Paybacks Are Hell. in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Eh. Nothing to say lately. Well, nothing that doesn’t come out sounding simple, petty and trite. I don’t know what’s going on with me these days. Just not really into anything. Wanting to settle down just a little bit, I guess. Slow down. Detox. Again. Always trying to find that balance by swinging the pendulum one way and then allllll the way back the other. You’d think I’d learn by now.

I’m being paid back for being such a slut last month with a couple of lovely “female issues”. Simultaneously. Nice. Nothing sexually transmitted, mind you. A safe time was had by all. But I still feel like my issues are a strange kind of sexual karma coming back to bite me in the ass. I’m cramping and in all kinds of discomfort. Oh it’s too yucky to even get into. I’ll spare you the gore. Just know that I’m feeling really, REALLY ick right now.

And the relationship gods remain unsmiling in my world. I suppose it’s because I sort of strung Mr. Unmentionable along. Super T is out even though I made an effort to rekindle. I’ll be in Dallas over the weekend, and he hasn’t responded to my e-mail or even my last phone call. Canuk has blown me off completely by way of his last e-mail. I sent him one first, announcing that I’d be in NY next week. His reply, “I don’t know what my schedule looks like…”

Why do I even try? I don’t deserve to be in a relationship right now. That’s all there is to it. I suppose I’ve done the crime, and now I’m doing the time. Fine. I’m sick of looking/feeling desperate anyway. It’s embarrassing. It seems like all I have to write in my diary are humiliating stories of being blown off or taken advantage of.

Let’s add insult to injury, shall we? Why not. I’ve already opened this can.

I suppose it’s because I couldn’t get any attention from my current (or fairly recently departed) interests, that I had to go and reopen old wounds. Yep. I blasted off an e-mail to LDL this morning [For those who might now know, LDL is my ex-boyfriend. The one it took many, many months (not to mention therapy) to break up with]. It was a simple, friendly “how are you?”

Of course, his reply (which came immediately) was not so simple. It was an eloquent and thoughtful response. Though short, it was just loaded with things going on in his life, good and bad. It was a good reminder of what life was like with him….never, ever dull. Never. But thoroughly exhausting. I mean, I was drained just reading the note. I haven’t written back. I don’t know what to say.

Why did I do that? I’ll probably be slaughtered for that one, too.