A long time ago, I knew this girl, whom I'll call "H." Well, looking back, I don't think I ever really knew her at all. Afterall, how can you know someone when they don't even know themselves? Allow me to explain if you will.
We met at our place of mutual employ, a movie theater in Washington state. H seemed like a great person. She had a good sense of humor, was easy to talk to, pleasant to look at, and was always just herself. And to top it all off, she liked me, and I liked her. We'd hang out after work, somtimes at her house, sometimes at my appartment, sometimes out in public. But as fate would have it, I was presented with a great job oppotunity in Oklahoma and moved away.
And yet, we stayed in contact through the mail and long phone converstations. We even started dating long distance (which, despite what you've heard, really can work - kinda). H got a better job, too,and came out to see me a couple of times. She lost her virginity to me during one trip. I was so taken with her, and I really wanted to be with her. I was under the impression that she was "the one." So I proposed to her and decided to move back to Washington to be with her in one fell swoop. I walked away from the job of my dreams on what seemed like a sure thing.
Things were great for about a month or so with her. We shared an appartment, and planned to be married in the fall. Despite the Oklahoma job being a fantastic showing on my resume, the market for that kind of job was flooded back in Washington. Undeterred, I moved on to another field. This wasn't good enough for her. Hmmm, her materialism is starting to shine through. I'll just let it go. Everyone has a flaw or two, right?
When I introduced H to my friends, they weren't exactly taken with her. I guess the fact that she got sloppy drunk and puked on my best friend's Monopoly board didn't exactly endear her to them. Well, that and the fact that she picked not only at their flaws and shortcomings, but mine as well. To the point of bitter obnoxiousness. Something I hadn't really noticed until they'd pointed it out. Yeah, she's got a dark sense of humor, but bitter and mean? Really? Well, crap. Maybe we can work on that together, H and I, in our future. Silly me, thinking I could change someone...
H had self image issues, too. She hated the way she looked. I mean, she couldn't stand herself. She hated her body. She hated her hair. She hated... well, pretty much every aspect of her personality. Yet, she carried on, putting up a front of self superiority to everyone. Despite hating herself so much, she was convinced that she was the greatest being who'd ever lived. Outwardly she was confident, cool, and funny. But deep down she was bitter, jaded, hateful and downright mean. How this wasn't a huge, pulsating, bright neon WARNING sign to me then, I can't explain. Love is deaf, dumb, and blind.
My parents couldn't stand her. That only made me like her more. My friends wanted nothing to do with her at all. Well, they'll get over it when we're married, right? Right?
Things went from bad to worse when we started hanging out pretty much exclusively with her brother and his new wife. My friends weren't cool enough for her, I guess. Anyway, her brother, C, had just gotten out of the Marines and had married a painfully obvious gold-digging wife with four kids that weren't his (and none of which who had the same father, I might add). Whatever. He was happy, and who the fuck was I to point out his mistake? Anyway, H took a serious liking to her new sister-in-law. They would leave C and I at the house to go on a beer run, and show back up three or four hours later. Literally.
I was really starting to fall out of love with H. Everything was starting to ring on my brain, and I was startint to put two and two together.
After leaving her brother and I together with the kids for the umteenth time on a beer run with her sister-in-law, I finally asked H point blank if she was sleeping with her sister-in-law. She said she wasn't, and tried to laugh it off. But her protestations seemed hollow, especially when she blushed at the question. H never blushed. Ever.
More and more often, I found myself miserable in H's company. We agrued almost constantly, usually over the fact that I wasn't perfect, had a lousy job, and didn't make her happy. Her own sister once told me that I deserved better than H. When she started making plans on the weekends to hang out with her sister-in-law while I did...whatever, I came to realize that H and I were never to be, and was trying to think of a way to get out. But fate interveined and made me the villan instead.
H found my journal. And in the pages of my journal were the names of former lovers. And, I'm truly ashamed to admit now, there were quite a few of them. Now H knew I wasn't as pure as the driven snow when we'd met. But I did lie to her about how many girls I'd slept with. Why would I lie about that? Because I didn't want her to think less of me because I used to let my dick do my thinking for me. Is that any type of excuse for lying? Certainly not. All I can say is that it made sense at the time.
H flipped out and threw me out of her appartment that night. As I drove to my best friend's house to crash on his couch, deep down I was relieved. Deeply, truly and sincerley relieved. Despite the fact that I didn't really have a place to live, I felt free for the first time in over a year. I moved on with my life, trying to get over H and the year I had wasted with her.
