Cowboy Nuts

Just in case you were curious why I went on a six month hiatus then posted two pictures of myself shirtless followed by another six month hiatus and then came back with an angry sounding thing about being bored: I’m frustrated, internets. Frustrated and kind of at the end of my tether.

2009 was not a banner year for me. It was harried, bipolar and awkward. I severed a very long term friendship at the end of 2008 and spent the winter huddling for warmth at the bottom of a liquor bottle. Once I had successfully navigated the Annual Birthday BlackoutDrunk, I immediately decided that I should let my penis do the thinking for a while. I’ve never been good with romanticals so I spent the bulk of Spring and Summer 2009 making really unfortunate relationship decisions and skill-less sexual advances on a series of increasingly awkward, drunken nights out. I ran out of money and got a new roommate who slowly made me feel uncomfortable in my own house. I was becoming increasingly tired of my job, which by this point was a 60 hour a week mess with two weeks of 24×7 on-call every three weeks. I was drunk every weekend night and exhausted. I was at the heaviest I’ve been in my adult life, constantly working, and miserable.

Finally, it seemed like nothing else could possibly make my life worse. My roommate, who was only tolerable because of his dependable rent payment, lost his job, so I was broke again. I wasn’t even having fun sex and I was still dealing with every type of needy, codependent clinger that I could. 4am phone calls, late night driving around with one eye squinted, trying to figure out the alchemy of getting a girl drunk enough to deign to have sex with me without running the risk of me blacking out or them being too drunk for me to be comfortable. It was just a fucking mess.

And then I met her. Things got very domestic for a while and that was nice. What I saw there was an end to these clumsy nights out, an end to the constant fucking over the people do to each other. It was one bright spot in the otherwise entirely pissfilled cavern of my life. My sister and her boyfriend moved into the house. The drinking tapered off. I lost some weight. I was happier. Life became OK for a time. I went into the winter with worries, with depression, but I _believed_, for the first time. I thought I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, but it turns out I was just catching the reflection off the train windshield.

As 2009 drew to a close, Samantha and I sat down and promised each other that 2010 wouldn’t fuck us over this way. That it would be the year that shit didn’t suck as much, that it would help wash away the memory of 2009 and leave us refreshed. It hasn’t. My relationship exploded in May. Or March. Or maybe it started in December. Or October. I don’t remember. The drinking ticked back up, up, and then over. The rollercoaster of bullshit had taken this brief respite to crank me up to the apex of an enormous drop, and it dropped me. So far this year I have dealt with… I don’t know. I can’t even list it, it just makes me angry. So far this year I have dealt with anger. Every minute. From the first thing when I wake up until finally I give up and go to bed. I’ve been accused of looking out for myself, of being closeted, of being too selfless, of being too silly, of being too serious. And each time I look at where the accusations come from, I can only heave a fucking sigh. I’ve been given every type of stupid fucking advice, from people who have zero credibility with me. I’ve been prodded and poked, I’ve been manipulated and passive aggressively pressured. There are a dozen things that my “friends” have said to me this year that made me wish that I were dead, instead of a human that had to rely on other humans. And this is from my friends. These are the ones who were worth talking to.

The only thing I have going right now is that this is all opt in. I’ve dropped a fair number of people out of my life in the past, it’s kind of what I do. But I’m doing it again. I won’t be treated this way by the people I spend time with.

I wrote this a month ago, and nothing has changed in the relationships I’ve mentioned. Nothing. Poke. Prod. Manipulate. Convince me it’s my fault. Convince me I’m crazy. Convince me I just don’t know what I’m thinking. Fuck you.

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