ground control to major tom.

Disclaimer: I promise that I don’t plan on devoting too many blogs to the unsavory subject of my ex-boyfriend. I’m still sorting through it all in my head, sifting through the wreckage and rubble of my feelings. Thanks to my ridiculous insomnia this week, I was able to devote many hours to piecing it all together. This exhaustion lead to a bad case of delirious double-vision during the last 15 minutes of my yoga class last night. Kind of frightening! To make matters worse, the girl he cheated on me with is now working at UO world headquarters. I get to see her in the cafeteria, at the coffee shop, and even in my own building. I don’t have any ill will towards her, but there is nothing pleasant about being reminded of his undeniable dishonesty and betrayal.

Since his late-night drunken diatribe last week, I have been struggling with one particular recurring theme of his: he believes that I am controlling. He has repeated several times his conviction that I would have thrown him out of our apartment if he had screwed up in any way while we were together. I told one of my close friends about this and she laughed. And then I had to laugh, too….because really, I am the most ridiculous pushover of all time. I tolerate foolishness and lack of consideration to an almost infinite degree. My friend made the point that I would probably have continued to live with him forever, despite any mistreatment. We would have eventually broken up, and I still would have shared an apartment with him, washing his laundry and sleeping on the sofa when he had other girls over…hating myself the entire time.

Argh. As much as I hate to admit this, my friend is correct. The reality is this: despite his seemingly perpetual state of drunkenness and chaos, I continued to silently tolerate it. Dirty dishes and beer bottles all over the bedroom floor? I cleaned them up silently. He drunkenly peed on the bed? No problem, I was stocked up on Febreze. Awakened by late night phone calls because he was wasted and lost? I would save him. I rationalized it all by reminding myself that he had moved all the way from the west coast to live with me in Philadelphia. His minor sacrifice–I say “minor” because he hated Portland–made me feel as if I deserved nothing else from him ever again.

Now I imagine him telling his friends about his “fear” of me and I just feel disgusted. I suppose if one repeats a lie enough, it starts to seem like the truth.

As for my alleged “controlling” tendency, I can only laugh. If I had been dictating his life while we were together, he would have eaten less food from Wawa. He would have been far less drunk. Certainly he would have found a better job. At the very least, he would have cleaned up after himself.

The idea that my letter to him–in which I declared my love–was an attempt at controlling/manipulating him makes me angry. No, angry is an understatement. It fucking ENRAGES me. Like, if I saw him right now, I would use my magical Bikram muscles to give him a non-surgical vasectomy. Or at least, trip him and then laugh. And then I would say this:
“Seriously, dude. Surely you have noticed that the ocean is filled with fish. I have nothing to gain from ‘tricking’ a bloated bottom feeder into swimming away with me.”

Or then again, maybe I would just say, “Why can’t you accept that I am being truthful when I say that I love you? Who did this to you? Who made you unable to believe that people really can feel this way about you?”

Then again…my feelings for him are gone. I would rather hit him than kiss him. I’m not sure if I can ever be nice to him again. I’m disappointed in myself for giving into the seemingly simple feeling of hatred, but at this point self-preservation is necessary.

I guess the “controlling” issue upsets me because it is so far off course. It is the cliché stupid knee-jerk reaction to female strength. Apparently I must be an evil ball-busting bitch because I am smart and semi-successful. My resilience through a wide variety of tragedies and traumas is seen as a mark of evil. The realization that he, the alleged male feminist, would subscribe to this ridiculous notion disappoints me…even if it is a common mistake. Another letdown.


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