A post in which I probably shouldn't be posting

This post is going to be one big fucking pity party. You have been warned.

Well I couldn't really go home when I got off work today. I had to go get my hair cut. I'd already forgotten an appointment on Wednesday. So anxious to get home to M you know. I stopped on the way and bought a bottle of Wild Turkey. It has been a long time since I drank it. It tastes like despair. The choice of redneck fucking losers everywhere, now in the convenient 200ml traveling heartbreak size. Not the best tasting stuff in the world, but after a while it goes down easy enough.

I got drunk enough tonight to see the pile of withered branches we cut out of the yard together as poetic metaphor.

So this is my re-entry into the dating world. After two and a half fucking years. I go back into the pool with a huge belly flop - a spectacular fucking failure.

I can't even blame him for this. This is my fault. I'm just an old, used-up, fat, stupid fucking moron. How could I ever have thought someone like him could have feelings for someone like me? You know how you see some moronic doddering 80 year old who marries some gorgeous 20-something because he thinks she actually loves him? That's me. You know how idiot women stay with abusive men because they think if they just love him enough they'll fix him? That's me. I suppose I should be grateful he doesn't care enough to beat me. I wish someone would. I'd like to go get in a fight and just have the ever loving snot beat out of me. Although the liquor does a pretty damn good job of making the outside feel as bad as the inside does. He told me when he first met that I shouldn't put people into classes, and that I should see what happened when I stopped doing that. Well yeah, M, I see what happens. This is what I get for having aspirations above my station.

There used to be a video they played at the bar, way back when in the beginning days of CGI. A fish falls in love with a bird, and the resultant difficulty. Yeah this is what happens when a warty old toad fish falls in love with a bird of paradise. Splat.

Of course now I realize what was going on last weekend. He went off to River's Edge to act out. He then told me about it in hopes that I would break up with him. I wasn't even smart enough to keep that much of my dignity. I thought he was insecure about the relationship, and just needed reassurance. What a fucking joke. Russ blames Glen for all this, not that I need anyone else to help me fuck up my life - I usually do quite well on my own.

My fault. That's what I keep coming back to. I have disrespected people who really care about me. I have gone against the advice of good friends. I was warned. I knew this guy's reputation. And yet I, pathetic love-starved moron, went tits to the wind, joyously into the abattoir.

My friends have been very kind. As I was lying here drunk tonight, Laura called, Miss Kat called, dana called, Mys Shay called this afternoon. I had texts from lots of people today. They were very kind. When I got home, I had no power. Perfect fucking ending to a perfect fucking day.

When I woke up this morning, everything was fine. We took a shower together and I saw him off to work with a kiss. And now I'm back amongst the other rejects. Where I guess I belong. I guess I'll get used to it again. Like I have a fucking choice, right?

I threw up for a while, which was probably a good thing. My mother called eventually, and told me to take some aspirins and go to bed. So I did. I went to bed on sheets that we had made love on just the night before. Well, I was making love anyway.

The power has come back on, and I woke up freezing. I'm as cold and bleak as my heart and future.