I haven’t allowed myself time to get mad yet if the anger will ever come. I don’t want to lose people I consider friends, one who I consider family. I’m trying to chalk it up to their youth and that if they knew how bad it would end up hurting me, they wouldn’t have done it.
They made up that my crush was an author on Medium. I knew he definitely had the talent for it, as he’d show me snippets of writing before. As I read my crush’s alledged blog and his Sad Emo Incel tweets, what can I say, it made me want to comfort him and love him even more. I even imagined some of his Tweets were about me. One asked ‘me’ why ‘I’ loved him, that he was much smarter than ‘me’ and he couldn’t love himself. One said that it made him sad that ‘I’ thought he was pretty. I had said to Anonymous that I was prettier than him a couple days beforehand in jest, so I thought Incel was tweeting about that. It gave me such a rush to think he was secretly telling me things through his 3k follower Twitter. I even said something about liking intellectuals and the next day, he tweeted something like, the reason he became an intellectual was ‘because it was one sphere women hadn’t infiltrated.’ Incels say the darndest things.
It made me bolder than I otherwise would’ve ever dared to have been. So I declared myself to my friend, the first person I ever said it to. He ignored me at first, but finally told me he had ‘zero interest in me, that people were lying to me.’
At first, I hoped he cared for me. I thought I had proof that he liked me back, a purloined screenshot, seemingly of my friend confessing he liked me, appreciated me always being there for him, and that he liked that I read his entire blog.
Now if you know me, a big thing for me is feeling like I’m needed even slightly. It gave me a raison d’etre for a minute.
When I found out it was all fabricated, I was devastated. Weeping, ugly, fat tears. Not only did I have to contend with rejection, the knowledge that he didn’t need me at all broke me. I still haven’t quite processed the whole thing. There’s a part of me that wishes to believe it was real and my friend asked everyone to tell me a story.
What likely was meant to happen in the joke was I was supposed to be weirded out by Incel Andy’s writing and swear off my crush…. But when I like someone, I like them faults and all.
I haven’t spoke with my BFF since the 27th. That is, I haven’t spoken to her where she deigned to reply. One day, I felt particularly desperate to not be alone, so I made small talk in messenger: “Hey, they shot an 18 year-old here the other day by the mailboxes.”
Nothing. Not even her regular, “The people living there are animals.” I guess I really messed up if I don’t get to hear her denigrate my apartment complex, the entire southeastern United States, or virtually everyone she ever knew.
I’m actually worried about her. I check Messenger every day to make sure she’s OK. If she needed something/someone, I’m confident she’d let me know.
I worry I will wind up an unattended death, or evicted, or with a life-threatening disease, and no one will be there for me. It’s an overwhelming fear.
I worry about my impulsiveness when I’m really upset, that I get manipulative the more upset I get. I don’t mean to, but it is an extreme character flaw of mine, and I really need to work on that.
I wish she didn’t think I tried to turn her boyfriend against her. I did no such thing. The one time he threatened to leave, he was fucked up, and she had been nasty to both of us on Christmas 2019. The other times, he cried that he thought she didn’t love him, etc, and I would try to convince him otherwise.
This ride, man. She basically told me the other day she didn’t want anything to do with me and was only going to have people around who do something for her. Now she’s back, but I almost lost her again when we thought her car was being towed. She told me if her car ever gets towed from my apartment, that’s it.
And I think the fellow who was smitten with me no longer is. Before he ever actually met me in person. I’m trying to not get too upset. I would often wonder what it would be like to hang out at the beach , go to the movies with him, talk at length, and no longer be a virgin. Alas, it was not meant to be. He was likely my last chance too, but he rode off into the sunset while I’m consigned to the glue factory. Thank God it happened before I had a chance to truly fall for him. I can imagine what kind of basket case I’d be had I actually been in love. Considering what I go through every time I think my only friend has cut me off.
I sometimes think her dead boyfriend intercedes for me. I pray to him, or talk to him, and then she shows up. In life, he had tried to protect me. I am truly grateful that he was that fond of me. I think if I got felled by covid or ran over, he’d actually miss me if he wasn’t already dead.
