( Saturday, Oct. 29, 2005 2:29 pm )
>Save the drama for your mama
So, anyway, I'm full of something--anger or...no, mostly anger. I've tried reading the excellent Star magazine headlines, but the only thing for it is a long boring rant.
I just keep accidentally learning more and more about Davy's previous "relationship" with some chick who he was friends with and then apparently in love with, and she wasn't into it, and I keep stumbling into their irritatingly self-involved correspondance about the issue. My Freudy-sense is telling me Davy wants me to find these things, and I've held out from reading 2 letters already, but the final straw was last night when he handed me a box of papers (ticket stubs, brochures, maps, etc.) from our trip for the scrapbook I'm making, and of course there was a letter from her and Davy's reply in the box!!! And I gave up, man, I STOLE them and brought them to my place and just read them. I snapped like a twig. And now I'm pissed. Because the letters show that they probably have not written since the spring--but that's still Davy obsessing about some other girl while we're together (even if he is telling her he's mad at her, it still takes up 3 pages and who knows how much of his mental energy). And stuff from this girl is not that hard to find--CD mixes on his computer and CD collection, and letters from her or to her popping up in places that it's not unlikely that I would see them.
It just makes me angry that he's the typical "nice guy" that I have met so many times before, so nice and so sensitive that they obsess over every girl who comes their way. So sweet that they have to contemplate and re-contemplate every failed "relationship" even when it's painfully obvious that what happened was--you tried to mack on every single girl who hangs out with you, and when they said no, you continued to stick around and torture yourself and call it "friendship," because you don't have enough experience with women and therefore self-respect to know it's not cute to want to wallow in hopelessness. I even learned that, back before I met him, he was interested in a friend of his/ours who is now dating his brother Jim. I wondered at the time why he was so upset about it, and now I know why--Nice Guy Syndrome. He likes to sulk and be the victim.
In a way, I should be thankful that he is the Nice Guy, because I broke things off with him a little while after we started dating, and he still sought me out and wanted to talk to me again--classic Nice Guy. But I recall why I was afraid of him at first--because he was so clearly the Nice Guy. Someone who it would be very hard to detach from. My co-workers nicknamed him "the stalker." After we went out, he started leaving me notes, and once after we broke up, a mix CD, on my porch--sweet, but creepy. Oh, and now I also found out that that mix CD from back then, was, you guessed it, that chick's!!!! Something she made for him for his birthday, as a musical letter describing her feelings towards him (BARF). And he gave it to me. Barf.
So I'm pissed. And let me just tell all you Nice Guys who complain about how cruel girls are to you........stop trying to have a big romantic scene with girls who just want to be your friend or your acquaintance, and when you get turned down, have the balls to stop seeing that girl! I know it's hard to have self-confidence if things have not worked out for you in the past and continue not working out in the present, but just have faith that it will if you play your cards right. I know there are plenty of hot, nerdy, inexperienced, and extremely horny girls out there, so just be patient. And most importantly, devote as little energy as possible to sulking, moping, rehashing, and obsessing, or if you do these things, have a sense of humor about it! Jesus.
And maybe try to meet girls who went to college with mostly other women.
Seriously, young people, this goes for everyone--let go of the soap opera. It demeans us all.
P.S.--Horror. Our trip to Europe--our exciting, jealous-making hippie wandering--corresponded with Davy's chick's wedding. Did he plan it that way on purpose? I would bet a million dollars he told the chick about our travels in some way.
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