But apparently, my cold villany stuck in her craw. For when I stumbled across her profile here and saw her answer to the "I Lost My Virginity" question, it all came back to me. A part of my life that I am still unable to explain or understand . A year that I had let go of, put to bed, and come to terms with a long, long time ago. Her answer?
I Lost My Virginity to someone who didn't deserve me.
But you know what? You're absolutely right, H. I didn't deserve you. In fact, I can think of few that do deserve you. Truth to be told, I deserved much better. And I eventually found it. And somewhere along the way, I found the self acceptance and self respect that neither of us had back then.
Despite our colored past, H, I truly do hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for. And I hope you find peace with yourself someday. Irregardless of how things turned out between us, and beyond what you may think of this journal entry, I really wish you no ill-will and don't hold anything against you. We were just wrong for each other, no harm, no foul. Shit happens, and everyone makes mistakes.
There comes a time when you have to put your past away. One needs to let go of all the wrongs others brought against you, and all the wrongs you brought agains others. You are a better person than you give yourself credit for, H. And you're a better person than you allowed yourself to be. And I even have to thank you for that time. Because if it hadn't all happened, I wouldn't be where I am now, and I wouldn't be the person I am now. I look back and can see the good that came from the bad. Do you see it, too?
We met at our place of mutual employ, a movie theater in Washington state. H seemed like a great person. She had a good sense of humor, was easy to talk to, pleasant to look at, and was always just herself. And to top it all off, she liked me, and I liked her. We'd hang out after work, somtimes at her house, sometimes at my appartment, sometimes out in public. But as fate would have it, I was presented with a great job oppotunity in Oklahoma and moved away.
And yet, we stayed in contact through the mail and long phone converstations. We even started dating long distance (which, despite what you've heard, really can work - kinda). H got a better job, too,and came out to see me a couple of times. She lost her virginity to me during one trip. I was so taken with her, and I really wanted to be with her. I was under the impression that she was "the one." So I proposed to her and decided to move back to Washington to be with her in one fell swoop. I walked away from the job of my dreams on what seemed like a sure thing.
Things were great for about a month or so with her. We shared an appartment, and planned to be married in the fall. Despite the Oklahoma job being a fantastic showing on my resume, the market for that kind of job was flooded back in Washington. Undeterred, I moved on to another field. This wasn't good enough for her. Hmmm, her materialism is starting to shine through. I'll just let it go. Everyone has a flaw or two, right?
When I introduced H to my friends, they weren't exactly taken with her. I guess the fact that she got sloppy drunk and puked on my best friend's Monopoly board didn't exactly endear her to them. Well, that and the fact that she picked not only at their flaws and shortcomings, but mine as well. To the point of bitter obnoxiousness. Something I hadn't really noticed until they'd pointed it out. Yeah, she's got a dark sense of humor, but bitter and mean? Really? Well, crap. Maybe we can work on that together, H and I, in our future. Silly me, thinking I could change someone...
H had self image issues, too. She hated the way she looked. I mean, she couldn't stand herself. She hated her body. She hated her hair. She hated... well, pretty much every aspect of her personality. Yet, she carried on, putting up a front of self superiority to everyone. Despite hating herself so much, she was convinced that she was the greatest being who'd ever lived. Outwardly she was confident, cool, and funny. But deep down she was bitter, jaded, hateful and downright mean. How this wasn't a huge, pulsating, bright neon WARNING sign to me then, I can't explain. Love is deaf, dumb, and blind.
My parents couldn't stand her. That only made me like her more. My friends wanted nothing to do with her at all. Well, they'll get over it when we're married, right? Right?
Things went from bad to worse when we started hanging out pretty much exclusively with her brother and his new wife. My friends weren't cool enough for her, I guess. Anyway, her brother, C, had just gotten out of the Marines and had married a painfully obvious gold-digging wife with four kids that weren't his (and none of which who had the same father, I might add). Whatever. He was happy, and who the fuck was I to point out his mistake? Anyway, H took a serious liking to her new sister-in-law. They would leave C and I at the house to go on a beer run, and show back up three or four hours later. Literally.
I was really starting to fall out of love with H. Everything was starting to ring on my brain, and I was startint to put two and two together.
After leaving her brother and I together with the kids for the umteenth time on a beer run with her sister-in-law, I finally asked H point blank if she was sleeping with her sister-in-law. She said she wasn't, and tried to laugh it off. But her protestations seemed hollow, especially when she blushed at the question. H never blushed. Ever.
