Grey and I have a mutual friend. I shall name her Cat. For the obvious alternate to dog names, of course.
Cat is great, we both love her and she is a good laugh. I am not stupid though, nor am I ignorant to her complete infatuation with Grey. Although Cat and I are friends, I think she secretly hopes that Grey and I breakup. At least that's what my absolutely crazy thoughts keep telling me. I am 95% sure that I am wrong on this. But the other 5% won't stop nagging me.
A lot of nicknames I've had from ex-boyfriends include something about me being mental. Is there something I'm missing? Why is it so clear to these boys that I'm a bit ... well ... crazy? Am I crazy? Or are they so daft that they think it's okay to tell me about girls who fawn all over them. I suppose I do the same. Grey called me earlier while I was about to go to the cinema with some mates who happened to all be male. Hardly fawning, but as you may have gathered the majority of my friends are boys.
'I'll call you right back,' I promised. I didn't. We ended up being late to the film and I didn't have time to call him until afterwards.
He answered after one ring, 'Hello?'
'Hey, are you alright?'
'Yeah, a bit of a stressful day, but Cat's coming down to hang out.'
'Oh,' I said, trying to sound surprised as opposed to making it sound like a question. In my head I was thinking 'oh REALLY?' '... that should be ... fun.'
'Should be. I think we might go out for a pint or two.'
'I thought she was driving up.'
'She is.'
'Where is she staying?'
'I told her she could have my bed and I would sleep on the sofa.'
@#$%!
'Oh, that's logical.' I said, my face burning. WHY would he tell me this if it was anything but innocent? He wouldn't. And he certainly wouldn't cheat, so why did I freak out?
I'll tell you why.
The Ex. THE Ex. The ex cheated on me. Numerous times. But he never confessed. No. Instead he got mad at me when I confronted him. The girl he cheated with stalked me. Her best friend stalked me and eventually confronted me. And yet I still believed the ex. I had to. Until it became so blindingly obvious that he couldn't differentiate between his truth and his lies. He couldn't keep up with his own lies, yet they played over and over in my head as if on iTunes shuffle. His conflicting stories taunted me until I had enough and eventually left.
Grey is not The Ex. He is nothing like The Ex, and yet he bears eery resemblance in certain ways. Those are two conflicting ideologies, I know. For the most part Grey is so much better in so many ways to The Ex. I really only hate myself for doubting him and Cat. Two people who deeply care about me, but clearly care about each other as well in a completely platonic way (at least on his part - between the time he spends with me on the phone and in real life, he doesn't have time for anyone else.) I think the really horrible part about men cheating on women is that it doesn't make women hate men, it makes women hate women. There's still a small part of me that wants to believe that The Ex never did cheat on me and that he was telling the truth when he said that the 'psychotic whore is lying.' Psychotic whore sounds a lot like 'mentalist', which is what he called me. How convenient to be able to shrug these accusations off to a neurological psychosis. The Ex even introduced me to one of his exes as 'Crazy (her name here)'. I told her my name and she said 'Crazy (my name here)!' I laughed to myself, thinking, 'No, dear. You* are the crazy one. I'm the one he's going home with.' And yet I have no idea where he went that night.
As Gnarls Barkley says, 'Does that make me crazy?'
I want to trust Grey. I want to trust Cat. I want to be okay with this. But I'm not. All these stupid and paranoid questions kept creeping into our phone conversation, and instead of falling to sleep when I hung up, I started typing.
Sometimes I really hate myself.
Okay, I don't hate myself. But everything above I wrote when I should have been sleeping. Then I went to sleep and dreamt about having my dream job and then being late for my first day and then being fired. Symbolism? Maybe, as in a lot of things are no one's fault but my own. Such as jealousy. It truly is the most unnecessary of feelings.
It makes me go from this:
Cat is great, we both love her and she is a good laugh. I am not stupid though, nor am I ignorant to her complete infatuation with Grey. Although Cat and I are friends, I think she secretly hopes that Grey and I breakup. At least that's what my absolutely crazy thoughts keep telling me. I am 95% sure that I am wrong on this. But the other 5% won't stop nagging me.
