Better than a Bump on the Head in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

So yeah. Now that I’m back from the wild, wild weekend and have started to put myself through detox, I have decided to calm down a little and start concentrating on good things once again. I don’t want to be a boozer anymore. It’s too time consuming. It makes me sick. It turns me into an idiot. It ages me. It makes me smell (I’m guessing). It costs too much.

I was pissed to find that I’d paid for the drunkfest with Ethan before I left on my trip. I was packing and came across the charge receipt. Damn him. I know it’s not his fault, and I could be paying a LOT more had I gotten a DUI! But I’m just a bit angry at his lack of concern at how drunk I was, and his letting me pay for everything and then his letting me get in my car knowing that I could hardly walk. Again, not his fault…but shit. I’m certain that he knew I was completely wasted.

I don’t remember asking him to follow me home. I don’t remember how I got turned around even. I was going a funky way back to my house when I smacked into that woman’s car! I don’t remember the sex that obviously happened (trust me, I know it happened). Come on, people. What kind of guy has sex with someone who’s blacked out and about to completely pass out?

Don’t answer that.

As lonely as I am these days, and as much as I’d really like to share my soul with someone else, I simply refuse to just give my heart to someone who’d take it because it’s offered but doesn’t really give a shit about it. And I think that’s what I attempted to do with Ethan.

And really, other guys too lately.

I haven’t gotten in touch with Ethan since I’ve been back, and he hasn’t attempted to contact me either. Good. What I said the other day still holds. I’d really rather never have to see him again. That doesn’t mean that I’m not sad that he and I didn’t have a connection. I wanted to connect, I really did. But our dynamic was bizarre and I got stuck in this crazy role of nervous, adoring fan. I couldn’t relax around him unless I’d had a few belts. Whack.

How can it be that I still get as nervous around guys at age 34 ½ as I did at 16 ½? I’m positive that my lack of self-confidence vibes are keeping me from connecting with someone. And once again, I’m very aware that I’m oozing desperation.

Obviously, it’s time to back off and concentrate on other things for a while. Obviously, I’ve got to get comfortable with myself because I’m all I’ve got. And that’s fine. If that’s the way it was meant to be, then I really and truly need to get my mind in the right frame.

If I was meant to be single, then single I will be. It’s up to me to make myself happy. Do you realize that I’m having an epiphany right now? Do you realize that I’m just as nervous with myself as I am with the others I’m hoping to connect with??! No fucking wonder I’m sending out such nervous energy. I’m so nervous with myself….how could anyone possibly get comfortable with me if I’m not even comfortable with myself

Duh. Not such a revelation to most of you, I’m sure. But it’s helping me to write this down. I’m sick of feeling sorry for my lame ass. I’m sick of blaming others for a lack of connection. I’m sick of using others as an excuse for why I’m not at a place in my life that I’d like to be.

Nobody else in the whole wide world can ever make me happy.

And nobody else in the whole wide world can ever make me miserable.

Screw using Big Boss and Mr. Peepers and Ethan and Devin and Hy and Theo and Marley and LDL and Mom and Dad and Lovely L. and Best Bud and Little Lori and my College Buds and my kitty and the internet and ALCOHOL as an excuse for making me feel a certain way!!!

No way people. From now on, I’ve got to at least try to adjust my way of thinking. I’m not saying that I will never drink again. I’m not saying I’ll never date again. I’m not saying that I’ll never let someone get to me again. I’m not saying that I won’t cry over spilled milk or make huge blunders any more.

But I don’t want to sit around and bitch any more and I don’t want to feel so goddamn sorry for myself, all the while blaming other people and my own bad habits for my sorryness.

I have so much potential. It’s wasting away. Time is of the essence. I’m sick of procrastinating. I’m going….