Cheats, Liars and Anger

“Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.” – Maya Angelou

I have a sense that this will be a rage fueled rant of epic proportion.

I am royally pissed off. My closest friend and mentor has been telling me for years that there is always an ulterior motive with men. That message is starting to sink in now and I’m feeling resentful, embittered and enraged at the vast majority of males that I have encountered in my lifetime.

One of the things in the world I hate the most is liars and those trying to gain my trust through false pretenses. It’s dishonest and only makes me angry at the offender. I met someone a little over a year ago at a company function and asked his name. I remembered him at this year’s gathering. It’s part of my job to remember people and also a personality trait. I’m curious. I want to know what people are about. That said, I try not to be invasive and let another person share with me at their own pace.

So, upon seeing the aforementioned person again, he suggested we meet up sometime, as friends and also to discuss psychology because that’s his current area of study, he’s new to the area, etc. In hindsight, there are things that should have been red flags to me much earlier on, but I’m not going to ruminate on what I overlooked. We exchanged a few e-mails and he wanted my number because it was his preferred method of contact. I’m rolling my eyes as I type these words because I’ve heard that line a million times. Like an idiot, I eventually gave it to him.

why? Why? WHY??????

He sent me a text on New Year’s after wrapping up at the event he had worked saying he needed an ‘Irish Lass’ hug. The fact that I didn’t call him out right then and there makes my blood boil a little bit. That was the first indicator that this guy was after something more than his false pretense of friendship. I should also note that he is twice my age and has children older than me. Something is very wrong here. Granted, I do have older friends – but now that I think about it those older friends come in couples, not some prowling male hoping to make it with a gal half his age.

This past Sunday he said he wanted to get together – a kind gesture to pull me out of the state of sadness I’ve managed to wallow in for some time now. I had no idea what we were doing and he didn’t say where we were going when he came to pick me up. I was startled because I thought we would do something downtown and he was driving towards Washington. I asked him where we were going. He told me we were headed to a vineyard in Ridgefield. I have no idea where Ridgefield is, panicked a little and told him that I carry weapons.

There is no point to this photo. Just the intense level of cutenss. 

During the drive, he kept probing me about my life, asking for more details on what I shared with him. This is another behavior I hate. Something is wrong here. If you barely know me, you have no right to ask such personal information about me – you wretched pretentious prick. What bothers me the most about this is that I am a horrible liar and my answers are always honest. I don’t know how to respond any differently. It’s clear to me now that I either need to work on building up my psychological walls or learn to spew untruths with a poker face. I am royally pissed off. Don't examine every detail of my life through a microscope unless you are prepared to be ripped to shreds by my words. 

Can you feel that rage? It's a very real thing right now.

Wine tasting at a vineyard . . .  it was nice. He had packed a picnic saying he wasn’t sure how the weather was going to turn out. Now that I think about it, his explanation makes no sense whatsoever: it was pissing rain all day long. I thought his gesture was kind for going through the trouble of preparing something. As we got in the car I suggested we go back to my apartment, watch a movie and eat his ‘picnic’ meal when he expressed disappointment in the bad weather.

I'll set them on fire myself! He knew what the weather was like. Pretentious bastard.

There had been a nagging question in the back of my mind the entire time I was with him. What is this guy’s angle? What the hell does he want from me? I ask him as much and his response starts with, “I’m a hot blooded male . . . “ and he went on to say that he’d never force himself on me. Holy fucking hell! I should have fled from the moving car right then and there. I don’t know why I didn’t. I wasn’t quite processing his true intentions at the time, I only knew that something didn’t feel quite right: That small voice in the back of your head that tells you to run away. That small voice in my head that told me I should cancel on Sunday until I learned more about this guy. I ignored it. I’m currently angry at myself for ignoring it, but acknowledging that at long last I’m finally starting to pay attention to it, even if it doesn’t have my full attention yet.

Hot blooded male?! I am grinding my teeth in anger!!

