Mean Girl

I spent most of the evening curled up on Sir’s lap in the big armchair that we moved in yesterday from our old place…  sobbing… over Michael.

And I’m so frustrated with myself and I’m so… hateful… to myself…  I’m angry that I haven’t spoken to this man in almost five years, and I can still spend two hours crying over him.  I’m so angry that… I’m so angry that I ever loved him.  I’m so angry that I ever let someone like him close enough to hurt me.  I’m so angry that I believed him when he said kind things to me.  I’m so angry that I believed him when he said he loved me.  I’m angry that I submitted to him, I’m angry that I… was deferent to him.  I’m… angry that… I allowed myself to be so weak with him… that I allowed my sickness to become so… uncontrolled… with him.  I’m so…

I’m so… embarrassed at myself.  I’m embarrassed for how I behaved, how I acted, what I put up with, what I believed…

I’m embarrassed that my friends witnessed it.

I’m embarrassed that I was in love with someone.  And that I chose so badly.  And I feel foolish.  And I feel like being in love made me foolish.  And… I feel like… I am with Sir now because… I’m NOT in love with him.  I love him deeply, but I’m not… in love…  I never had, never will have, that silly, foolish, embarrassing… irrational feeling for him

And that makes him safe.

Being in love was like being bipolar… like being at the mercy of the wind, fickle and shifting and unrelenting…

It was like being bipolar… like being drunk… acting foolish and stupid and not able to stop myself.

And maybe if he’d been the right person… I could forgive my foolishness.  But he was so… so… so… wrong.  He hurt me so much.  And I wasn’t innocent.  I made him crazy.  I made bad choices, I… struggled… to hold onto myself with him.  I had so much fear and insecurity with him… especially after the second time he disappeared.  I could never get my trust back, but I loved him, and loving without trust made me clingy and gun-shy.  It made me flinch at every possible slight, it made me doubt everything between us all of the time, and it made me… so… weak.

And I am so… disgusted by myself.

Sir doesn’t say angry things about Michael.

I know that he is or was furious about things Michael did.  I know that he thought Michael… made bad choices… and harmed me… and I don’t know if that’s something Sir has ever forgiven.  But he isn’t unkind.  He doesn’t say mean things.  He doesn’t look hard or mean when I talk about Michael…  And I realized…I am so grateful for that.

I don’t need his anger or his hate.  I don’t need anyone to tell me how horrible Michael was or what a terrible person he was.  I loved with him and I stayed with him despite… overwhelming evidence that I shouldn’t.  For Sir to say how awful Michael is, would just make me feel more foolish, more disgusting, more weak…

He doesn’t.  He doesn’t even tighten his jaw when I talk about him.  He just looks sad and holds me and tells me he’s sorry for my pain.

He holds me and he comforts me.

But all I can do is hate myself.

I don’t know how to move past this.

It’s been five fucking years!  I don’t want this in my life anymore!

Sir says I can’t do anything with it when I’m so unkind to myself…

But I can’t change that, either.

I’m stuck.

All I can do is go back to pretending this part of me isn’t broken… that I don’t choose to live with two gay men because I am fundamentally damaged in trusting love.  Go back to pretending this is the best I can do with my life… acknowledge that it’s pretty damn good, and… acknowledge that I’m broken and I’m lucky to have what I do for as broken as I am.

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