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.
… which is why I’m making heavy use of the spell check right now, and why I am not going to say TOO much.
To My Loyal Reader: Just so you know, what I really wanted to say is simply that I understand. And that I wish that I could make that one thing all better, but I know I can’t. I’m also going to apologize (again but) publicly for giving you a hard time. I’ll do better, but I will still keep fishing. 
I have the world’s… possibly the universe’s… best guy. Shall I tell you why? Because, seriously, the list could go on forever and ever.
And every day, I am more and more amazed, and I have to wonder, “How did I get so lucky?”
Oh, I mean, I’m not knocking myself there. Honestly, I’m not. I am fucking fabulous and anyone who tells you otherwise is just, I’m sorry, wrong! Was that cocky enough? Seriously, though, let me ‘splain. Fuck you, spellcheck! ‘splain is so a word, and it’s properly spelled.
My track record is pretty lousy. I mean, really, really, really lousy. We’re talking just epic fail all the way around. I mean, I had a few nice ones, one that I’ll always look back fondly on with a girl I’ll call Jayelle, which was short but sweet, and just didn’t last because we had lots of stuff in common, but way different goals and ideals, and they didn’t mesh. We’ll just highlight the really spectacularly bad ones, and start with the first person I was seriously involved with…
emT: I will give him credit and say that he was not a complete fuckwit.
(WTF Spellcheck! Fuckwit is so a word!) I call him “emT” here because a) he was one [an EMT] and b) his first name started with a T. Like I said, he wasn’t a complete fuckwit. But that’s about all I
can say for him. He was sometimes prone to forgetting super important shit… because mostly he was too preoccupied with himself. He drove a car he seriously couldn’t afford, he will probably be paying that car off for the rest of his natural life. Possibly for significant portions of his Afterlife. He was
not compensating for anything, was probably in need of penis reduction. Ow. Fuck. Er, better yet, let’s not.
DR: No, he wasn’t a doctor. Those just happen to be his initials. Was emotionally abusive and horrifically controlling. Was actually a troll, too. Found out the hard way that he was cheating on me, but at least I got the better Valentine’s gift. A pretty amethyst ring, that yes, I still wear because that fucker also has diamonds on it, and why the hell shouldn’t I at least have gotten something nice out of the deal? She got flowers. She also got an email two weeks later that read, “Hi, you don’t know me very well, but do you know where your boyfriend’s cock has been today? In my mouth.” Probably not the nicest thing I ever did. Maybe someday I’ll actually elaborate on that story, but since it’s not really one of my prouder moments, probably not.
Bane: Fitting nickname, and actually one of his choosing. He had dreams of being involved in Ultimate Fighting & shit like that. Thankfully, I will at least grant that he never hit me. After him mooching off of me for a long time while he “pursued his dream,” I did finally get smart. Laying around playing video games all day is probably not going to get you far no matter what your dream is, but since his only 2 activities EVER were playing games and “training” – meh. “Want to go out with our friends?” “No, I have to train after I beat this level.” Gah. When I finally called it quits with him, (we happened to be 3 blocks from my house, in MY car) he refused to get out of my vehicle, and so I left it and him parked at the, uh, park, and walked my ass to a phone to call Dad to pick me up. Bane did follow after me begging me not to call Dad, but fuck that. Dad was none too impressed with the fuck who wouldn’t get the hell out of my car. I mean, it’s not like I tried to drop him off in Bumfuck, Egypt.
XH: Physically abusive. A real charmer, right up until … You know what? I really am not prepared to cover this one. I’m just not.