I put on a movie and he puts food onto plates. He continuously grazed my knee with his hand, put his arm around my shoulder, asking me to sit closer to him. I was rigid. Any person within their right state of mind could probably pick up that I was tense because I was uncomfortable. He hugged me as he left and attempted to kiss me. I physically recoiled. He didn’t back off and instead said, “Just a small one?” I barely let my lips touch his because I wanted to be far removed from him and, at that time, seemed to be the only way that I would be able to manage to get him out.

Underneath her barley there smile is a woman who desperately wants to punch him in the face. I feel like doing a lot of punching right now. I physically resisted. He is clearly an asshat and he disgusts me.

I decided the next day that I’m ghosting his sorry ass. He’s blocked from e-mail and my phone. I have nothing to say to him. Idiot! I’m past explaining myself and I’m past making excuses for others. That pathetic piece of shit; men like him are the reason I have trust issues. If he was trying to groom me into some form of dependence on him by being so invasive on my life experiences he failed miserably.

I’ve been turning the actions of a former friend over in my mind – the one who demanded to know what was on my heart. When I expressed anger at what I felt was a cross of my personal and emotional boundaries, he became offensive. He told me that it didn’t come as a surprise. If that’s the case, why did he have to hear me say it? The only thing that makes any form of sense to me is that his ego needed that from me. Fuck him and his ego right up the ass.  Apparently my efforts to build him up emotionally weren’t enough, so he had to take it one step further. He sickens me; and I think my anger here isn’t just his disregard for my emotional boundaries, but also when he asked how I was doing and I gave an honest answer he pretty much faded himself out. I guess it was fine for me to listen to his problems but that action couldn’t be reciprocated.

Unfortunately, I think this is the driving force in most of us. 

I’ve been walking around with a consistent form of bitch face – I’m that angry. This is a stark contrast from someone who smiles warmly at the world around her. Lately, I have people who see me on a regular basis ask me if I’m okay . . . . the bitch face is that strong in this one. I also feel like punching things and am avoiding the male population as much as possible to save myself from exploding on some poor, unsuspecting soul who had nothing to do with anything I’m feeling right now.

Yesterday I went through a wide range of emotions as I hashed it all out in therapy. My anger over the actions of these self-proclaimed ‘friends’ who are now dead to me. My anger over the recent antics of the Dirty Faerie Creature (DF) in the office, and the recent news of my adoptive father’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

I’ll start with DF. She involved herself with a man who was sexually coercive and manipulative. It’s now a huge thing in the anarchist vegan feminist biking community. On a tangent, when a vegan and a cyclist are mixed into one person it can only mean bad news. It’s a form of smug self-righteousness from opposite sides of the spectrum that meet somewhere in the middle to create a form of evil spawn that can only be described as the love child of Satan and Hades. Sprinkle in anarchy and feminism with shouts of ‘Fascist!’ and ‘Misogyny!’ and Portland now has a whirlwind of smug self-righteousness that’s sure to drag every last one of us to hell.

Funny, right? Now imagine the love child of those two assholes. 

I know about DF’s experience because she has made a point of telling me about her experience – as well as everyone else in the office. I felt bad for her the first day she talked about it and then that all went down the drain fairly quickly as she started writing posts about her hickeys from a new year’s celebration. It wasn’t just that, but her need to talk about it to me and my office mate that didn’t sit well with me. She said his actions triggered her long subdued PTSD and it was because of this state of mind that she had sex with this guy in the first place. I am by no means an expert of PTSD, but I have dealt with it for many years and I know of not one person with a history of sexual abuse who, upon being triggered, would willingly have sex with someone who has just upset them by inappropriate behavior. Her continual discussions about this topic in the workplace have triggered my PTSD – and that royally pisses me off. I go to therapy once a week. I have put in many hours, a hell of a lot of work, and have paid a significant amount of money to make progress. Perhaps DF should consider going to see a professional instead of using her co-workers as therapists. I discussed this topic at length with my therapist yesterday, wondering if I was a horrible person, a calloused human being because I could not give DF any support. My therapist doesn’t see me in that light, but pointed out how the unchecked behavior of DF that never experiences a form of consequence is frustrating and her topics of discussion are almost always unsettling to me.

I don't think I could have described her better . . . .Misogyny!

