Patterns Make Pictures

Over the years, I’ve noticed more and more how patterns seem to abound. Most of us know the common-knowledge “this applies to everyone” types of patterns, such as, people die in threes, etc. But then there are the individual patterns we all follow. Those are the ones that intrigue me most.

Like, I had a three year run where I wasn’t hit on by a single man my age, but I was being hit on by men 15 years (or more) my junior every time the wind changed course. I finally said, okay Universe, I’ll play along, and after a three or four month liaison with a guy 17 years younger than myself, the Universe moved onto the next pattern. HOWEVER! The next pattern was already becoming established with the seriously way-too-young-for-me-omgawds kid.

It was the pattern of J names that I am still slightly stuck in.

So I met a guy named Keith and thought YAY! I’m finally moving on in the alphabet. And I wasn’t setting out to meet anyone because, let’s face it, relationships of the romantical sort are definitely not my forte.

That’s when I discovered my next pattern in the completely effed up journey of my not-even-wanted love life. It’s the “Well, fuck, he’s still invested in his ex even if he doesn’t tell you he is” pattern.

First, let’s cue Mr. Yesterday. He’s the one that told me I was not someone he needed to check qualities off the list for…I WAS the list. He hadn’t felt that way for anyone in years. “I claim you for as long as you want me. Every moment makes me want you more” blah blah blah it’s all lies blah blah blah guy. Yup, the one who suddenly did a complete 180 overnight and *GASP* suddenly had feelings for his ex and was reconnecting to her again. It lasted three whole weeks when they DID get back together so obviously it wasn’t the amazing fantasy he had playing in his head, but the bottom line is that he told me on the first date that there was no one else. So, yes, that means he LIED. And I was automatically in competition with someone I knew nothing about, and had he let me know he wasn’t truly moved on, I would have known better than to catch feelings. His name starts with a J.

Then there’s the Vaping Viking. Also a J name. Also in love with his ex still. He at least owns it, though, so I’ve known to not get too close and to not let my heart open up to him and to not invest myself and to not fantasize about some future that is completely unrealistic. But then, he’s the guy acting like we are in a relationship and wants to spend as much time with me as possible and wants to hang with my kidlettes and introduced me to his parents when they were in town and is now buying our tickets to the Nutcracker so his mother can come back to Pennsylvania and see my daughter performing with us. Which, you know, if I’m not mistaken, these are all relationship goals. And I keep referring to him as my FRIEND, and yet, I’m seemingly in a relationship that isn’t really a relationship. As soon as I figured out that he’s viewing us as something different than we are, I quit sleeping with him. He took me to dinner last night, and he is incredibly upfront about reading my texts when they come in and commenting on them, and I swear that’s something only a boyfriend who wants to know what his girl is up to would do. But…again…I am not trying to be in a relationship, and this is a pretty skewered version of a relationship if we WERE in one.

Next on my list…Keith. And Keith came on strong. Keith invited me and the kids to come home with him to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving and be his date amongst his family. And he said the words which are now becoming a pattern, too, “I’ve finally found my sexy nerd girl. There’s no way I’m letting you go.” And flattery galore and good morning texts and good night texts and a million texts in between every day and good gawds, he acts like I’m the next best thing since cocoa beans and sugar chilled and watched Netflix and made a baby together. But…you know I can’t break this pattern until I am immersed in it and recognize it and face it head on. So yeah….

And he said NOTHING back! The dude who couldn’t stop texting me and flattering me and acting so excited over me who ALSO was the dude who kept bringing up his exes every single freaking time I turned around and saying things like, “Yeah, that’s what Genelle did!” or “Kate was like that. She would do A, B, and C, blah blah blah” every single time we were on any topic whatsoever had absolutely nothing to say in regards to my outright confrontation of the fact I am already in competition with a couple ghosts.

So I unfriended him on Facebook and am now analyzing why this is my pattern and hoping this pattern is now broken. I have faced it head on after recognizing it and have taken the healthy approach which keeps me from being a doormat and/or excusing behavior that leaves me as an option. I mean, if someone treats you like an option and can’t make up their mind, help them make their choice by removing yourself from the equation. It really IS that simple.

Aaaaaaaand now I’m giggling stupidly because the last two I mentioned weren’t even intended to be found or put into the place where I even give a flying rat’s ass. Yet, here I am. Because the Universe has absolutely no qualms with teaching you lessons that you really have no interest in learning.

And people wonder why I don’t want anything to do with relationships at this point.

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Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire!

“Be open, LeeAnn! Quit waiting for the other shoe to drop! You know if you keep looking for something wrong with them, you’ll find it!”

Meh…

Sure, maybe I’m jaded. Sure, I’m quite possibly talking to a guy who is just helping someone out like the amazing guy he portrays himself to be. Or, you know, he’s Cheater McCheater McCheaterpants.

