Remember that one time when I said I wanted to try and stop running away and how even though I knew it would end, I wanted to just let it be and enjoy the present?
Yeah, I’m a fucking idiot. Don’t do that. Trust your gut. When you know it’s a train wreck waiting to happen, get the fuck out. You can’t fix it. You can’t wait it out. You can’t do anything except jump out in front of it, let it hit you, then get the fuck up and sprint in the opposite direction.
Sleeves is an asshole. This is simply an unfortunate truth. He’s a douchey guy. I knew it from the beginning and had I been paying better attention, I would’ve realized that no matter what we may have been through, he is still a douchey guy. It’s just his nature.
Actually, that’s not true. He’s not a douche, he just lacks the emotional intelligence required to be real unless he’s shitfaced wasted and I fucked up. I am not the victim. This is entirely my fault. I ignored inconvenient truths and granted myself permission to believe the words that came out of his mouth after alcohol went in.
I am an idiot.
Two nights before his weekend in PDX, he sent one of the most insensitive and offensive text messages I’ve ever received, which is saying something considering the amount of dick pics I receive on a regular basis. I won’t repeat it only because it’s embarrassing, but it is sufficient to say, he crossed a line. Not only that, but he reiterated, with actual words, from his mouth, while I was lying naked in his bed, after having marginal sex, and giving what’s been described as “the only blowjob I’ll ever crave until the day I die.” Not by him of course, that’s way too much praise. Don’t tell her you like her, remember? Wait two weeks.
I should have just gone home. That’s what he deserved; I knew it, he knew it, but I stayed. That fucking bed gets me every time. I awoke at six o’clock in the morning, panicked, like I didn’t belong. Like I was intruding. Like I’d done something wrong simply by being there; pretty much the way I always feel with him in the morning.
I think I knew then. You don’t say shit like that when you care about a person. Not like that, anyway. Of course, he followed up with the requisite apology and of course I apologized for being over sensitive blah, blah, blah, but I knew. I’m not sure if I could’ve come back from that and even if I could, he wasn’t in it enough to try. He’s not in anything enough to try.
Fast forward a few days, we’re sitting on his deck. It’s just the three of us, Sleeves, his ego, and yours truly. I love these talks. You may recall a similar conversation a couple of months ago, that one time I wanted to put pens in my eyes? Yep, we’re doing it again.
Hold on, I’m going to need a drink…