Strangely enough, March 25th will mark my third blogoversary. Time flies when you type five words a minute. Picture it, I a callow youth of 32, rose in my cheeks and tortured genius illuminating my eyes, typing my first words! Oh how the muses danced, the angels wept, and the majestic turkey vultures soared! Three years, still here. In case you missed those 3 years, let me summarize:
Lisa, the OCDbloggergirl, lives with her mother and 3 cats. Lisa has OCD and is getting into fights with her mom, mainly because Lisa cannot be the perfect person Lisa wants to be and this pisses her off. Poor mom. The years are swallowed up with Lisa writing, Lisa getting published by online journals ( reprints of blog entries, mainly). Lisa’s writing improves. She thinks “Hey why don’t I get my own website, maybe I’ll get rich or at least be able to have a meowing cat widget!” Life is swell. Then Fate says, “Hey why don’t I let your mom die of complications from pneumonia, that would be a plot twist!” Life sucks. Some social worker says Lisa might have to go to a group home if she can’t find somewhere to go on her SSI check. Lisa would rather die than be separated from her cats now that there’s no one else. Neighbors step in and she and the cats go live there. Life is very good again and Lisa finds her Soul Mate in her gay neighbor (Dumb, OCDbloggergirl. You get what ‘gay’ means, right?) But gay friend and jealous partner are kinda messed up themselves and who was wrong? Who was right? Who was fucked over? I think Lisa was, but maybe they were, but maybe she was, but then …All the lies and uncertainty make Lisa do something to herself, she ends up in the hospital. Then she ends up in hell…er a nursing home for two months, until her roommates cave and let her dumb ass back in for a nominal hike in rent (475.00 instead of 240.00). Life is teetering from good to bad back and forth. The man she loves, Gay Romeo, likes to lie, and has stopped taking his medicines. He forgets he cares about Lisa altogether, but she is saved from hell by a program. Lisa now has her own apartment for the first time in her life, and they all lived happily ever after maybe. She hopes that now her blog will stop being a total buzz kill.
I guess you could say I am at a good place now. Well, almost. Oscar, my grey and black tabby is missing now for over a month. I remain hopeful he will return, just as my Phillipe did 9 years ago when my mother and I moved into our old apartment. Phillipe was cooped up 2 weeks before we opened the door and let him go outside. He didn’t come home for 2 and a half months. Came home though, and no worse for wear. I suspect someone took him in and he finally got away, which I suppose happened to Oscar too. I think a good post would be to tell the stories of my 3 cats one day. For those of you who pray, please pray Oscar comes home. Thanks.
But yeah. Good place. Now. I am happy for the most part. There is a strange sort of freedom to being alone in the world. I find my life worth living, even if only for my cats, and the occasional ‘rescue mission’ for Bestie, who is a bit of an anxious lass. I don’t have to be useful to anyone anymore, and that’s freedom in a way. When I was with the roommates, my use was measured in my finances I guess. When I was with my friend I knew from way back, all he wanted was a batch o’ my snatch. When I went to that ‘home,’ almost everyone wanted me for one reason or another. Eh God, vultures. I am better off on my own having my own adventures and my own life. Hanging out with Bestie, my friend of 20 years, basically fulfills my social life, that and my online life. Soul brothers are merely mythological creatures, unicorns. I miss my unicorn though (we even watched My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic together, sigh).
And now, not to be all Jodi Arias stalky or anything, but I did have someone drive me by ye olde home place, just to see if the members of the She-Male Lisa Haters Club had indeed left town as they said they would in March. Part of me prayed that they were gone, that seeing an empty apartment would cure me of my feelings for The Unicorn nee Soul Bro. But neighhhhhhhh, the signs that they were still there abounded. First, the plants that I gave him from my mother were still there. The chair that once was mine was still there, as no doubt the rest of the lawn furniture that he felt was his due (I would have left that chair for him anyway, the way I had left half of my hard candy for him). There is a yellow truck out in front. I wonder if it’s his. He always wanted a yellow vehicle. If it is, the straits they said they were in due to me must have eased into gentler waters.
But the doubts are ever present in my mind. Is it because of me that they aren’t gone to fulfill his dream in DC? Is he sick? Or, like so many other things, was living there just another of his stories? Once, The Partner told me that I was a boil on his butt that he just can’t lance. Well, I was lanced wasn’t I? Shouldn’t they be happily ever after now, and shouldn’t I, like a normal person, stop giving a fuck about The Unicorn? Somewhere over the rainbowwwwwwww….
I am happy now. I am almost at peace. I must put them out of my mind. I am eternally grateful that he was there when my mother died, but that chapter of my life must close. That way I can truly be happy, That and finding Oscar. Where the hell are you, Oscar?
PS, other fun incidentals. Remember for a time I foolishly flirted with having a self-hosted site? Well when I hung up the towel there at ocdbloggergirl dot com and let my domain expire, guess what happened? I thought maybe some other blogger might buy it, but I doubted it. Nope. Ocdbloggergirl dot com didn’t even become a Canadian pharmacy. Cough. It became…cough…a porn site. A porn site boasting Polish lesbians. I’m not joking, And as Paul Harvey used to say…”now you know the rest of the story.”