More and more often, I found myself miserable in H's company. We agrued almost constantly, usually over the fact that I wasn't perfect, had a lousy job, and didn't make her happy. Her own sister once told me that I deserved better than H. When she started making plans on the weekends to hang out with her sister-in-law while I did...whatever, I came to realize that H and I were never to be, and was trying to think of a way to get out. But fate interveined and made me the villan instead.
H found my journal. And in the pages of my journal were the names of former lovers. And, I'm truly ashamed to admit now, there were quite a few of them. Now H knew I wasn't as pure as the driven snow when we'd met. But I did lie to her about how many girls I'd slept with. Why would I lie about that? Because I didn't want her to think less of me because I used to let my dick do my thinking for me. Is that any type of excuse for lying? Certainly not. All I can say is that it made sense at the time.
H flipped out and threw me out of her appartment that night. As I drove to my best friend's house to crash on his couch, deep down I was relieved. Deeply, truly and sincerley relieved. Despite the fact that I didn't really have a place to live, I felt free for the first time in over a year. I moved on with my life, trying to get over H and the year I had wasted with her.
But apparently, my cold villany stuck in her craw. For when I stumbled across her profile here and saw her answer to the "I Lost My Virginity" question, it all came back to me. A part of my life that I am still unable to explain or understand . A year that I had let go of, put to bed, and come to terms with a long, long time ago. Her answer?
I Lost My Virginity to someone who didn't deserve me.
But you know what? You're absolutely right, H. I didn't deserve you. In fact, I can think of few that do deserve you. Truth to be told, I deserved much better. And I eventually found it. And somewhere along the way, I found the self acceptance and self respect that neither of us had back then.
Despite our colored past, H, I truly do hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for. And I hope you find peace with yourself someday. Irregardless of how things turned out between us, and beyond what you may think of this journal entry, I really wish you no ill-will and don't hold anything against you. We were just wrong for each other, no harm, no foul. Shit happens, and everyone makes mistakes.
There comes a time when you have to put your past away. One needs to let go of all the wrongs others brought against you, and all the wrongs you brought agains others. You are a better person than you give yourself credit for, H. And you're a better person than you allowed yourself to be. And I even have to thank you for that time. Because if it hadn't all happened, I wouldn't be where I am now, and I wouldn't be the person I am now. I look back and can see the good that came from the bad. Do you see it, too?
...and the country breathed a collective sigh of relief
It's like getting my birthday present 2 months early (or two years too late, take your pick - I'm being optomistic). Yes, the mighty have fallen. The Reichpublicans have been bettered by the Democrats. While Santorum, et. al are claiming the end of the world is nigh and that terrorists will soon be invading your backyard, people like me are fucking giddy with glee.
What the next few months will bring in D.C. will be interesting to see. Will the Dems actually stick to their guns and deliver on promises made? Will Bush become the lame duck I'm hoping so desperatley he will be? Will we finally get a fucking exit strategy for Iraq? I'm don't know, but I'm exceedingly hopeful. I hope it doesn't degenearte into apathetic detente again.
But with Rumsfeld stepping down (how convenient), things are looking ever more up. Perhaps, just perhaps my demolished faith in the system can be restored. You've got your chance, Dems. Now whatever you do, don't fuck it up. Be swift and merciless and just. And don't give John Q. Voter any rope to hang you with.
Please.
It's like getting my birthday present 2 months early (or two years too late, take your pick - I'm being optomistic). Yes, the mighty have fallen. The Reichpublicans have been bettered by the Democrats. While Santorum, et. al are claiming the end of the world is nigh and that terrorists will soon be invading your backyard, people like me are fucking giddy with glee.
What the next few months will bring in D.C. will be interesting to see. Will the Dems actually stick to their guns and deliver on promises made? Will Bush become the lame duck I'm hoping so desperatley he will be? Will we finally get a fucking exit strategy for Iraq? I'm don't know, but I'm exceedingly hopeful. I hope it doesn't degenearte into apathetic detente again.
But with Rumsfeld stepping down (how convenient), things are looking ever more up. Perhaps, just perhaps my demolished faith in the system can be restored. You've got your chance, Dems. Now whatever you do, don't fuck it up. Be swift and merciless and just. And don't give John Q. Voter any rope to hang you with.
Please.
Fuck Longhorn Steakhouse
So the missus and I take the family out for diner tonight. We were going to go to Outback, but they're so crowded, people are waiting outside to get a seat. Not wanting to wait all night to eat, we head down the road to Longhorn. I've never been to Longhorn before, but it looks pretty nice. We walk in, and despite the fact that there are at least 10 open tables that I can see, we're put on the wait list and issued one of those silly blinking pager things. Whatever, I think, and let it slide.
