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Stupid Little Love Nightmare




 Today I am thankful that I (hopefully) understand the meaning of the nightmares of an old friend. 


I think the purpose of the dreams was to realize that I was a stupid little shit who couldn't see what was in front of my eyes. 

That last sentence should probably be in the present tense.  

I'm still stupid.  

I'm still going through my diaries. 

Uh oh  - I'm a clueless bitch. 

Dating me is a nightmare! 

He only did a couple of weird things in thirty-three years. 

Crap - I did whole slew of weird shit (mostly recent, too). 

**** 



When we were younger, I'd get overwhelmed at being near people and run away.  I'm what they call an extroverted introvert.  I can tolerate people if I have alone time.  If I didn't get alone time in my introvert hamster wheel with my musical instruments and art supplies, I'd run off in in a panic and obviously leave him confused. 

I was a snot who didn't know how to verbalize introversion.  I just thought I was a crazy artist.  

He'd also help me with my chores.  I shouldn't have let him do that because when two teenagers of the opposite sex are together alone, it gives the wrong impression.  I lived with my uncle for a bit after my parents died.  He'd yell and try to appear mean to my friend like he was putting on a show. 


I'd overhear my uncle tell other relatives that he liked my friend.  For years, they'd bring him up when I brought other guys home. 

Of course, I stopped bringing people by to meet my family.  


I'm not a big pomp and circumstance person.  My marriage was pretty low key.  My uncle's reaction upon meeting my spouse was a little bit sad.  His wife, literally said that I married the wrong guy and asked what happened to my old friend.  

That hurt my then spouse and, yeah, I shut that shit down in a heartbeat.  It didn't help that most of his friends and members of his family knew me in high school.  Guess what they told him? 

Yeah - my poor ex-husband possibly lived in my old friend's shadow.  That still was NEVER an excuse to hack my phone and stalk me. 


In late August of this year, my uncle's wife died.  As per cemetery rules, my uncle lingered away from the site waiting for them to lower her casket and watching in tears.  The rest of the family left him alone.  I couldn't bear to leave him alone so I stayed with him as he waited for the workers to finish. 


That was when I noticed where my friend's parents were buried.  They were just steps away from the car. 

I didn't tell my uncle why I turned white as a ghost.  

That was a horrible day. It was so bad that I had the day off from work but offered to come in and work the night shift just so I didn't think about what happened that day. 

****


As a kid, I let this guy read my attempts at poetry (for my fellow nerds, it was more like Vogon Poetry).  The poetry was about fantasies of things I wanted to do (mostly to him).  I never told him that. 

****

As much as I slam him for being weird on Facebook as an adult, I was weird to him at a couple of restaurants at 38.  


We were talking about the recent changes in Hong Kong due to the Chinese taking over the city.  I lost touch with a dear friend in 2000 when the Chinese government took over the internet.  If I remember right, there was a Jackie Chan movie playing in the background when we were eating. I admitted that when my friend from Hong Kong came to town we'd sit around and talk about our mutual crush on Jackie Chan.  Gosh, I hope I wasn't vulgar. 

Referring to the actor/singer, my dining mate replied, "He's got to be 70!" 

(Damn - never tell a man who cares for you that you have the hots for someone else!) 


Later that same day, we went out for coffee.  He was trying to humor me because I lost my game of stealing the lunch check to pay it.  He let me pay for the first round of coffees. 

Little did he know that I visited this coffee shop every weekend.  At some point in the distant past, I had hypnotized myself to become aroused when I looked at a certain painting in the dining room (with a lot of chartreuse in it).  I did this to try to save my marriage.  If I saw the color, I'd be open to my the guy I was married to at the time and do my best to make him happy (if you get my drift).  I'd take him there every Friday. 

It worked for awhile.  When it failed, I forgot about it until I sat there with my old friend, playing with my straw and feeling the heat rise up through my body.  

My friend offered to buy me several iced coffees.  He must have seen it. 

After I realized what had happen, I tried to buy the painting to no avail.  

Perhaps, I ought to stay quiet about the post-hypnotic command I had pertaining to the railroad tracks.  That was the spot my friend decided to give me a hug. 

Um....Let's just say, I had a hypnotist friend fix me after he had a good laugh at the story.  

Sigh...



(NO ONE wants to see someone they used to date get so worked up she's got a red patch on her neck. That's embarrassing.  Worse, I think he took a picture. I hope that jpg. is long gone.  Please let it be gone.  If it still exists, I might need to save up some blackmail money - lol.) 

((( Oh, and NEVER anchor a certain feeling to the soles of your feet - just saying.  Everyone will always know when you're coming.  ))) 



****


I cannot see what is in front of my face.  I'm clueless. 


As an adult, I have tried to set him up with women who were either staring at him -or- women who have expressed an interest in him. 

Whenever I did this, he'd ignore me. 

That was rude - just rude. 

I remember one of the waitresses at a restaurant approaching me as I went to the Ladies Room to wash my hands.  I had given him an amethyst in the hopes it would help him find a life partner.

She took me aside and said 'that man loves YOU.'      

I couldn't be with him due to my legal marriage and, in my stupid well-meaning way, just wanted to for him to be happy. 

Gosh, I hope he is. 

Back then, I was afraid to be honest. 

He's not a dummy.  I'm pretty sure he knew what I was feeling.  

I honestly thought I was doing right by everybody. 

In the end, I just hurt everyone. 

*****




As a kid, he solved too many of my problems.  I didn't want him to get sucked into the one I was enduring.  I didn't tell him what was going on.  He seemed to know something was wrong. 




