Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Oh. I get it now.

After the 6 hours I just had, I really, really get that whole thing about new york being really fucking small. especially if you're a lesbian. and tegan and sara are in town.


the short version is that SC was there. not only there but also at the bar where we all hung out before hand. Elle, my girlfriend, who knows all about what happened between me and SC, was also there. This was not comfortable. But that's not really even the worst part, at least not for me.

The worst part, for me, is that 10.0 was at the concert tonight. I was not prepared for this, and freaked out. For almost a year I would mentally prepare myself before going Major Lesbian Events for the possibility that I would run into her, such that the few times that I did, I was able to brush the whole thing off pretty easily, because I was, in some small part of my brain, expecting it and steeled for it.  This was not one of those times.  Which is good, in that I've stopped preparing myself to survive crossing her path, I think that shows great progress, don't you think? But today I wish I had prepared.  I was not ready for her to breeze by and call out to me.  I was not ready for her to (quite rudely I think) hang around when I was frantically trying to get a drink and GET AWAY FROM HER and trying to not have my girlfriend see me losing my shit--she asked about my job, my life, and attempted to tell me about hers in ways that I was not really digging as I broke into a flop sweat (a telltale sign that I'm really NOT doing well). It was the worst.  I don't understand why it was the worst, and hate that it was the worst, but it was. The. Worst.

It felt like a PTSD reaction. I felt triggered and had an extremely strong urge to flee. I barely remember the order of events, or what was said. I'm acutely aware of the presence of Elle and 10.0 in the same space and it feeling bizarre and surreal.  I was aware that when I introduced Elle to 10.0 (by name), 10.0 said "oh, hello girlfriend." I found this obnoxious. I'm aware that when 10.0 asked me if I "liked my job" I just said "no" and then possibly didn't respond when she asked follow up questions because I DID NOT WANT TO TALK TO HER.  I am aware that once I had managed to get my hands on a drink, I did not waste any pleasantries on her as I fled with my drink, my girlfriend, and the last shreds of my dignity.

Seeing her brought up all sorts of badness. It reminded me, all at once, of that whole confusing painful year of my life, 2 years ago now (which is quite jarring in and of itself, that it's been two years since all of that). A year in which she played a pivotal role, which I hate, because--why her? Which I hate because it makes me feel like an idiot, that I was in love with her. Why? And also, was I really? Or was it lust? I don't even know her, and what I do know tells me clearly that I should have stayed far away. (If you're confused as to why, just follow this link, and start from the beginning. Uck.)  Seeing her reminded me of what a fool I was, and how I felt so played by her. And so hurt. But then I feel so confused. If she hadn't been there, when would I have realized my truth? If it hadn't happened when it did, where would I be now?? And so there's that too...but more than that, the terrible unresolved blob of questions and hurt and embarrassment that lies in the wake of that year when I saw her almost every day.

And then of course this cast a terrible pall over my night with Elle. We were at a t&s concert together for the first time. Something that was so great, and exciting...covered in previous-life shit. I felt so terrible. Impotent and out of control (as Cher would say).  I hated that I had just been traumatized, but hated more that Elle had to deal with any of this at all. My shit had also ruined her night, our night. This is what I feel worst about.

And then I read back over some of the things I wrote about 10.0. 2 years ago, yes, but still. I hate reading it. It is jarring and embarrassing and sad.  And I think "I don't write like this, I barely write at all, when I'm in a good, healthy, safe relationship. What the hell does that say about me?" I don't have an answer to that question yet, but the answer can't be anything good, I'm afraid.

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