We're sitting there waiting for about 20 mintues,when this group of 5 abercrombie rejects walks in the front doors, open bottles of beer in hand, and starts chatting with the hostess. She giggles and tells them, "you're so crazy." Then she takes them back and sits them down at a table.
I'm thinking, maybe they had a reservation. So I go up and ask the hostess how long our wait's going to be. "About 10 more minutes, sir," she says. "Wait. When we got here, 20 minutes ago, you told us it would be a 10 to 15-minute wait. Those guys that just got a seat, did they have a reservation?" She looks like a deer in headlights, mouth agape. Before she can come up with a bullshit excuse, I tell her to go get her manager.
A couple minutes later, and a well-dressed, if slightly heavyset, gentleman extends his hand towards me, the hostess standing meekly behind him. "I'm the manager, how can I help you," he asks. I expalin to him what just happened, "my family and I have been waiting more than 20 minutes for a seat. I don't have a problem with that. What I have a problem with is your hostess seating her friends who just walked in off the street ahead of everyone else sitting here."
"I'm sure they had a reservation," he says.
"Check the reservation book. It's right there on the counter. I know they're not in it."
Without looking at the reservation book, he huffs dejectedly and says, "well, let me make this up to you, sir."
"You can't make it up. We're done. Sorry I'm not a close, personal friend of the wait staff," I say.
"Well, have you ever eaten here at Longhorn before," he asks. He seems genuine in his attempt to win me over and make things up. But I'm not having it.
"Nope," I say, "and I'm not going to, either." I pat him on the shoulder and say, "have a good night. Might want to have a little chat with your hostess," and I gather up the brood and we leave.
I feel kinda bad that I didn't give the manager a chance. He seemed like a decent guy, but his hostess pissed me off so bad I wanted to make an impression. Without customers, business will die. It's the fundamental rule of any business. And when you blatantly play favorites with customers, you're going to lose sales.
So, if you're ever in Clarksville, TN, don't bother with the Longhorn Steakhouse. Unless you want to lose your seat to beer-swilling frat-rats.
So the missus and I take the family out for diner tonight. We were going to go to Outback, but they're so crowded, people are waiting outside to get a seat. Not wanting to wait all night to eat, we head down the road to Longhorn. I've never been to Longhorn before, but it looks pretty nice. We walk in, and despite the fact that there are at least 10 open tables that I can see, we're put on the wait list and issued one of those silly blinking pager things. Whatever, I think, and let it slide.
We're sitting there waiting for about 20 mintues,when this group of 5 abercrombie rejects walks in the front doors, open bottles of beer in hand, and starts chatting with the hostess. She giggles and tells them, "you're so crazy." Then she takes them back and sits them down at a table.
I'm thinking, maybe they had a reservation. So I go up and ask the hostess how long our wait's going to be. "About 10 more minutes, sir," she says. "Wait. When we got here, 20 minutes ago, you told us it would be a 10 to 15-minute wait. Those guys that just got a seat, did they have a reservation?" She looks like a deer in headlights, mouth agape. Before she can come up with a bullshit excuse, I tell her to go get her manager.
A couple minutes later, and a well-dressed, if slightly heavyset, gentleman extends his hand towards me, the hostess standing meekly behind him. "I'm the manager, how can I help you," he asks. I expalin to him what just happened, "my family and I have been waiting more than 20 minutes for a seat. I don't have a problem with that. What I have a problem with is your hostess seating her friends who just walked in off the street ahead of everyone else sitting here."
"I'm sure they had a reservation," he says.
"Check the reservation book. It's right there on the counter. I know they're not in it."
Without looking at the reservation book, he huffs dejectedly and says, "well, let me make this up to you, sir."
"You can't make it up. We're done. Sorry I'm not a close, personal friend of the wait staff," I say.
"Well, have you ever eaten here at Longhorn before," he asks. He seems genuine in his attempt to win me over and make things up. But I'm not having it.
"Nope," I say, "and I'm not going to, either." I pat him on the shoulder and say, "have a good night. Might want to have a little chat with your hostess," and I gather up the brood and we leave.
I feel kinda bad that I didn't give the manager a chance. He seemed like a decent guy, but his hostess pissed me off so bad I wanted to make an impression. Without customers, business will die. It's the fundamental rule of any business. And when you blatantly play favorites with customers, you're going to lose sales.
