Here's a quick story that is really no big deal, but I feel is part of a larger picture/problem. Yesterday, i was getting off the train at the same time as a young-ish girl, who seemed to have some trouble negotiating the pavement in her high heels. She started telling me (with no prompting on my part, I assure you) that it was not the shoes, but the fact that she was from Florida and had only been here two days and was unaccustomed with the way people drive. I got all of that in one quick walk across the street. She asked where I live and I pointed up to my apartment and said, "Right there. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand and introduced herself and I said, "See you around." I figure the chances of that happening are about 40-1. I might as well have said, "Nice to meet you, Melanie. I'm Tired and Bitter."
Old me would have jumped on that and tried like Hell to at least get her number. New me is tired. Too tired to pursue. Too tired to do any of it. A friend of mine says that I have been embittered by my past experiences. Well, no shit. But wouldn't anybody?
As a refresher, and perhaps to help exorcise these demons, let me give you a little glimpse into my past experiences. This may sound a bit like a pity party, but I just want people to get the full picture. Some readers will know these already, but what the hell? You've read this far.
When I was about 19 or 20, I was already kind of angry at life because I was diagnosed with diabetes at 18, but i wanted to make some changes, so when I met a girl (whom we'll call "Tigra"), I wanted to impress her so I laid it on think. This caused her to pull away, and eventually drove her into the arms of her ex, who was actually gay (well, this fact was never proven, but he took her to gay clubs, so that makes him gay in my book.) I forgave this transgression, and then Tigra soon fell into the arms (and bed) of one of my friends, causing major upheaval. When I forgave that one, too, she did it again, when I was living in L.A. To get even with my friends, I fake-married her in Vegas. I'm weird like that.
A few months later, I had reached my limit, and a co-worker of mine, we'll call her "Elektra," maybe sensed that, so she expressed some feelings for me, and I ran with that. For almost five years. Elektra and I had some ups and downs, but it was pretty much fine until we moved in together and she decided to stop going to work or school and felt her time was better spent by sitting on the couch and ordering things on my credit card. Lots of things.
As this went on, I started hanging out with a co-worker of mine, whom we'll call "Rogue." Rogue and I had been great friends for years, but it wasn't until things with Elektra were going south that I started to think of her as more than a friend. Naturally, one thing led to another, and eventually, Rogue and I kissed. It was great, I thought, a whole new thing for me. So, I thought it would be best to end it with Elektra at that point, and I did, even though it took me three days. This only served to enrage her, and she began making my life Hell (this was easy to do, since we were still living together). Eventually, she discovered my lapse, and that really sent her over the edge. She tried to make Rogue's life Hell, too, and eventually, when all else failed (Here it comes, the big one...), she resorted to prostitution. Yes, friends, my ex-girlfriend started having sex for money after I broke up with her.
You'd think that would be enough, but as a nice footnote; things with Rogue never really panned out the way I had intended, and she is now dating a WOMAN! Yes, rogue likes women.
The last few years since Elektra and I split has seen a few dalliances, but nothing that I ever put my heart and soul into. Not like I did with these other women. Maybe it was because I was scared, or maybe it was because I was bitter, or maybe I just didn't care. And maybe I don't have it in me to care anymore. But let's just boil it down again; Elektra became a hooker, Rogue became a lesbian and Tigra, well, she never changed. She's the same person she was when she was 20. That may be the saddest case of them all.
So, I'm a little bitter. This is my descent into the dark side. And I know what you're thinking: "Man, we've all been through shit. What makes you so special? It's how you deal with it that makes you who you are." Well, thanks, Dr. Phil, but this is how I deal with it, and I don't think I'm doing that bad a job. But in the women department, yeah, I'm a little gun-shy. Sorry.