Spunk: You know what sucks so hard about this guy? At heart, he’s a good person. Would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. Would give you the shirt off his back if you simply wanted it. But, it’s not a good enough reason to excuse some other behaviors. It’s not a good enough reason to excuse the fact that he was insanely jealous. It’s not a good enough reason to excuse the fact that he eventually became very obsessive after I broke up with him. Not a good enough reason to excuse the fact that he was still trying to “get in my pants” after we broke up, and after he was seeing someone new…
And after all this, I had basically convinced myself that I didn’t deserve a great person to share my life with. I was so convinced of this that once, it almost completely ruined what I have with KH. There was a significant chunk of time that he refers to as “The Pause” where we didn’t so much as talk to one another… all because I was so scared that I wasn’t “worth it” and that he deserved better; I was damaged goods, and more trouble than he should have to deal with. So convinced that the bottom was going to fall out on me that instead of waiting to see if it did, I kicked it out. Wasn’t it better to know when it was coming, and be prepared, than to get comfortable and then caught off guard?
Believe it or not, though, this is not about dwelling on the past. Rather, it is about learning from the past, and appreciating the present, and looking forward to the future.
I believe I am going to have a wonderful future with KH, and the present is not too shabby at all. 
Here’s to having someone to grow old with. The right someone to grow old with.
… and that’s ok. When you read what I have to say here, you may very well think I’m crazy, too. Still ok. 
Was having a conversation with Boon (yeah, hence the category this is assigned to) wherein he confessed that he had been afraid to tell me something.
Afraid. Afraid?!
Now, I’ll give you that I have a reputation for being, as he says, a bit of a “spitfire.” I’ll give you that when irritated, I have made grown men cry. But, I’m not really that scary. Not really. Especially not with the people that I love unconditionally. And boy, do I love my Boon.
He’s like my brother.
So, when he ‘fessed up about the thing that he was apparently afraid to tell me, and I didn’t tear him a new asshole, he was surprised, and I gather, relieved. And the thing that he was so afraid to tell me?
That he’d passed leadership of his/our WoW guild over to another member. And no, it wasn’t that he was afraid to tell me because he didn’t make me the GM. Honestly, that’s not a job I want. 
I told him, “It’s not as if I needed that to have you. You’re still mine.” And he said “Always.” Aww. At least he gets me, even if maybe no one else would.
As sad as it is for me to write this, on some levels, because it means “the end of an era” – ok, maybe not anything as grandiose as that – it’s a change to something that, once upon a time, I was very committed to and involved with. I remember pleading with Boon, who at the time I knew as “Khadinan,” to start his own guild, because whatever he was doing in WoW, I wanted to tag along with him.
(Boon is definitely a kindred spirit… someone who I just felt close to right from the start, you see.)
And, at the start, the guild was everything I’d wanted it to be, and hoped it would be. A group of like-minded players who really enjoyed hanging out with one another… for the most part. There are a few people who made their way into the ranks of Duskwing that didn’t really belong there at all, but I guess there’s a reason I have a reputation for being a spitfire. The ones that didn’t really fit, never really stuck around.
Lately, though, partially due to my own WoW inactivity (on the Alliance side, anyway) and partially due to huge growth within DW, I feel as if I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t belong there anymore. I can look at it, now, and be proud to have been involved, and be proud of what it’s become, but it’s just not the same. And that’s ok. Everything changes, after all, and all you can do is hope it’s for the best.
Except, some things won’t change, because I won’t let them. Boon is mine. Always.
Mine as in, my friend, my brother, my family. All my friends are mine. And I am theirs. And that’s just the way it is. I’m not sure how any of them feel about the way I express my love and appreciation for them; they probably think I’m crazy. But that’s ok, they manage to love me back anyway, and for that I’m so very grateful.
Well.
Listen, I’m a nice girl. I’m downright sweet most of the time. But if you persist in fucking with me, eventually I’m going to lose patience with you.
Not that I’m all that patient with The Crazy Cunt from Hell, aka JK, in the first place.