Before my ex-husband was evicted from my house, I used to joke about putting my favorite things in a handkerchief, tying it to a stick and running away to be a hobo.  I'm pretty sure that's why he made the crack about running off to California with him. 



Now, to be fair, when the divorce finally got down to brass tacks, I found my friend's advice helpful.  He told me that it was all a matter of getting papers signed.  

That was my focus. 

The mediation took forty minutes and most of that was having the mediator say "Are you sure?" 

I would have signed anything put in front of me to get away.  

My friend always had a way of simplifying the most pressing problems.  I'd bet if I still were talking to him during the three year ex squatting in my basement phase, it would have ended much sooner. 

He's better at cutting through the emotional shit than I am.  I have a tendency to overthink my problems and worry about being fair (even to asshats). 

*****



I tend to get overly excited about stuff and jump right into it without giving it a second thought. 

It makes me wonder if I ever dragged this poor soul into something he didn't want to do. 

Did I do that to anyone else? 

What a scary thought! 

*****



In my meditations to the God of War, Ares, I get lectured on how to be a woman.  I have visions of the God of War telling me that daughters of Aphrodite don't fight the wars of men.  They let the men they love fight those battles for them.  

There was one beautiful meditation, where Ares is laughing heartily.  I hear a booming voice say "buy something pretty" and I woke up to find $60 on the floor next to me.  I bought a few dresses and heels with it at a local consignment shop.  I've never worn them, though.  

The fighting stupid battles thing is why I think I'm destined to be single. 



I've always fought.  Back in the day, our high school principal accused my friend of touching me inappropriately.  I was a devout Mormon.  I threatened that principal. This guy was a work of art and part of the reason I fought with activists in the Jeffco school system for nearly thirty years.  He continued to accuse young women of being whores and chased several out of the school system.  The system is sexist. 

On that day, I lost my cool, this horrible principal with the dirty mind threatened to call my mother.  He soon found out that he would have had to get a Ouija board to do that.  I wasn't shy about letting my anger reveal itself. 



That's not ladylike. There is a theory that women who let guys do things for them tend to produce more sex hormones like estrogen.  Women who run around acting like men, tend to produce more testosterone. This is possibly why my marriage ended.  Someone had to "man up" so to speak.  My ex-husband was under the influence of his family and wouldn't help.  It fell to me. 

Similarly, I cannot accept compliments or gifts.  Guys LOVE to give to women as it increases their testosterone. Intuitively, I know this but I still dive for the check or try to find ways of paying the men back. 

That's probably why I get into long term relationships with narcissists.  They like other people footing the bill.   

Men who do a lot of giving tend to release more testosterone.  Conversely, women who do a lot of receiving release a lot more estrogen. 

There is a biological basis for the behavior.  

Being afraid to receive is making me ugly and lowering my voice.  This is probably why I identify as asexual.  Yes, I blame the testosterone for this one stupid little chin hair that's a flippin' reminder of why women don't fight too many battles and why women let guys do kind things for them. . 

I'm vain.  I'm alone.  

I created this life for myself.  I'm not sure if I want to continue living like this or not. 

Hmmmmm.....

It was wrong of me to not let people claim their power or do the things they wanted to do. 

*****



Also, based on my writing via the internet, I'm using a lot of personal pro-nouns.  Despite popular opinion, the overuse of the words "I", "I'm", and "I've" isn't a sign of narcissism: It's a sign of depression. 

There must be some low-level depression hanging on since I discovered the truth about the stalking.  I know my doctor prescribed Wellbutrin for me in 2012 to the fear of the stalking I had at the time.  He still prescribes it. 

The original bottle is still full.  For about three hours after I take it, I cannot remember my name.  

Maybe that's subconscious?

If one finds out the person she's married and named after is making her life a living hell and harassing people she cares about, it's easy to see why she'd want to forget her name. 

Maybe I'll start working out more or something to help with the depression.  


****



The more I read my diaries, the worse I get. 

I only recorded a handful of slightly annoying things the man in the nightmares did in over three decades. 

Me?  I counted well over ten (and of course, there are some things I don't know how to type about - they are that bad.) 

If karma is real, I think he's due for some good luck.  Maybe if I run into him again, I'll buy him a slew of lottery tickets.  That is if I don't run away in embarrassment.  Truth be told, I'd probably run off now that I know what kind of a punk I can be. 




The thing that tops all the crap I pulled, was the alleged aspiration to be a .....gasp....politician! 

Based on my diaries, dating me was the stuff of nightmares. 

I think the nightmares are my due karma. 

So far, after all of my self-revelations, the nightmares appear to have ceased.  I have TWO days nightmare free. 

Hooray!! 


As I wrote before, I'm pretty sure I owe this person a round of prayers.  I'll continue to light white candles until the nightmares have ceased for a month. 

I'm not exactly sure I ever thanked him either. 

Yeah, the nightmares are reflections of my subconscious guilt for being a dork. .

Maybe I needed to see what a real prize I am (that's sarcasm) before I even think of feeling sorry for myself due to my lack of a love life.

I've got a lot of personal work to do.

Love ya lots,

S.  


P.S.  Sorry this is choppy.  I wanted to get it down somewhere before I fell asleep in the hopes I can sleep without a nightmare due to clearing my conscience. 

Boy - It's hard to type when you're shaking your head in disbelief.  

Did I really do those things? 

Wow.....

just wow....

I'm thinking about using those diaries as fireplace kindling.  

Yeah - that'll warm my dumb cold heart. 





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