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Friday, Jun. 14, 2002 / 8:06 p.m. ~A Personal, Angsty Rant - You May Not Want to Read it - Not Entertaining, Okay?~ I've suffered a blow. I've been rejected, again. And not for my looks, apparently, not for my dark hair, with wispy rays of silvery white, not for my teeth, my horrid complexion, not for not wearing makeup, nor for having huge pores on my nose, or a goofy smile or thick eyebrows that I refuse to get waxed. Not for my skinny arms and legs, nor my lack of in the mammary gland department, nor my flat ass. I've been rejected for who I am. I really think this must be harder. I really think that if he was simply totally and completely and utterly attracted only to women with large, bouncy breasts, it might be easier to accept. But it's something he won't explain and I keep wondering exactly what it was that I said that made him realize he'd never be romantically interested in me. Sure, he'd fuck me, he's sort of made that a little clear, without putting it quite like that. Jon has let me know he is really not interested, but wait, he would not be uncomfortable getting together again. This is a Pisces thing. I read about this. And when I think of my first long-term boyfriend (a Pisces) I remember how all his ex-girlfriends were still his good friends, how he was the only ex-boyfriend who remained my good friend, years and years after we stopped sleeping together.... until his current wife came along and started insisting he throw away pictures of me. We went to lunch once and he admitted he'd not tell her about it. It was a secret rendezvous lunch at Wendy's. Like I'd ever have sex with him ever again! I scoffed. If she only knew. I think Jon doesn't want to have enemies, can't understand someone like myself being pissed at him for judging the hell out of me, for having an internal checklist and discovering I don't measure up at all, and not telling me as soon as he knew, but hugging me and kissing me goodbye after the movie, waiting two days and THEN writing the bad news, via email. Real sweet. I accused him of playing games, of trying to keep me from going to the Party tomorrow - and in my paranoid, questioning mind I imagined he invited someone really interesting to the Party and didn't want me to be there thinking he and I are some kind of "item", so he wrote to let me know exactly where we stand so that all would be groovy for him Saturday. Bad timing. He denies the game playing. I see it all. I can analyze the holy hell out of these situations. No problem. It's easy. What I cannot do is figure out which phrase, which story, which utterance escaped my lips, which one it was that made him say, "Uh, no, this will NEVER work, I am getting FAR away from this chick NOW!", and I wish I knew. I wish someone who does this kind of thing to me, and yes, it is a kind of thing that is done to me, it is a written rejection, could have been in person, but either way it's a "Yeah, sure, I'm attracted, but we are not suited for each other" thing, would just 'fess up and tell me EXACTLY what it was I did or said. I honestly think this would be helpful. So here's where I am now. I wrote a scathing reply to the email I posted here in my diary yesterday. He wrote back today telling me that I was bitter and angry and my ability to discuss the issue was "clouded". Or something. He denied everything, claimed I had stated I wanted more with him (yeah, right after I met him, like three or four weeks ago), and that he was letting me know how he feels. Oh yeah? I wrote back, of course, couldn't help it, clarifying, explaining some things he had wrong, and of course, he didn't respond to that. He won't. He probably left work early to go to Baseball, he does not get online on weekends, only from work, he has the BIG PARTY tomorrow, to host, so I will be long forgotten. My huge ego does not handle this sort of thing well. Yet this sort of thing seems to happen fairly often. With Terrence. With William. With Ilya. Men don't like me. Unless they're Skipper (too old for me, not physically attractive, to me, too desperate), Sandy (too needy, not physically attractive enough, to me), Branford (no, I won't have your baby), Mark (I wish you'd get a girlfriend! And take me off the fucking pedestal - when I see a real reaction from a man of my choosing I realize how off base you are in your perception of me), who else? Robert? (that never would've worked - no physical attraction, and he's too inconsistent for me, plus too far away - I'm not moving to be with someone I don't feel enough for) William was exciting, we were passionate, I loved talking to him. He said it "snowballed". I called him up once and gave him hell. He'd dissed me and I didn't want him to get away with it. Same with Ilya. I wrote to him to tell him exactly what an ass he was for treating me the way he did. He apologized. None of them liked me once they got to know me. They may see me and be attracted, but once I open my mouth and start in on some story or another, that's it, poof! Gone. I'm not devastated. When I'm realistic I know that Jon was not right for me, yes, yes, I know we are not suited for each other, as he says. He is far too passive, too passionless, too ignorant of pop culture for me, and he is not interested in me. Well, he was initially. I have the emails to prove it! Oh wow, was he ever. Crazy. He was after me, chasing me, pursuing me, kept trying, wouldn't give up, but then we met in person, we talked (see?, it's the talking), he kissed me, I only wanted more, and I told him............ not supposed to do that. 21st fucking century and women are still