I’m just gonna go with the latter because I’m not twelve, and I have this alarm that sounds whenever someone is bullshitting me. Like right now. There’s not a single word in this exchange that makes me want to give the benefit of the doubt.

I ain’t even mad. I’m so used to this type of behavior that it’s only blog worthy because I worked all day and didn’t post a thing and needed something to write quickly so I can go the fuck to sleep.

The Angry TMI Blog

Here it is. The blog where I lose some readers. That really sucks because I am almost to sixty now. I know that isn’t a lot in the world of blogging, but I love it.

I’m angry. I’ve been angry for three weeks. And it finally clicked why. Let me share the back story why, so maybe you’ll get it.

Back when Mr. Yesterday and I were seeing each other romantically and not simply as friends, we were legitimately working on our foundation. That’s a word we both used on a daily basis in our conversations. Everything we did was supposedly to build each other up and to connect and to do things the right way because this was it. It was real. It was the most real thing ever in the history of all real things. And part of that was our Pants Clause. We weren’t rushing into sex even though we really, really, reeeeeeaaaally wanted to. But! We could totally do anything we wanted so long as our pants remained on. It built up tensions and kept the energy sizzling.

Before we would break the Pants Clause, we A)Set the date that we had pushed ourselves far enough to prove we were into each other beyond just sexually, and B)We were never to have any barriers between us because that was legitimately the most amazing part of us. No secrets, no barriers, no boundaries, no falsities. I had just been through my yearly checkup which included being tested for any STD’s, and he went through it for me once we decided we wanted complete openness. I went in and got the depo shot so pregnancy wouldn’t be on the table. I hate birth control because it comes with heftier risks than it should. But for him and what we were building, I went that route.

And two days before we were to break the Pants Clause, it ended. I had it in my Google calendar. I got an alert in the form of an email, an alarm, and a text. Because yes, I totally love torturing myself and shoving a knife into my heart, thanks Google!!!

He went onto his ex. He got laid. He probably had amazing sex. And me? Well, I didn’t, obviously. I put myself into a refreshed celibate period. I’d almost broken it for him, but, you know, exes.

Now HERE’S why I’m so fucking angry. Depo has fucked my body up. I have spent three weeks in varying stages of my period. It shows up, I bleed for a couple days, it goes away for a couple days, it comes back like how it normally is on the last day of a period, then it goes away, then I wake up with it full force again the following day, etc. And just like regular periods that don’t go on indefinitely, I am feeling allllllll the emotions. I am craving junk food, I am breaking out in pimples, I am cramping like a mother effer. Why??? Because I believed someone wanted me forever, so I made a concession that I don’t normally make so we could have something we both supposedly wanted more than anything. And he moved on, and I moved into the land of all things uterus.

I couldn’t have sex right now if I wanted to simply because of what depo has done to my body. I took a medication that altered my physical state for no fucking reason in the end. I am affected long term because of this choice. I am reminded that I had fallen deeply enough to do something that would lead to this catastrophe while another girl got to have the reward I was so close to having. No, scratch that, the reward was supposed to be the ability to be one hundred percent open without the slightest barrier between us ever in every single aspect of our lives, and she didn’t get that either. But she DID get to have an orgasm. And she DID get to have his full attention and his intimacy and to curl beside him afterward while they whispered all those oh so lovely words of amour to each other. I had spent that time directly prior to her resurgence building up the need inside him, and someone else reaped the benefits of that even if only for a short while. It’s irrelevant. Everything he and I were supposed to be was given over fully to another. She borrowed from my experience while I was over here trying to piece myself back together before my uterus decided to declare war on me.

And if I DO decide I want sex, I can’t have it. I simply can’t. That’s totally the wrong kind of wetness. Let’s not forget how I would rather stab myself in the eye with a spork than have the “No, you can’t put your penis inside my vagina because it’s already full of tampon” conversation.

Let’s also not mention how freaked out I’ve been over this turn of events and how many informative sites and message boards I’ve visited to figure out how normal this is. Causing three weeks of non-stop ovulating and purging can NOT be a healthy thing. I allowed myself to be fucked up mentally, emotionally, and obviously physically for someone who could walk away and give all the pretty words to someone else along with all the dicking. I did everything I was supposed to and everything I said I would do only to get shafted in the least fun way possible in the end.

So I’m pissed. And I want chocolate. And I want to smack a bitch. And I want to scream.

But mostly, I want to not acknowledge that there’s not a single part of me that wasn’t altered from that relationship. Not a Single. Fucking. Thing. And I didn’t have nearly the same effect on him, so it’s really rather a big ol’ steaming pile of bullshit which just makes me aggressively angry every time I go to pee. Which is a lot. I drink half my weight in water daily.

But I do have to acknowledge it, and I suppose a physical reminder helps me not forget the pitfalls of falling too soon or in believing and trusting too quickly. Perhaps that’s exactly why the universe is doing this to me…