 2 years with the man…) to the ‘the feelings are gone’ shrug, but the worst break up has to be the ‘fade to black’.  You know when a guy just slowly vanishes from your life over the course of weeks, months even, that’s the ‘fade to black’, a.k.a. the slow fade, a.k.a. the peter out.  That saga pisses me off to no end.  How spineless do you have to be to not have the balls to come up with a half decent lie?  Good god man!  Listen, I treated you well, yes?  I respected you, gave you your space when you needed it, shagged you when you wanted, I probably even made you chicken soup in my foolishness.  Even with my (infrequent) CSW behaviour and what not, I am, by all accounts, a good woman, good company and shit.  And perhaps mildy delusional, but that’s beside the point.  Surely, surely I say unto you, surely I deserve better than…  Nothing?  Really?  Not even an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ (lying) speech?  What is this world coming to?!

See, the worst part of the fade is that you, the fade-ee, don’t see it at first, or you see it but you refuse to accept it.  You’re too busy being the loving, supportive idiot who ‘understands’, you rationalise malicious behaviour, you make excuses for stupidity, you overcompensate for shortcomings that are not your own.  At the end of the day, it doesn’t make one iota of a difference, your ass is still being dumped, or dumped on.  The fade-er generally doesn’t give two shits about your pathetic ass!  Lakini, the way I’m bitching you’d think I’ve never done it myself, but I have.  Actually my technique isn’t so much a ‘fade to black’, it’s more ‘Kenya Power (no longer lighting) blackout’, no warning, seemingly no good reason, just a quick poof! and I’m off like a rocket.  Is that worse than the fade?  Surely not.  It’s better to vanish at once than to ride off into the sunset on a geriatric horse.  I say, better short and sweet rather than long and drawn out, no?  No?  Oops.  I guess I might be needing to send an apology or two when I'm done here. 

Ah hell…

I’m being harsh on the idiot, on all you idiots out there.  Truth is, I get the fade.  I know what it’s like when you really don’t want to have the conversation with someone and you’ll do anything to avoid it, up to and including faking a permanent move to another continent, but some conversations just need to be had, don’t they?  Sometimes you have to man up and take responsibility for your actions, or inaction, and yes, ladies this applies to us too.  Breaking up with someone is unpleasant, it’s awkward and uncomfortable, just plain not nice.  But if you ever felt so much as an ounce of genuine affection for them then you owe them the courtesy, and the kindness, of an ending, a real ending, good or bad.  Grow a pair and do the right thing.  It may be unpleasant for you, but that’s someone else’s life you’re fucking with, if you do nothing else you must do this one thing right.  If you don’t, then you’re just another spineless little shit, and do we really need more of those?  Stop nodding. 

While we’re busy getting wrapped up in our guilty feelings, regrets and/or disgust, moaning about how hard it is to break up with someone, and then dithering for ages hoping they’ll get the hint and move on, while all this is going on, we forget that it’s this shitty ending that the other person will remember, forever.  To this day, when I think of my ill-fated relationship with Mr 'the feelings are gone', I remember his fade, the (not so mild) cruelty with which he treated me has made it such that even now, many years later, I’m still guarded around him, when the cut is that deep you never truly heal, and this is a man who is one of my closest friends to date.  He knows how I feel about it, I know he doesn’t like it, but he has the good sense not to question it, or try to change it, it’s just the way things worked out, life’s a bitch and what not. 

Why am I sitting here ranting about break-ups?  It’s simple, I have no intention of carrying shit around any more, it’s a new year and all that claptrap, so this story with disappearing dude dies here, now.  Again.  He’s been on my mind for the last couple of days, the questionnaire got me thinking about the last men I dated, or tried to.  Now in as much as the questionnaire was just a bit of a laugh, to a certain extent that’s a typical example of my thought process when I’m vetting a man, I’ll look at the different sides to the man, analyse and shit, try and weed out the crazies, unsuccessfully if recent disasters are anything to go by, and Mr D I analysed at length, partly because I was ambivalent at the beginning.  Would you believe he talked me round?  Maybe that’s why I acted like such an idiot, she said optimistically, trying to salvage what little is left of her tattered reputation.  No joy?  Ah well…  Looking back, months later, I’m wondering why I didn’t just listen to my instincts like I usually do, or try to.  If I had, I would have never gotten involved with the man.  No, that’s not right, I’d never have gotten (not quite) romantically involved with him, I’d have left it at ‘just friends’.  Unfortunately, being friends with the man is not an option right now, his shitty behaviour pretty much made sure of that.  Pity, he really was one of the smartest men I have ever met.  Who’d have thought he’d turn out to be such a silly wanker, no?

I wrote this on Sunday and I’m guessing it goes without saying that I was not my normal happy clappy self (am I ever?).  However, having had a couple of days to calm down, I’m proud to report that I no longer feel the need to slap someone.  I considered not putting this up, seeing as how it shows a slightly uglier side to me, slightly, and of course there’s the (not) very remote chance that it will come back to bite me on the ass, she said oblivious to the axe hanging precariously over her head.  Thing is, I think this discussion needs to be had.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that perhaps I’m not the only one who’s felt hard done by in the past.  Perhaps. 

So this is what I propose, instead of the usual comments on how tragically comic my life is, how about you tell me your stories?  Vent, spit, rage, curse, ruminate, whatever rocks your boat, you can even post anonymously if you’re shy, no worries.  Woiyee please?  I don’t want to be the only one in here all exposed and shit...