As a general rule, I don’t like to pick on people for things that I know that they are sensitive about. I don’t make it a habit to be cruel to people who have any kind of physical difference/impairment/handicap (and can I just say too, that I really dislike the term “handicap?” I really despise that word… and I couldn’t begin to tell you all the reasons why, it would take me too long). However, JK has a cleft palate, amongst other things, and it is terribly hard for me to understand her over the phone. In person, I can understand her speaking because what I miss just by listening I can compensate for by watching her mouth as she forms words. Over the phone is a whole different story, for obvious reasons.
She refuses to believe me when I say I can not understand her, but there’s no lie there. Earlier, I completely lost my temper at her and said some truly hateful and appalling things about the way she sounds. (I’ll ‘fess up; after repeatedly asking her to either contact me via Yahoo or the like, or to put WF on the phone and let him explain what the hell the major malfunction is, and being told that I am lying about my inability to understand more than a word or two of what she says, I told her “Look, honestly, you constantly sound like you got a mouthful of dick, and I can’t make out a damn bit of it.”)
At the moment, she is busy accusing me (repeatedly) of “hacking” her MySpace account, and is demanding that I give her her password. I don’t have her password. Mind you, the only reason that I can even tell you that this is what her current issue is is because she finally sent me text messages to inform me that I had better give her her password or else. Now, I will admit that her user name and password is stored on the PC in the family room – she did that herself – but that definitely doesn’t mean I know her password, because it’s still ***’ed out, even if it is stored. Yes, I’ll admit that I could access her account if I wanted to, but I have zero desire to do any such thing.
So, the fact that she can’t login to her MySpace (or so I gather) has nothing to do with me. Am I willing to accept that it’s entirely possible that someone else in this house had something to do with it? Sure, I can accept that’s possible. I can even accept that it’s likely. That, though, has nothing to do with me! Since I’ve said repeatedly that I don’t know anything about it, you’d think that she could get that through her head and maybe start asking if someone else has any idea what might have happened. She might also try exercising her brain a little and hitting the “I forgot my password” link!
Aside from all of this, there is the constant harassment and name-calling that comes from her end. I admit I haven’t been Mary Fucking Sunshine with her, but I’ve tried to be civil, and tried to see if there was some sort of truce we could come to, etc. I’ve tried really hard, but being nice has gotten me nowhere with her, so I’ve long since given up on that. And even though I’ve admitted to saying truly appalling things, she attempts to hit me with something hurtful every single time she makes contact. She’s called me a slut, a whore, given me shit about how my Dad isn’t “really [my] dad” (and disregards the fact that her boyfriend calls his grandmother mom, and his grandmother’s husband [no relation to him at all] dad), and basically been shitty about absolutely everything she could.
Yet she wants something from me. Nevermind that it’s something I don’t even have, she’s being an abusive twat and she wants something from me.
I’m at a loss here. I’ve been ignoring her text messages for nearly two hours now, and yet she keeps sending them. Last night I had 60ish texts, and looks like tonight will be no different. I could shut off my cell phone, but they’d be there when I turned it back on. It’s no big deal, I guess, I do have an “Erase all” option, which I’ve been making liberal use of, but what the hell kind of pathetic person just continues to send messages when it’s obvious they’re being ignored? Am I seriously considering changing my phone number? Yes. But I shouldn’t have to.
Damn. How is it that I always seem to find the juveniles roaming about in the bodies of adults?
Bottom line is, I just want this shit to come to an end. I don’t like her, I don’t like WF, neither of them impressed me much as human beings the entire time they were here. They are bottom-feeders, in my honest opinion, and I feel awfully sorry for the child that they brought into this world.
Some people’s children, I swear.
Update: It finally stopped! After about 200 text messages total over two fucking days, it finally stopped. A lot of hateful shit was said on both of their parts; everything from trying to make me feel bad about the fact that I’m not blood-related to Dad, to taking cheap shots at the fact that I can’t have kids.
The thing is, I’m rather surprised about how much I don’t care what they think. I’ve vented about it here, of course, because being texted 200 times in 2 days by people who are being hateful is rather annoying, but none of what they had to say really phased me.
“The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.” ~ Elie Wiesel