So, I just woke after getting home at 9am from the city. My feet hurt, my ankles hurts, my back hurt... The night went from fun, to eh'ish, to just ridiculous. It was the ultimate blow, I swear. Long story short, I somehow lost $20 while drunkenly talking to other drunks... meaning I probably was pick pocketed. We ended up missing bus after bus while trying to get back to a cheap motel, and by the time the bus was coming we were like "Fuck this shit. We're going home."
Now, this was with the full Italian (the lighter one, not the tan one... if it had been the tan Italian, I know it would have been worse because of his anger issues). What's funny is, despite having a good time drinking and smoking with him, my night was blown FAR before I found out I lost the money. My night was blow while sitting on the Piers, overlooking a beautiful skyline, and hearing him say "Out of all my bodies, you're definitely..." I barely heard the rest of the sentence, it blew mine that badly. I know the phrase "bodies" and I know it's used but sometimes I honestly wonder if he thinks before he speaks. Who the FUCK calls someone a "body" to their mother fucking face? I tried to tell myself to blame it on the alcohol, but that only makes it worse, because drinking really just takes away inhibitions, meaning that's what he's thinking, no matter what. After hear he said that shit, he noticed I was pretty much chugging my Jack Daniels and Coke and laughed. It all honesty it was because that term fucked with my head so badly that I need to drink to be able to function properly.
Like, I have a few fuck buddies, this everyone knows, but when you say it like that it just sound fucking dirty. It kind of made me feel gross. Like, God... I have no idea why it's STILL bothering me so fucking much. What's funny is, the drunken couple we were talking to later the that night were fighting. Of course this kid was going all Mister Macho on the guy, until I was kind of like "Go the fuck away, both of you, and let me talk to him." One of my problems is that I'm probably one of the most caring people in the world. Despite my "I don't give a fuck" attitude I show, I really do. I know he was a drunken therapy bill... but fuck so am I. So sitting with him in midtown while his girlfriend and the Italian go smoke, and hearing him cry about not having anybody... it made me cry too. His girlfriend was kind of a nutcase, abusive, and wildly controlling, but, no matter how many times she punched him, slapped him, or pulled his mustache until there was blood, he still loved her. Talking to him, hearing him say how much she means to him, despite the pain, and hear him scream to her "Why do you wanna hurt me?" reminds me so much of one my ex's it's almost scary. I like to think I was over that ex' but I guess you never get of them, huh?
When I was far too young to know better, and too proud to ask for help, I dated someone far too old for me. I mean, don't I always date someone far too old for me? But this was not only illegal, but dangerous. He seemed amazing, and too good to be true... which he was. Once he had the naive, love sick teenager that I was completely and totally hooked, he became a nutcase. I mean I'm a bit off center, but he was bonkers. It was like he was trying to break me. I know he was, actually. But he never could completely, at least not in my eyes. I remember him telling me that I wasn't ever good enough, that my biological parents didn't want me (I'm adopted) and that no one else ever would, because I was a fuck up. I remember ALMOST believing him too... but I had an amazing friend who never would let me. We actually someone live together right now, and he's so protective of me because of that. I think the worse was when he came home (to his house, we were younger) to find me on his porch, a nice welt on my face, and more on my back to match it. Of course, he was furious. I was like his little sister. But what I remember was being curled up, with him screaming at me, and just sobbing. He was yelling at me "God, why are you so stupid? Why the fuck would you let him do this? Are you fucking serious?" and all I could think was "He's right. I am stupid. Stupid as fuck, because I still love him. Why the fuck does he want to hurt me? What's wrong with me..." It was the absolute lowest place I've ever been because I bought into my ex's bullshit. And, after a lot of counseling, I'd like to say that I've overcome that. But, obviously not because all I can hear in my head is my ex's voice saying "You're a stupid whore, that nobody but me will ever love. You'll never be enough for anyone, no one else would put up with you, not for long. You're parents didn't even want you."
And what pissed off most was the fact that at the end of the day, while riding the bus home, and thinking about his "bodies" comment it made me cry a little on the bus (but I don't like looking weak in public so I sucked it up). Now, I thought that it was maybe because I was still drunk. Obviously it wasn't, because 7 hours later, and mostly sober, I woke up, and it still bothers me. And it bothers me that, after that horrendous night, I still wanted to fuck. Like, God, I feel every bit of the useless, piece of shit my ex called me. Which, of course, makes me pissed at myself even further. I'm grown, that shouldn't still bother me, correct? Or at least I shouldn't let it show.
My mother always told me that there would be a point where it wasn't the sex you were worried about, the emotions the next day. So why do I feel like I'm getting those emotions... 5 hours late?
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