For the first time in a while, I visited my adopted family over the weekend. I offered to make dinner in exchange for the use of an iron and ironing board . . . . and I was also dying to try out my new spiralizer. It was during this time that my adoptive mother, Morgan, told me of my beloved Jefe’s illness. I watched how she interacted with him. I’m sure she means well – she just has a way of infantizing others, rendering them to the level of a 5-year-old that is utterly helpless and can do nothing for himself/herself. I listened as she told him, “Look at what I’m doing. I’m writing your hike on your calendar for tomorrow. Tomorrow is Sunday.” I saw the expression of frustration on his face. I know that feeling, I truly do. The problem with a diagnosis is that people do start to treat you differently, despite their protests that it’s just not so. Whether they realize it or not, the label of a diagnosis causes most people to look at the diagnosed in a different light. I’ve been where he’s been in that regard. My adoptive father, Jefe, has every ounce of empathy I have to give.

Over the course of that day, I got the impression that Jefe had simply given up. He’s accepted the label and he’s mirroring the symptoms that others are projecting on him – levels of forgetfulness that have always been a part of his personality, but now ascribed to a disease. Witnessing his surrender, his refusal to keep fighting may be one of the most disheartening things I’ve ever seen.

Don't let anyone tell you who you are. 

My adoptive father and brother gave me a ride home from therapy yesterday. I was in tears when they picked me up. I am past the point of shoving anything down because I don’t think there’s any room. I’m feeling a wide range of intense emotions and it won’t let up. I hate crying in front of anyone and I couldn’t keep it at bay. The traffic was piling up as they drove me home, and I don’t know why, but I wanted to jump out of the car and run until my feet were blistered and bleeding and broken. I don’t know what or where I wanted to run towards, only that I felt suffocated and devastated. 

Today, I feel both anger and suffocation. I don't know how to bring this one to an end and I can't remember the last time I've felt such intense anger and mixed emotions. Maybe I'll delete this entry, maybe I'll print it out and burn it to give me some form of symbolism for burning bridges . . . and liar's pants . . .

Everything and Nothing

“Believe in nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and common sense.” - Buddha

When it comes to healing, I’ve noticed that I’m really only working towards it when I feel tormented. I think I would make a heck of a lot more progress if I were spending time filling my arsenal when I actually have control of my senses. My solution is more self-care. I’ve been stretched way too thin for the last three months and have decided that I need to make more time for myself. It feels like a circus sometimes: appeasing everyone in your life, juggling a full time job in addition to weekend work (I’ve added it all up and it amounts to about 60 hours a week), my dogs, my family, my boyfriend and a hobby that I love, but my boyfriend does not. Half the time I’m just too exhausted to remember what I’m doing, why I’m there and what conversation has literally just taken place between me and another. While it pains me to do so, I’ve had to practice the use of ‘no’ and standing my ground when it comes to allowing myself outlets that contribute to my sense of wellbeing. I imagine when I can finally manage to get my life somewhere near where I’d like it to be, I can strap down and do some of the more in depth healing work – even though the thought of it scares me.

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.” - Tagore

Diseases of the soul are more dangerous than those of the body.

I stumbled across a book recently that has turned out to be a gold mine for healing from trauma, appropriately titled, “The Trauma Toolkit”. The author, Susan Pease Banitt, talks about a central core that we all possess. It is an emotionless observer – the side of ourselves that is calm, watching, and entirely detached when our emotions are heightened out of fear or elation, and I imagine this is why time seems to stand still when we are in the midst of something traumatic. Banitt points to the psychological pioneers, Dr. Brian Weiss and Dr. Roger Woolger, whose extensive research in past life regression has affirmed that there is a part of our consciousness that is never born, never dies, exists outside of three-dimensional reality, and can never be hurt or wounded in any way.

“Meditation is the dissolution of thoughts in Eternal awareness or Pure consciousness without objectification, knowing without thinking, merging finitude in infinity.” - Volatire

I’ve acknowledged that this is something I need to believe. I need to believe that the people I’ve loved so fondly in this life were with me from the very beginning in whatever lives led up to this one and that I’ll find them again in the next. I need to believe that there is a part of us that exists outside of space and time, and this is part of the reason I still feel connected to my father and my grandmother – and somehow this is what has allowed me to have conversations with them when I’m dreaming.

