I want to be an alcoholic.

I've been wondering for awhile what I want to do with my life, and I've decided it. I want to be an alcoholic.

Most things in life are just a little bit better when viewed through the bottom of a glass - or four - and well, it's good. Booze is good. Being tipsy/drunk is good. Feeling no pain is good. Meeting random strangers on the bus and having them tell you they love you is good.

I see no flaws in this plan. If you're looking for me, I'll be at the bottom of another glass.

Man, could I sound any more pathetic right now? Basically, in short... I don't think I drink enough. I gotta stop looking down on those who do - if for no other reason than because I currently wholeheartedly support the idea of the drinking!

I just think there needs to be fewer hangover consequences. Not that that's usually an issue for me, though.

Right now, I believe that nothing will come of the email I sent. Rationally, I knew that all along. Regardless, I had to send it. I know there are reasons for what happened that I will never learn, and that really sucks. However, that's the nature of guys -- they never like to tell you everything. That's what happened with J and I, and that's what's happened here.

For that, men are assholes.

Granted, I'm not perfect. I haven't always been 100% honest when I've been the one to end things, but at least I don't use vague asstastic reasons like, "We didn't speak much one night and so that led me to thinking about how that's a bad thing in a couple" and "it's just not as much fun as it used to be" -- especially not after driving out to see a boy for 2 hours in the morning, and telling him he's perfect and that he was everything I wanted AND SO ON.

So I sent the email and explained how the pill that I've been on has fucked up my mental chemistry and my friends have commented on it and how I haven't been myself the last while. I explained to you how things were due to change because I had a new prescription and I was going to be starting it yesterday, or a week from now. I explained all of that, but you just don't care. You won't respond, and part of me thinks that's the assiest thing yet. You made up your mind and now things are over, and I just have to deal with that -- as PF said, I have to cry, talk to my friends, and move on.

Well, I'm good at moving on. I've done it *a lot* in the last umpteen years of dating. I've done it every time something that was good and had meaning to me has ended. Sometimes I cared more than others. This time around, it's once again comparable to the way things were with J; a vague, crap-ass reason for ending things that I'm just supposed to accept, that I can't fight, that I can't debate... but at least he talked to me about it. You, well, I haven't heard from you since you left my doorstep after five minutes of conversation with a bunch of (insincere (here's a sign I'm drunkish, I had to ask how to spell that)) "I'm sorrys" and so long! person who's been a part of my life for the last few months.

Maybe later I'll feel foolish that I opened up to you and felt so comfortable with you and let down most of my guards with you. Maybe later I'll be upset that once again, things have ended and it wasn't my choice and I thought things could've probably continued. Maybe later I'll be hurt and I'll bawl my eyes out and I'll rant and rage against men and swear off them again and decide again on lesbianism or something other half-hearted swearing, like celibacy.

But for now... for now I'm just tired. I'm tired of being here, I'm tired of feeling hurt, I'm tired of crying over someone that doesn't appreciate me the way my friends feel I deserve to be appreciated. So for decent stretches of time right now, I don't much care. Sure, I asked you to reconsider in my email, to look at things again in light of new facts, but I knew, I knew rationally, I knew logically, I knew in my brain and my heart and those other parts of me that supposedly think, that it wasn't going to happen. If PF was so intent on telling me not to bother, on asking me what my point was to all of this, on telling me to move on and not expect a response, and etc., etc., I knew it was fruitless. I know that when a couple breaks up, they usually don't get back together again. I've had it happen in my past, I've seen it in the relationships of others.

See, I've dated a fair bit. Not enough to be promiscuous; one night stands were never my goal. My elusive holy grail has always been -- at least once I got older and realized that dating isn't nearly what I thought it would be -- the relationship. The match with someone well-suited to me. The partnership, the sharing of interests, the introducing one another to new things, the sharing of experiences and so on.

I thought you and I had that, I really did. My friends all liked you, they all thought we were well-suited, they commented on how happy I was, after so long of being just content (or unhappy; they never really spelled it out). They suffered through long bouts of me expousing your good points, what you said, what we last did, and so on. They were happy for me - I was happy for me. I'd found someone I really clicked with after such a long period of trying to fit a size 12 ass into a size 10 pair of jeans. It might work, but it's never going to be really pretty, or comfortable.

If I sound really upset during all of this, if you think I'm crying right now, you're mistaken. I did cry, last night. I cried more than I would've liked, and I had a few close calls today, but I held on. See, I hate crying, and I hate crying over something fruitless. Sure, crying never solves anything, but in a situation like this, it's going to solve even less.

Instead, knowing how I work, what's going to happen is I'm going to build up some kind of frustration and I'm going to wind up focusing on all of your distasteful points, and I'm going to dislike you. I'm not going to hate you, because I don't really hate anyone in my past, or at least no one comes to mind. No, I'm just going to move on and you'll become yet another part of my past relationships that suck. I'd like to say that I'll forget you, but honestly, there's no one in my past that I've dated for any length of time that I've actively forgotten. No, my brain isn't that kind to me. I'll remember you with positive thoughts, I'm sure, but for now... for now I'm just kinda mad at you, when I'm not feeling sad and impotent about the whole thing.

Then again, maybe this is all just drunken rambling. I'm good at that -- ask Big A.

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