Sunday, February 26, 2017
Fuckboys, Social Anxiety, & Self Love (Another Tipsy Aftermath)
And judging by my last post, that would be because my life was finally rainbows & butterflies.
Yeah, not quite.
The alcohol that was in my system about an hour and a half ago is pretty much gone now, &, as I'm nodding off typing this, I'm wondering if I'll even remember to post it in the morning.
I essentially got stood up tonight.
His excuse was that he was "beat", & I let it slide by saying "It's cool" & discretely deleting his phone number.
Let's get one thing straight here: I barely know this guy.
I met him two nights ago, hung out at his house, & drank some weird sour salty beer while watching him do lines of coke & talk about his ex for 7 hours straight.
To be fair, he was a writer, we frequent the same little known bookstore, we hate the same foods, & listen to the same music.
You gotta take the good with the bad, I guess.
Why I got excited about the prospect of seeing him again, I'm still not entirely sure.
What I am sure of is, I got my hair done today, I shaved every inch of my body, & I had been feeling like a fucking goddess for the majority of the day.
I decided to go hang out at a bar by myself, under the guise that this guy, we'll call him Will, would be there within the hour.
Long story shy, I felt like shit the entire time I was in the bar.
Everyone had come with someone else, & there was a wedding party full of drunk girls who felt the need to constantly scream to one another even though there was no music playing & they were standing next to each other.
I decided to order a drink to loosen myself up, but it did fuckall.
I'm just not a social person, & I've known that about myself my entire life.
There were moments during the hour I spent in the bar, where I literally felt like I was going to puke.
I ended up sitting in my car laughing at memes on Instagram, which is when I texted Will to confirm he was, in fact, bailing without notice.
Anxiety is such a blast.
I've touched on the story in a previous post, but something similar happened to me a couple years back on my birthday, & I reacted by idiotically drunk driving myself home, then laying in my bed crying while eating a bag of cookies.
Sounds dramatic as shit, but I truly hated myself, & when I got the notion the guy did too, I felt myself disappear into worthlessness.
It's one of the worst feelings I've ever felt, & I'm sure most women my age have been there at least once or twice.
Tonight, I reacted by appreciating how good my hair looks & how smooth my skin feels, & the fact that Will didn't deserve to be near me.
On the drive home, I pondered the ideas of taking myself for a long drive & buying another vibrator when I got home.
Just to seal the deal.
However, I had to go home to pee & I spent the majority of my money at the gas station today.
That's cool too.
Now I'm laying in bed typing this up, listening to Biffy Clyro, &, wait for it...NOT FUCKING CRYING.
I could go for some cookies though.
I'm so good.
I'm educated, I have full time job, I wear deodorant, & I consider other people's feelings.
That's more than a lot of people can say.
I don't know if tonight's lesson was to not try so hard next time, or to appreciate the hard work I put in, but I'm going with the latter.
Anyway, my internet is shorting out so I guess I better wrap this up.
I'm lucky to have me.
And though it's super strange that at 25 years old no one else has had the pleasure of having me as well, I don't know what to say about it.
I'm completely sober now & fading pretty fast.
If you need me, I'll be growing my body hair back out & forgetting Will's real name.