There was a dream I had about my father. I saw him across the room at some sort of social gathering. He was the same age as I am now, which would be a true fact if he had somehow been frozen in time when he died so long ago. I began to argue with him. He couldn’t possibly be real; he was dead. This was his response, “I don’t know who lied to you. I’m not dead. I’ve only been gone for a while.” It still gives me goose bumps, even as I type these words, because that was such a profound message to me. He exists somewhere else, and I exist with him there.

Somewhere across space and time - another celestial shore.

I need to believe in this observant consciousness because I have no other way of explaining why I am unphased by so many, yet I can have inexplicably deep connections with others. My heart leapt at the sight of Pavarti. My soul knew hers, yet we had grown up in entirely different times and continents. I felt something stir in the deepest part of my soul when I met my boyfriend. I had no words for it and even still I struggle to describe it. A running joke between us is that we’ve been dating for ten years. While this is far from true, it certainly feels that way . . . and it kinda looks that way when others watch how he and I interact with each other. There are some that would say this could all be chalked up to chemistry, pheromones, hormones, proximity, Fate, God, the Universe, and so on. I’m, sure those are part of the puzzle as well. However, anyone who claims to know the capacities of the human psyche and depths of the soul with absolute certainty is an arrogant fool. We can never possibly know for certain, can we? The only thing I can say with certainty is that there are certain things I need to believe because those beliefs are comforting to me. It’s comforting to think that the people I love so deeply have never and will never truly leave me.

"Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness we birth our future." - Cloud Atlas

I need to believe in this form of consciousness because I have no other way of explaining how I can be perfectly content with doing everything and nothing into the wee hours of the morning with my boyfriend. I can’t picture a sweeter image. I can’t imagine a safer place than wrapped in his arms. I’ve never felt safer, more treasured, protected or adored. He is my happiness – just the thought of him brings a smile to my lips. I imagine it is this consciousness that makes any time spent away from him feel like eternity – some long drawn out and ancient form of torture. Perhaps it was this consciousness that made me want to run from him in the beginning because my own attraction was pulling me towards him with an intensity that I never knew; and maybe this consciousness will grant us another life together across another span of time.

Aquatic adventures! Remember when I took one for the team? 

“I didn’t want to give you the one last part of myself that I couldn’t take back . . . and then I realized it was already yours. It had been since the beginning.” – Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

You believe it now, don't you? 

Douche Baggery

"Consider how hard it is to change yourself and you'll understand what little chance you have in trying to change others." ~ Benjamin Franklin

This is yet another tale from a chapter in my crazy life. I realized long ago that I have a knack for attracting the odd, inconsiderate, obsessed and self absorbed . . . it must be a gift. I do have some fabulous folks in my life and they are very dear to me. When I think about the 'colorful' people that cross my path on what feels like a daily basis, I am grateful to have such great friends that bring a sense of normalcy to all of the chaos.

I had a recent encounter (several actually) with one who can be considered a vegan douche bag. A vegan douche bag is a vegan who alienates others for not being vegan or not strict enough of a vegan and takes a sickening pleasure in pointing out that something isn't vegan. Vegan douche bags typically enjoy smelling their own farts because they are so smug.

I haven't met many vegans. I do have a cousin who is a vegan, and I love her dearly. Aside from her, the other vegans I've met are self-righteous douche bags. If vegans care about animal rights, support local farmers and eat healthy, why is it that they are consistently such royal pricks (my cousin excluded, of course)? I think the answer is simple - vegan douche bags are completely out of touch with normal people. In order to get a meal that suits their requirements, they will either eat at a vegan restaurant or shop at vegan specialty stores. As a result, these douche bags spend far too much time with other douche bags and the douche baggery acts as a contagious fanaticism that gives one the feeling of superiority over others . . . because obviously they care more about the environment than a meat eater ever could and their actions are more humane, despite how they treat others on a daily basis.