supposed to let men do all the chasing, all the revealing of feelings, if they ever do. I'm not supposed to wax on and on about how I feel, or what I want, or what I hope, I'm not allowed to express my desires, my passions. This is a HUGE turnoff to men. I'm guessing. Because as soon as I opened up, as soon as I let him know I wanted more, that was it, a long slow fall. Me reaching out to grab him and pull him back, but it was too late and it only got worse. Now this. I really don't believe I'll ever see him, nor talk to him again, and this is overall a very good thing, but it feels demeaning as hell to be so rejected by someone whom I could have ultimately rejected later, and probably would have. And I can think of all the reasons he may have come to his conclusion - maybe despite what the books said, that Pisces does not have a jealous bone in his body, he was jealous hearing of my weekend with Mark and Brent - he did refer to them as "All your men". Was he serious? Was he thinking he'd never have a place in my life? Did he dislike the fact that I used to go to gay clubs and dance? He said he had done the same thing in Honolulu..... Honolulu???? We didn't talk about Honolulu! Was it the assortment of food I brought? Was it my tattoos? Does he hate tattoos on women? He did attend Catholic School....is he a prude? See what I mean? I've been rejected for my personality, but I don't get to know exactly what it was I said or did. Guess what I'm going to do? Here's where you say, "Jesus, woman, you are royally fucked in the head, have you considered meds? No wonder men run from you!" I'm going to ask him to tell me. I really don't think he will. He'll shake his head and utter a sound like "tsk, tsk, tsk", but if one man would just come right out and tell me - wait, I think Branford tried that the last time we saw each other...before last week. The night of our HUGE fight. He was telling me how I'll never get a man. And he wanted me to have a man, in my life. He wanted me to get married, have kids, that sort of thing, mate and breed, but he was telling me that I never will unless I change. Change what? Fuck, I can't remember. Funny, huh? But he wasn't one of the rejectors. I need one of the ones who told me it just wouldn't work out to tell me exactly what it is I do that leads them to that conclusion. We'll see. I'll hold back in writing to Jon now. Wouldn't be wise. And he won't read it until Monday at least, so I have time to re-think. I guess I'm also really disappointed that my decision whether to attend the Party, to create the Art Piece, etc., was made for me. He did all this right before I was going to decide. I told him there was no way in hell I'd go now. He must've known that, right? Is he really a dick? Or am I a fucking psychopath? We need to hear his side. I vote for psychopath. Which of course leads me, once again, to question my existence. If I'm such a fucking psychopath, and I've never truly even been loved, except maybe by my mother whom I only knew for 17 years, what is the point? Why am I here again? Tell me again because I don't see it. No, I don't need a man, but getting close to "having" one, then being rejected for the core of my being, after two fucking dates, well, that's heavy shit. That's very heavy. Or as the women at work would say, "That's deep." Yes, it is. I've been rejected for WHO I AM. Not what I look like, but what's inside of me. How awful is that? It's been good to get this out, and I'll re-read it and realize what a psycho I am, and I'll probably ask Jon to tell me what exactly I did, or said, lay it on the line, baby, so I'll know next time, and it will be a treat to see if he responds or if he has me blocked from his Inbox. Fucking shit. I did it. I just wrote to him again. Yes, I am psychotic. I realize that. I've known, off and on throughout the years, that I am marred psychologically. That I am disturbed. I've taken a lot of drugs, I've suffered deep and scary depression, since I was a teenager, I've suffered the loss of my entire family, and yes, it's all a defense mechanism, every single bit of it, even the Astrological explanations. I am seriously fucked up. That's the way it is. But I wrote a really good letter, I think, telling him that he could be the catalyst, the one man bold and noble and caring enough to lay it all out for me and tell me why the ones I want run from me. The ones I want. Others stick around, keep trying, but they might as well just give up. I love the challenge. Oh yes, I know this. This I know. Now I'm really bummed that I won't be going to the Party, the groovy Art Happening. I was up, I was down, ready, rebelling, but in the long run, of course, I wanted it. Besides, in my fucked up way, I took to heart this Sydney Omarr horoscope for Aries for tomorrow: A lively Saturday night! The emphasis is on creativity, style, romance, and a physical attraction. Someone offers something for nothing - don't believe it! A romance could be for real. The pressure is on for you to make up your mind. Cancer lends the benefit of experience. I've known about this horoscope since I knew the date of the Party. Fucking shit. I'm torn between feeling suicidally depressed and feeling obstinate and hardheaded. Crazy. Yes, see, I am! I knew it. Oh, Moby is on "Dennis Miller Live" tonight, or so I think.....so I read, right? On Moby's site?? Reminds me, earlier, I got involved in a little flame war on his message boards, the Moby message boards that is. Fun! And I didn't care. I was feeling angry, bitter, hey, "clouded"! I've had enough of this entry. Cost of the War in Iraq
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