i wanted to write about how the cystoscopy went this week but i'm actually tired about writing about how terrible my health is and how there aren't any answers for me. the good news is that everything came back normal and they took another urine sample. they put me on 3 days of a new antibiotic to prevent any new infection from occurring and to kill off whatever infection remained.
in the meantime, i'm still waiting for complete feeling and mobility of my left leg and foot to come back entirely and not feel like constant pins and needles. i don't know why it ended up happening this way, but i am not impressed.
great. now let's go on to what is currently keeping me awake:
infidelity.
no, i'm not in a relationship. but i remember when i was. i remember when i was some dude's girlfriend, and i almost want to use that term loosely, since there was never a distinct indication of the time we seemed to go from coworkers to friends to out one night to walking me home to in my bed to seeing each other to wait, what, i'm now your girlfriend to uhhh i don't know how i feel about this to god only knows what.
and 3 months later, that's what it was. i was officially a girlfriend because i was told. i didn't have an opinion in the matter. and i guess you can say that's likely when it all started to go downhill and i realized we were totally wrong for each other. i started wandering off. i started hanging out with dudes where i knew something would happen, because it always did.
and right around this time, this dude, who i was the apparent girlfriend of, and we had been together for four months, decided to tell me that he was in love with me.
me.
he was in love with me.
you want a sure way to ruin everything? tell a commitaphobe 4 months into barely dating that you're in love with her. yeah, see how that goes.
i always had a sneaking suspicion that he was beginning to know what i was up to some nights when i went out. i was young. i wanted to go out and see my friends. he was a homebody. he wanted to see his friends. i hated his friends. i hated his family. i hated being with him. i hated how every other dude in my life made me feel better about myself - even if there wasn't anything between us at the time. i hated knowing that he told me he loved me and i didn't say anything back. and never did. i hated knowing that i was going to have to break up with him. but i couldn't. i was stubborn and he was in love. i knew he was the one that would have to break up with me in order for this to work out in my favour.
so, i started hanging out more with my friends. and he started hanging out more with some of his new friends. one of his classmates. a girl. a girl who was married and old and "ugly" - his words. he told me she was not his type. but i'm not even sure he knew who his type was. they would do lots of things together. and when time came for us to do the long distance thing, she brought him to see a jays game once and then i met up with them. it just seemed odd that this married woman was hanging out with this 22 year old dude. but as i was looking for a way out, i didn't care.
more months passed and then i got a text from him saying that some girl at a party kissed him. well, hey! here's my way out! except, fuck that. i knew i was better than breaking up with him over text. so, i let it slide. and kept doing what i was doing. i wasn't sleeping around but just keeping my options open. a few weeks later, i came home and was making every excuse not to see him. eventually, he was fed up and broke up with me through a text message. really, dude? uh, okay. you do that then. he obviously took it a lot harder than me (as they.. always tend to do.. i'm just heartless or something) and had to unfriend me on facebook and all that.
and from time to time, i'd lurk a profile or two. guess who he's dating now? that married girl. she might even still be married. i don't fucking know or care. it's just bizarre. and well, at least i know now that i had a right to be suspicious of them in the first place.
i say all of this because in the last year or so, i've been propositioned on more than one occasion to get with married/committed dudes. all with psycho wives/girlfriends. talking to them is one thing. sexting is another. but i don't see what i'm doing or what they're doing as wrong or cheating. it was only when i physically kissed other dudes - that was my line drawn on the cheating curve. yes, i talked. yes, i flirted. yes, i wanted it all. but until there was something physical, i was convinced i was never in the wrong. and currently. this is sort of how i continue to feel about the opportunities i'm presented with.
some have been going on for a year. some come and go in monthly intervals or when i'm mostly just feeling down. some i've even turned down because i don't want to get involved. i'm all for open marriages and open relationships. i'm all for primary partners and polygamy. i've been there. i've done that. and actually, it's kind of nice. gone are the days when one person can give the other what they need. but any of the ones i've been involved with have yet to become physical. in fact, it gets a little hard to believe when a much older, married man, tries to explain to me how much he cares for me. that isn't what i signed up for. and it doesn't necessarily make me feel better about myself when a sketchy, old, married man with kids is saying these things to me.
i'm not a naive girl. and it's because i tend to get myself into these situations over and over again that i know when and how to get out of them. participating in someone else's infidelity is not my fault.
i only wish i knew that earlier.