I myself have been a vegetarian for many years. I limit my dairy intake because I'm semi lactose intolerant . . . . and sometimes I cheat on these two things. On rare occasions I eat sushi and will from time to time eat dairy. However, even if I lived this lifestyle in the strictest sense, I would never presume to tell anyone what they should consume, what a horrible thing it is their doing, etc. If one asks me why I don't eat meat, I tell them it's because I think all living creatures should be treated humanely. End of story. I never say anything more than that. Fanaticism in any form is never a good thing, whether it be lifestyle choices, religion, morals, or anything else that is a personal choice or way of life. Things start to decline pretty rapidly when we start to think we're superior to others.

Now onto my story. I met the vegan douche bag a several weeks ago. Vegan douche bag seemed harmless. He had just broke his foot before I met him in person. I knew there wasn't any possible way under the sun that he could physically harm me.  In fact, if he made the wrong move, I intended to step on his foot and run. This was a foolproof plan. What do I do for our first meeting? From talking to him in our brief encounters, it sounded like he was having a rough week. I offered to make him dinner while simultaneously threatening the sanctity of his broken foot should he try anything.

He seemed down to earth, a vegan, an animal lover, open minded and the creative type. Word. I've learned however, that people present themselves quite differently than they really are when initial friendships or some form of relationship is being established. This is something I don't quite understand yet. I've always been an honest and open person. 

I think the evening went well. We chatted while I cooked and then watched a comedy sketch. Thus began a friendship that lasted a little over a two months. Because vegan douche bag had recently broke his foot and had no vehicle of his own, I offered to help him get to class. As a fellow college student, I felt it somewhat of a duty to help another psych major in need. VDB is taking courses at one of Portland's man community colleges and wants to work the GLBTQ community.

Driving him to and from his campus was a whole other thing entirely. I go to PSU in SW. Vegan douche bag lives on the other side of the river and goes to campus in yet another section of town (about a 15 minute drive from his house). This turned out to be a heavy load of driving. In fact, within less than a week's time, I had put 76 miles on my car. I rarely drive my car. 

As it turns out, this didn't just include driving him to and from campus. He needed stops at the grocery store and several outings to find the perfect get up for a vegan prom. I didn't know that events such as this exist, but this is Portland after all. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because I just marched in the first annual Slut Walk.

Vegan douche bag talked to me a lot about his relationships. He's had many. In fact, I'd say he's a bit of a man whore. When I first started hanging out with VDB, he talked about a couple of other gals quite a bit. He didn't say that he was sleeping around with them, but I think I'm smart enough to put two and two together. This later came up in conversation. He seemed surprised that I'd figured out it. Not only did VDB say that he was the 'perfect boyfriend', he also said he has the 'perfect cock'. His exact words, not mine. Umm . . . . why would I care if you have a rooster?

For the record. THIS is the perfect cock. 

The fact that there were other gals in the picture didn't bother me. I didn't want a relationship, only a friend. I ended up not liking what I learned from him and this is sometimes how it goes. He mentioned many of his relationships. I commented that out of my handful of relationships there's only been one that I've ever loved. VDB looks at me with an odd expression in his eyes, "And you walked away?" Considering the circumstances, I think I had to. You can't judge someone without knowing the whole story. On that note, there are two sides to every story, and this is mine.

It starts with his outing to the vegan prom. VDB tells me that he's going out with a group of people he hasn't met before and a gal who is to be his date was heading over to his place to get ready and they would leave together. I went off to a movie screening for 'Happy'. If you have not yet seen this documentary go do so immediately. This is one amazing film. At any rate, I receive a text around 9:30 from VDB asking me to come over right away. I gathered that something really awful had happened, as he was supposed to be living it up doing whatever it is that vegans do at a prom.

I showed up maybe half an hour later and wasn't prepared for what awaited me. VDB was in a fury. He kept going on and on about how he felt 'disrespected' and 'lied to.' The cause for this douche baggery kind of rage? His date was transgendered. She had had the full blown operation. When she broke the news to VDB, he decided he couldn't handle it and didn't want to go to the vegan prom with her. He left her at the bus stop.

As the vegan douche bag continued to carry on about how disrespected he was by this whole scenario, I said this, "Isn't this the line of work you're going into?" I thought it was a legitimate question. VDB took offense to this. I then spent the next half hour assuring him that I wasn't being condescending, I was only trying to understand where he was coming from. To be honest, I still don't understand his point of view.  

