I knew when I started ugly crying in the shower this morning that this week is going to be really bad.
I put up a Tinder profile before Thanksgiving looking for a date for New Year’s Eve. Here we are three days out and I have no date.
I was alone for Thanksgiving. I was alone for Christmas. Neither was that big a deal because those days are obligatory celebrations anyway.
But New Year’s Eve is time you spend with someone because you want to, and it sucks knowing no one wants to spend it with me.
No, it’s more than that.
I grew up being told I am not lovable. I am not wanted. I am a burden. I am not loved. I don’t talk about this because this is my core pain, and people like you who have no clue what it’s like to grow up that way tend to minimize its effects on me. You think I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing. That I should grow the fuck up and get over it. That you know my relatives and out of the whole bunch I’m the only one that’s crazy so the problem must be me. Lucky for me I don’t give a fuck what you think. I know that in a court of law impact holds more weight than intent. For me the impact was devastating, so much so that to this day I still believe it’s true. So spare me what you THINK the intent was.
Now you know why no one wanting to spend New Year’s Eve with me hurts so damned bad. Yet again they were right and I’m not wanted. I’m not lovable.
I’ve thought of throwing up another profile just to see if maybe someone bites. Would it really make a difference? Probably not, but at least I wouldn’t sit at home alone and be fucking miserable. Hookups work for people like me; for a little while someone actually wants to be with me and that sure as hell beats nothing.
Don’t feel sorry for me, and for fuck’s sake don’t make stupid comments you think will make me feel better. They won’t. If you understand where I’m coming from you know there is nothing you can say that will make me feel better, and if you don’t, well, you just don’t.