So, if you're ever in Clarksville, TN, don't bother with the Longhorn Steakhouse. Unless you want to lose your seat to beer-swilling frat-rats.
Have you ever written a journal entry... ON WEED, MAN?
(No, I'm not really stoned. I gave that up years ago. The image just ammused me.)
Mood: Reflective
Listening To: Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright
I'm new to this blogging thing, so don't expect me to be timely or even terribly relevant.
My oldest daughter is in preschool now. All those cliches you hear about how old it makes you feel on their first day of school? Yeah, they're true. It really does seem like just the other day we were brining her home, fresh and pink from the hospital. And it made me really realize that I'm getting older, too. It really is funny how time can fly like that.
She loves school, though. She loves playing with the other kids and doing all the classroom activities. She gets into the truck at the end of her day just bursting to tell me about all her adventures. It's just too cute for words. And I can't help but be proud of the wonderful girl she's becoming.
Shannon, my wife, is going clubbing tonight with some of our neighbors. Girls night out. I hope she has fun. Lord knows she needs it after being stuck in Iraq for a year. It's great to have her back, let me tell you. I was afraid that being deployed would change her or make her hard, but it hasn't. We just picked up right where we left off, and things are great between us. I'm so glad I've got her in my life, let alone as my wife. She is truly the most amazing person I've ever known.
Okay, I'm sure you're probably gagging on the feelgood right about now, so moving on.
Been reading quite a few comics lately. I hadn't been to a comic shop in literally years, when I stopped into the local shop the other day. All the books I used to read make little-to-no sense to me anymore, and I struggled to understand what I found so appaealling about them in the first place. All the mutant and X-books, while pretty to look at, are cerebral mush (altought Marvel's Civil War is a fairly interesting read). I've decided to take a chance on some new stuff.
Conan is both beautifully illustrated and fantastically written. Very good stuff that I highly reccomend. Dusty Starr seems like it has potential to be a great series, which is saying a lot as I usually don't care for western-themed books. Dynamite's Red Sonja is tragedy on pulp, but not because of it's literal content. Rather, it's for lack thereof. It's illustration is sublime, but the writing is godawful. The plots are so thin they make Calista Flockhart jealous. It's a horrible waste of what has potential to be a fantastic character.
Well, I've prattled on long enough. I'd promise not to be so boring next time, but I'd be lying. If you made it this far, congratulations, and thanks for reading.
Listening To: Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright
I'm new to this blogging thing, so don't expect me to be timely or even terribly relevant.
My oldest daughter is in preschool now. All those cliches you hear about how old it makes you feel on their first day of school? Yeah, they're true. It really does seem like just the other day we were brining her home, fresh and pink from the hospital. And it made me really realize that I'm getting older, too. It really is funny how time can fly like that.
She loves school, though. She loves playing with the other kids and doing all the classroom activities. She gets into the truck at the end of her day just bursting to tell me about all her adventures. It's just too cute for words. And I can't help but be proud of the wonderful girl she's becoming.
Shannon, my wife, is going clubbing tonight with some of our neighbors. Girls night out. I hope she has fun. Lord knows she needs it after being stuck in Iraq for a year. It's great to have her back, let me tell you. I was afraid that being deployed would change her or make her hard, but it hasn't. We just picked up right where we left off, and things are great between us. I'm so glad I've got her in my life, let alone as my wife. She is truly the most amazing person I've ever known.
Okay, I'm sure you're probably gagging on the feelgood right about now, so moving on.
Been reading quite a few comics lately. I hadn't been to a comic shop in literally years, when I stopped into the local shop the other day. All the books I used to read make little-to-no sense to me anymore, and I struggled to understand what I found so appaealling about them in the first place. All the mutant and X-books, while pretty to look at, are cerebral mush (altought Marvel's Civil War is a fairly interesting read). I've decided to take a chance on some new stuff.
Conan is both beautifully illustrated and fantastically written. Very good stuff that I highly reccomend. Dusty Starr seems like it has potential to be a great series, which is saying a lot as I usually don't care for western-themed books. Dynamite's Red Sonja is tragedy on pulp, but not because of it's literal content. Rather, it's for lack thereof. It's illustration is sublime, but the writing is godawful. The plots are so thin they make Calista Flockhart jealous. It's a horrible waste of what has potential to be a fantastic character.
Well, I've prattled on long enough. I'd promise not to be so boring next time, but I'd be lying. If you made it this far, congratulations, and thanks for reading.