Then there were other things that slowly grated on my nerves. Eventually, I realized I just couldn't handle any more of his antics. I told myself that I should be patient and understanding because he was going through a difficult and frustrating time. No doubt nearly going on a date with a transgender left a very deep scar on his psyche. I don't think this can excuse douche bag behavior. I've been going through one hell of a time myself and I've never taken it out on anyone and I never for one instant think that my pain is unique. There are always things in life to be grateful for. Always.

VDB took an odd pleasure in pointing out things that I consumed or purchased that weren't vegan. Soy cheese? "Oh, look. It's got milk protein. It's not vegan." Feather earrings: "When did you buy them? Oh, it was a while ago, so it's okay." Soy caramel macchiato? "That caramel sauce has dairy." There was even a time I reached for a splenda for my tea. His response, "Splenda is bad for you." For the love of all that is sacred and holy! I do what I can. End of story. If I have feather earrings that I like to wear, I'm sure as heck going to wear them. In fact, I may even wear them to a vegan prom just to make a point.

Recycling? This is one that really got me. An excessive recycler, VDB reused damn near everything. I don't see anything wrong with this; in fact, I think it's quite admirable. This is something that I only find bothersome when someone steps into douche bag territory. VDB is a fan of Starbucks.  He reuses his plastic venti cold cups. What makes more sense to me is purchasing a reusable cup in the first place and reusing that one over and over. Not VDB; he has a small collection of these wretched plastic cups. We had stopped at Starbucks and then went to the park. I finished my dairy infused caramel macchiato with soy and went to the nearest trash receptacle to toss my cup. VDB looks at me in disgust, "Isn't that recyclable?" I peer at the cup and can't find a recycle symbol on it and then I reply to his question with a 'no.' VDB then says, "Well, just remember you're contributing to the landfill."

Does anyone know where I can find this product? 

REALLY? The fact that I was hauling your arse around to hell and back, filling up the air with so much pollution that we'd all choke on exhaust, get cancer and then bake under the sun while our lungs rupture and we all slowly die from internal bleeding was not a concern for you, but this one plastic cup is a problem? I think there is a double standard here and I do not like it.

I had a dinner at my house last week. I asked VDB if he wished to join us. It was a thank you for the most awesome TA I've ever met. She's given me so much support. I don't know what I'd do without her. It would have been lovely, but VDB let out his douche baggery in full swing. I didn't hear most of the conversation because I was busy cooking, but I could gather that he was being a buzz kill. It's one thing to be a douche bag to me, but be a douche bag to my friends and family is another thing entirely. I will then save all of your sins against you and blog about them for the world to see. Luckily for the douche bags of the world that I'm not spiteful enough to include names in my antics.

*On a side note, while at my home, I learn that the vegan doesn't care for dogs. How can a self proclaimed animal lover not like dogs? Particularly my dogs. Not to brag, but my two furry ones have won over even the harshest critics. The vegan doesn't like my dogs. He thinks they're smelly and drool. This is true, they are dogs and dogs do have these traits. I love them regardless.*

His douche baggery didn't stop there, either. Here are a couple more snippets from my encounters with the fanatic douche bag. During the process of the brief time I knew him, VDB informs me that his very good friend suddenly died in a car accident. I'm not making light of this. I think it's horrible and I wouldn't wish this kind of thing on anyone. This was all he talked about for weeks. I for one, have experienced so much death in my life that I fear I'm numb to it. I literally have no reaction at all. I listened to what he had to say. I couldn't say anything in response, because I didn't feel any of my words could be uplifting, particularly considering the emotions I was trying to sort out from recent events. VDB then says to me one day, "I don't know if you've ever experienced loss before, but you can't imagine . . . " I quite literally wanted to slap him across the face. He knew that I'd lost a good deal of those close to me at a young age. I think that's an inconsiderate thing to say to anyone,  particularly someone with life experiences such as mine. Again, I don't pretend that my pain is unique, but I do understand what it feels like to lose and grieve.

