Last week was a little rough for me. And by rough, I mean that I had a total "I-hate-boys" week. Initially, it was because of this guy who I thought was a really great guy. (Well, he might very well be a great guy who just wasn't into me. Which sucks, but fair enough, I guess.) In a nutshell, we're friends, we hooked up, we exchanged lukewarm emails, we made really half-assed plans to get together, we missed each other's phone calls, and that's pretty much been it. All week, I was more or less rationalizing away his behavior. And while there are actually legitimate mitigating factors, at the end of the week, when I received yet another lukewarm, lame-ass email, I read it, frowned, walked away from my computer, stopped half-way across the room, went back, read it again, and thought, well, Fuck That Shit.
Later, I related (slash copied and pasted) his email to my go-to straight guy friend, whose interpretation was something along the lines of, well, this doesn't mean that he's not interested. I went, wait, what? Said friend then proceeded to lecture me on all the things he thought I had done wrong up to that point and then advise me on how I should act going forward. Basically, he encouraged me to play a lot of stupid games. And I thought even more emphatically that time, well, Fuck That Shit.
Mostly, I just couldn't believe that here I was trying to make excuses for this guy. That is so not my job AT ALL. I recognize that I'm probably unfairly taking an entire year's worth of frustration at boys out on this poor guy who just happened to stumble into me at a particularly low-point in my life, but that's kind of just it. There's a point at which enough is enough. I have wasted so much time and energy making excuses for boys, hoping that one day they'll come around, waiting for the day things will magically be different. I guess that is sort of why it's taken me so long to cut 'F' (who also resurfaced in the MOST frustrating manner this week as well) out of my life. With 'F', I knew from Day 2 (seriously, Day 2) that he was not right for me. And yet, I convinced myself that it was fun and not particularly detrimental to my life in any way, so I let it drag on for practically four months, far past the point at which it stopped being fun. And gradually, during that time, this very small part of me started to hope, even believe, that one day, we'd wake up and he'd suddenly be different. He'd make some grand gesture and grow the fuck up.
So when 'F' did resurface, I caved and agreed to see him. Every single thing about him that day simply reconfirmed what I already knew about him. In fact, everything single thing about him that day actually made me angry that I was there at all. And when I told him that this was the end of the line for us, he was astonished (and pissed). He kept asking, "What changed?"
Nothing had changed between Day 2 and now. But do I really want him to change? Do I really want to be with someone who has to come around to the idea of being with me? Do I really want to waste my time waiting for someone to change? Do I want to be with someone with whom I have to play games to get to date me? Do I want to be with someone that I have to wear down before he'll fall in love with me? No. Fuck That Shit.
Life's too short.