Ok, listen up gentlemen, because this post is completely aimed at you.
I know that you probably think that you’re being all kinds of sweet and charming, but I need to tell you a really big secret. Are you listening? Ok. Here’s the deal…
I do not really like it when you come straight out of the gate with the pet names and whatnot. You don’t get to call me “baby,” or any variation of “baby,” just because you happen to think I’m cute. I also know that I’m not alone feeling this way! I know lots of girls who are not charmed by this behavior at all!
I’m glad you think I’m cute. I dig that you think I’m fun to talk to and that you have a great time when I’m around. I take these things as the compliments that they are. However, while I may like you, while I may also enjoy your company, it does not mean I’m your baby! I promise that you’ll know for sure if you’re allowed to call me pet names. If you’re not sure, or I’ve never used one for you, then you’re not allowed.
Also, if we’re IMing or texting, or whatever … lay off the emoting that you’re snuggling up to me or kissing my nose or what the hell ever else it is you seem to think I’m going to think is so cute. It’s not cute. It kind of creeps me out. And if I happen to be trying to actually have a conversation with you, how about not mentioning how much you’d like to see my boobs.
I mean really!
Let me preface this by saying that I haven’t had a wink of fucking sleep all night. I’m tired, cranky, and there’s a slight possibility that I’ve just downright snapped. But, here’s the thing. I’m done crying over all the… bullshit. I am done being hurt.
I’m not perfect. I’m far from it. I always do my damnedest to be a good friend, though, and when I do fall short I’m quick to try to repair that. Friendship is important to me, it means something to me. And while I refuse to give up on people, I am all done believing every single person who says that they’re my friend, just because they say they are. Show me.
If I only matter to you at certain times, or under certain conditions, fuck you. Yeah, that’s right. Fuck you. Because while I am, as I said, far from perfect, I don’t do that shit. And if I appeared to be doing that shit, I’d want to be told.
So, no more hurting. No more tears. No more fucking whining.
To the following people, in no particular order, thank you, sincerely, for always being the best kind of friend to me…
- KH
- Lori
- Mike
- Maria
- Cary
- Boon
- Heath
For all that I’ve bitched, moaned, and whined lately, I know that I am very lucky.
Could someone please tell me why people say things that they don’t mean? Why do they make promises that they know that they can’t really keep? What good comes from it? They tell you what you want to hear when you want to hear it, but then let you down. Break your heart and tear you up.
More importantly, why do I believe them? Why is this a lesson that I can’t seem to learn? Why do I always believe the lie? I’m smarter than this. I’m so much smarter than this. Or at least, I used to think I was. But I keep falling for it, hook, line and sinker. I can’t decide which of us that makes more full of fail.
I give. I’ll hold on to the friends I know I can count on… and somehow I’ll find a way to toughen up.
WoW Related Shit:
- It’s ‘rogue’ not ‘rouge.’ What the hell is wrong with you people? If you actually play a rogue and are still spelling it wrong consistently, you are an ignorant douche, end of story.
- Rotface won’t die.
- Mombank. If you don’t play Horde on Winterhoof, then your personal trade troll of choice can be inserted here.
- It is not fucking “deeps.” Really? Is the acronym DPS really that difficult to just spell out, as-is?! Lazy!
Real Life Related Shit (Because yes, I do so have one!):
- Daddy, I love you. I’d like to have a real relationship with you, but sometimes you scare the shit out of me. Your temper is out of control. I think about how I was always Daddy’s girl when I was little, but how you changed all of that, because you can’t control your temper. I miss being my Daddy’s girl sometimes. Just not enough to put myself in harm’s way.
- E. Fuck you. I mean, really. You talk shit about my “internet friends,” and act like they’re so beneath you because you’re “real life.” Sometimes (read: frequently, most of the time) those “internet friends” that you sneer about are there for me in ways you never are. Pull your head out of your ass, and if you’re so much more real than they are (which you aren’t, I hate to break it to you) then be a real fucking friend.
- T.M. Please stop posting pictures of you in various states of dress (or undress) on your social networking profiles. Both your brother and I happen to check your profile now and then to keep in touch/see what’s up, and both your brother and I have been taken aback and kinda sorta disturbed. Probably him more than me. But still… you running around in your unders in front of me is still a bit different than you posing … like that and subjecting me (and your BROTHER!) to it just b/c I wanna read your blog or whatever!
- Sleep! I wish I could get some.
Note: Yes, this is about someone specific. No, it’s probably not you. I don’t think that the person that it is about even knows about my blog. If said person does, eh… well at least you can take comfort in the fact that I didn’t call you out by name, right? Because, yeah… I’m whining, but that’s because you’re being a bad friend.
I’m as flawed as the next human, maybe even more so, but I do try to make it a point to be a good friend.
So how come lately I feel like I don’t get the same in return?
If I make plans with a friend, even if they are tentative, I will show up – unless something comes up that I have no control over and must attend to. And if that happens, I will not just leave someone hanging.
So how come I don’t get the same?
If someone I care for is upset, especially if it’s because of something I have done, I will stay until we work it out. Even if I’m tired. Even if I have things I’d rather be doing than arguing/fighting/etc.
So how come I don’t get the same?
I’ve zero desire to waste my time crying over someone who clearly doesn’t care. Unfortunately for me, I don’t have a switch I can flick on or off that controls whether or not I care about them. Life would get so much easier if I did.