VDB wanted me to talk about an assault that occurred a while ago, but recent enough for me to still be in the midst of processing everything, trying to make sense of it, and moving on. I honestly wasn't ready for it, but I tried because I figured he was trying to help me. While I reeling from waves of nausea from even letting this unfortunate event cross my mind, VDB says, "You know, you should take back what's yours and just have sex." One can only assume that he meant my sexuality. I have news for you VDB, my sexuality is my own and I'll move on when I'm damn well ready. For now, no one touches me without permission.

Our brief friendship came to a crashing halt when he began to take everything I say far too personally and for no good reason. VDB got a new roommate. She's from Boston. According to VDB, he knows her really well . . . although he only spoke with her online and never met her in person before she arrived. When she arrived, she came with a guy who helped her move in. This really seemed to bother VDB. He was obsessed with his roommate's relationship with this guy. In fact, it's all he talked about. He continued to rant about it one morning while I'm driving and he's in the passenger seat. I say that I just assumed he was interested in her because he was so concerned about her relationship with this guy. VDB is irate. He tells me I can't assume things because it breaks down communication. As it turns out, if I had asked this in a question form, all would be fine in his mind and it really boils down to an issue of semantics.

I could care less who he's interested in. It seemed like the natural conclusion to make in reference to his new roommate  I remember telling VDB that I was meeting up with an old friend for coffee. The first thing that pops out of his mouth is this, "Are you going to sleep together?" I'm not one to be easily offended, but now that I reflect on that scenario, I think I should have been. I'm learning from these experiences; I guess that's all I can ask.

This brings me to the final and last straw. This was the same day I learned that caramel sauce contains dairy and I am a dirty sinner because I didn't recycle one plastic cup. VDB and I stopped and Starbucks and went to the park. After which he wanted to stop off at the bank. He sees a smoke shop next door and wants to look around, then another shop across the street. I'm really not in the mood for any of this, but I'm tagging along because I figured he needed company and needed to be out of his apartment because he didn't seem to care for his new roommate, her boyfriend who stayed for a few days, or anything else in his life.

We make a stop at New Season's. On our way in, we pass a girl juggling on the street for money. She drops and fumbles with her items as we pass by. VDB then remarks, "I think I distracted her." While we're in the store, VDB looks at me and says, "You must be bored out of your mind." I smile and say, "It's no big deal. You have things to do and I have a car." I really didn't mean anything by this. He gets angry with me again saying that I'm assuming he only wants to hang out with me because I have a car. Quite frankly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind until he responded to me with his channeled fury of which I was beginning to grow quite tired. 

This was my breaking point. I rarely get angry and I can't even recall a time when I cussed at another human being out of anger. I told him that he was getting mad over the most stupid f*cking things and he needed to stop. VDB said nothing. He continued walking. We exit the store, I'm walking ahead of him because I can't stand to look at his douche bag face at the moment. He leaves a dollar with the juggling girl and catches up with me.

We then get to my car. He leaves the door open and his foot hanging out. He insists he's done nothing wrong. I tell him to close the door because he's draining the overhead light and I'm ready to leave. I drive him home. He says he's trying to talk to me. I tell him that's not happening and I head home.

Tonight, I received a text from VDB saying he's sorry and we should move past this. I tell him I don't think so. I've got enough on my hands and don't need or want any unnecessary drama in my life. He then responds with this, "I sort of predicted your reaction." Who's assuming now, douche bag?

I think this is only driving the point home that I'm not ready for the dating world whatsoever. Even if it's just hanging out, meeting up for coffee and going to the park while I simultaneously burn a hole in the ozone layer because of the mileage I'm driving. I can't handle this - I have to reconnect with myself first.

I remember thinking when VDB reacted so hotly to the situation with the transgender that he was a dramatic douche bag, but kept telling myself that he needed someone with patience and understanding to help him through his tough time. No, what really happened is that my intuition was correct and I shut it out. When I finally learn to listen to myself perhaps I'll dip my toe back into the water. For now, I'm staying away from the pond.

"Your mind knows only some things. Your inner voice, your instinct, knows everything. If you listen to what you know instinctively, it will always lead you down the right path." ~ Henry Winkler