Garrett canceled Monday because he has a “meeting.” 😦 I fought with Max. My life slowly feels like I’m crawling into a hole. I feel disenchanted, in fact.
I’m lonely. But I refuse to budge. Heck, I’d rather be alone and miserable than miserable with company. And that’s what today was: I was with Max AND miserable.
I’m understanding that the problem is me. I’m inflexible. I’m intolerant.
I just don’t want anything subpar to my ideals. Why should I? Why should I settle?
I’m sad that I won’t see Garrett. I’m sad that my night consists of nothing more than me working out, taking a shower and going to bed. Wee. But I know myself: I’ll go out and I’ll get caught up, and then it’s all downhill with my self-improvement, everything I worked so hard for.
If I’m to be honest with you, I’d rather a hot body than a hot boyfriend. I’d rather self-knowledge than a “fun” night out. I don’t care if it’s boring or selfish. I want to work on myself. I ain’t got time for boys, and booze, and sex.
I don’t like Max. He’s annoying and I’m only spending time with him to spend the time. I’d rather be seeing Garrett, but he’s married… and now he’s busy… until the 8th of March. 😦
What a total bummer. Now who will see my gorgeous new hair on Monday?
WHY THE FUCK IS THIS MY LIFE?
Oh, didn’t I just say I don’t have time for boys?
Well, that’s why I declined his offer to hang out tonight, because I could’ve, and would’ve, but Margarita comes first.
I’m not bending forwards and backwards for anyone–especially not a married man, even IF he would flirt with me and buy me drinks. And I’m seriously kind of gung-ho about him; but I know better. I know better than to pursue it. So I’m going home. I’m going to work out. I’m going to sit and face the mirror as I mediate, and face myself, all my demons, and all my flaws–and I’m GOING to learn how to live with myself…
…to live with this shaky, sensitive personality. Am I difficult? Yes, I am! And so what? Difficult women have accomplished much for the world, because they weren’t busy pleasing others.
I’m done with pleasing others.
The other day Vinny and I had a verbal fight and parted on bad terms. And I’m not sorry; I have no shame.
I’m taking me back. Oh, and he told Michael that I’m not the kind of girl you bring home: “Have you seen what she wears? She dresses like a slut. Oh, and she was a sex worker too.” Fuck you mean, Vinny? You trying to say I’m EASY?
He’s not even worth the digital insult.
Anyways, where was I?
I’m taking me back.
There’s a book that’s out and I hear it’s been a seller: “In Praise of Difficult Women.”
Am I difficult? FUCK YEAH.
I scored lowest in Perseverance in a personality test for work today. So true, I know, and it’s hard not to feel bad about myself for this “flaw,” but you wanna know what? I WILL persevere.
I just take a really long time. I am sensitive. I feel defeated easily. But after I bitch and I cry, I wipe my tears, and I get the fuck out there.
So don’t tell me I don’t–won’t–persevere–little ol’ personality test.
By the Sword and the Shield of Joan of Arc, I WILL.