I Just Don’t Get It

This isn’t going to be a nice cheery holiday post. I have been trying to find a way to keep this space mostly pleasant and bright, but, it’s my space. If it’s going to be an honest representation of myself then sometimes I’m gonna be less than nice. Very few folks stop by and that makes it a sort of safe place for me to vent a couple things that have really been bringing me back to a place of overwhelming sadness.

I tend to find it necessary to include all the little asides that come into my head when I’m upset. This will  probably be long and rambly with lots of non-sequiturs . You’ve been warned.

I recently ran across this post and it rang so true for me. The idea of being stamped, that somehow, they know how to find me.

I’ve been trying to work on dealing with some of the old shit. Trying to figure out why I can’t feel safe with men. It’s been getting better. I have an old friend who finally helped me see that men can be safe. But, how do I turn off the stamp that seems to glow and attract to me mostly men who aren’t safe?

I had just gotten to a point of feeling strong about myself. I have a laundry list of bad, bad things that have happened to me. I have typically retreated back to safe places, and some moderately self abusive behaviors. My protective layer of fat is back, but it apparently isn’t working anymore. I convinced myself it would be ok to go with some friends and listen to our favorite band and dance. I had realized that whatever crap I’d been forced to handle before, I had indeed, handled it. I come out the other side every time. It’s just that each new time reminds me of every other time, and it’s like I’m practicing the piano. Every time I make a mistake, I start over at the beginning, and it takes longer and longer to get back to a good point.

So, I’m feeling good, even though I am currently inhabiting the fat body. I’m understanding why I was feeling vulnerable and working on getting back to normal size me. I wore the only jeans that fit, and a cute kind of hippie shirt. Square neckline, embroidery, feminine, but no cleavage. I’ve got Cleavage, I just try to down play it. It only causes trouble.

I felt okay about going out with friends. We were going to a bar to see a band, but, it’s not like I’ve ever really meet anyone there. It’s always the same folks, the same groups, but none of us really interact. It’s weird.  It’s St Cloud.
So,  we had taken a break from dancing, and were sitting at our table, when the band played a song I really like to dance to.   It was too soon for my friends to feel the need to dance again. But, undeterred I took to pleading, standing on the floor whining, “come on! come on, dance with me!”  A new group of people were just putting their coats down at the table next to us. 2 men, 2 women.  One of the men said, ” I can’t believe they won’t dance with you!” And, he led me out to the dance floor.  So, okay. I ask about the woman I am assuming he abandoned to dance with me, but, apparently they are all just friends.  He tells me I’m really cute, and that he’s going to make me his.  Riight.

Back at our respective tables, I’m talking with my friends, he’s talking with his.  Every once in a while he kind of playfully hits me in the arm, and says thing like, ” hey cutie! and Don’t forget, you’re mine.”  It was fun for a while, until the 2nd grade like aw shucks hits on the arm turn into grabbing my ass, trying to give me a key to is hotel room,  telling me what he plans on doing to me in his hotel room, sticking his tongue in my ear while he grabs my ass, etc…

He never came out and danced again, never bought me a drink. But, while I was out dancing with some really fun “kids” I watched him do to 2 or 3 other women what he was doing to me.  WTF?!  Not like I was falling for it at all anymore, but what was his game?  He started out like a nice guy.  He’s 35. Why hasn’t he learned that treating women like this gets him nowhere?

I’m angry that assholes like him, make women like me so distrustful of men in general, that we have a difficult time  wanting to bother  with even the nice ones.   Even the nice ones can sour on you.  I used to work at a shelter for abused and homeless women and children.  It is so hard for battered women to leave because, it’s really hard to believe that they could have fallen for somone who turned out to be so cruel sometimes. Sometimes.   It’s all that gray in life that causes problems.

I’m tired of this let’s call it done.