A lot of nicknames I've had from ex-boyfriends include something about me being mental. Is there something I'm missing? Why is it so clear to these boys that I'm a bit ... well ... crazy? Am I crazy? Or are they so daft that they think it's okay to tell me about girls who fawn all over them. I suppose I do the same. Grey called me earlier while I was about to go to the cinema with some mates who happened to all be male. Hardly fawning, but as you may have gathered the majority of my friends are boys.
'I'll call you right back,' I promised. I didn't. We ended up being late to the film and I didn't have time to call him until afterwards.
He answered after one ring, 'Hello?'
'Hey, are you alright?'
'Yeah, a bit of a stressful day, but Cat's coming down to hang out.'
'Oh,' I said, trying to sound surprised as opposed to making it sound like a question. In my head I was thinking 'oh REALLY?' '... that should be ... fun.'
'Should be. I think we might go out for a pint or two.'
'I thought she was driving up.'
'She is.'
'Where is she staying?'
'I told her she could have my bed and I would sleep on the sofa.'
@#$%!
'Oh, that's logical.' I said, my face burning. WHY would he tell me this if it was anything but innocent? He wouldn't. And he certainly wouldn't cheat, so why did I freak out?
I'll tell you why.
The Ex. THE Ex. The ex cheated on me. Numerous times. But he never confessed. No. Instead he got mad at me when I confronted him. The girl he cheated with stalked me. Her best friend stalked me and eventually confronted me. And yet I still believed the ex. I had to. Until it became so blindingly obvious that he couldn't differentiate between his truth and his lies. He couldn't keep up with his own lies, yet they played over and over in my head as if on iTunes shuffle. His conflicting stories taunted me until I had enough and eventually left.
Grey is not The Ex. He is nothing like The Ex, and yet he bears eery resemblance in certain ways. Those are two conflicting ideologies, I know. For the most part Grey is so much better in so many ways to The Ex. I really only hate myself for doubting him and Cat. Two people who deeply care about me, but clearly care about each other as well in a completely platonic way (at least on his part - between the time he spends with me on the phone and in real life, he doesn't have time for anyone else.) I think the really horrible part about men cheating on women is that it doesn't make women hate men, it makes women hate women. There's still a small part of me that wants to believe that The Ex never did cheat on me and that he was telling the truth when he said that the 'psychotic whore is lying.' Psychotic whore sounds a lot like 'mentalist', which is what he called me. How convenient to be able to shrug these accusations off to a neurological psychosis. The Ex even introduced me to one of his exes as 'Crazy (her name here)'. I told her my name and she said 'Crazy (my name here)!' I laughed to myself, thinking, 'No, dear. You* are the crazy one. I'm the one he's going home with.' And yet I have no idea where he went that night.
As Gnarls Barkley says, 'Does that make me crazy?'
I want to trust Grey. I want to trust Cat. I want to be okay with this. But I'm not. All these stupid and paranoid questions kept creeping into our phone conversation, and instead of falling to sleep when I hung up, I started typing.
Sometimes I really hate myself.
Okay, I don't hate myself. But everything above I wrote when I should have been sleeping. Then I went to sleep and dreamt about having my dream job and then being late for my first day and then being fired. Symbolism? Maybe, as in a lot of things are no one's fault but my own. Such as jealousy. It truly is the most unnecessary of feelings.
It makes me go from this:
To this:
And it happens in the blink of an eye. She Hulk is most representative of my irrational anger caused by jealousy. She would take those little blue birds and bite their heads off. Well I may not be that extreme, but the flurry of broken things around She Hulk is fairly representative of me in an angry rage.
But then I think of this:
... and it brings me out of the red and back into the yellow-zone.
So there you have it, the three stages of my irrational anger. I don't even remember what I was angry about because now I'm just thinking of Brian in a banana suit.
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