This was my night. I went out with some of my classmates to celebrate Hilary’s 21st birthday. We had dinner, and then some of us went ice skating. It was nice. I had a great time, and I wasn’t even nervous really. Jaime held my hand and ice skated with me for a little while because she’s really good and I’m really bad. I fell three times, and the last time I fell, I sprained my calf, bruised my palm, and busted my ass. Ice skating isn’t my thing, but I’d do it again if I got to go with these girls.
It’s nice to go out and be social. This is new.
This bothers me. For a lot of reasons.
First, because he’s an ex, and those nice things feel uncomfortable to hear from anyone other than Matthew.
Second, that he admitted them after I asked him a one-worded question. I’ve been asking Matthew to tell me how he feels since before he left, begged him by May, and have brought it up periodically since then, and he still hasn’t told me anything.
Third, because I was thinking about him the same day he texted me. About how he would’ve spoiled me, and treated me like a princess, and would have tried his best to do everything he could to make me happy, but how I never felt anything for him at all. How I didn’t even want to date him, but I still did because he was so persistent. About how I feel like the tables have turned and now I’m in his spot, loving someone who didn’t want to love me, trying and persisting when he told me he didn’t want me, or anyone. Trying to give him everything that I possibly can, even though he doesn’t need anything from me. Wanting to be with him, still, even though he doesn’t want to put forth any effort to have me.
I asked him to tell me what I mean to him, how he feels about me, that I’m important to him, that he needs me, if he does. I need to feel loved and appreciated and missed. I need to feel like I’m special, like I’m set apart from the rest, like I’m worth the effort of simple, sweet gestures— like sending me a letter from Afghanistan. He’ll be back in less than a month, and he never even finished writing me a fucking letter.
And the worst part is that I keep forgiving and excusing him because I hope that he’s going to do something really big, something really special for me when he gets back, but I know I’m being foolish because he’d never do anything like that for me because it requires thought and planning and effort, and I’m not worth any of that.
I had a nice weekend with the babies, despite my uterus’s best attempts at causing me misery.
Did I mention that I found the most precious, loving little baby about a month ago? He was eating something that was smushed into the middle of the road, and didn’t get out of the way when I drove by, so I took him in and have loved him ever since.
Matthew asked me a few weeks ago what I looked like with dark, heavy eye makeup. I told him that I didn’t look very good, but that I would do my makeup like that for him just to show him.
So today, on a whim, I decided to go for it, fully expecting to hate it completely because it’s always looked bad on me in the past. Except for, I realized, it always looked bad in the past because I didn’t do a smoky eye and because I never got my eyelashes big enough.
But once I finished, and looked in the mirror, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I didn’t look horrible and that I even felt sexy.
This isn’t a look that I will do often, but it’s nice to know that I can pull it off, should I choose to do it again.
And Matthew must’ve told me about 50 times in two hours how much he liked it, so that was a big plus.
So I just made my first 3D .gif out of pictures that weren’t taken with the purpose of making a 3D .gif, so I’m pretty psyched. :)
More pretty things in my Mema’s yard
My Mema’s got the prettiest yard.
I’ve got some beautiful siblings.