i sit and watch television with my roommate. we see a show in which a beautiful woman turns out to be a killer. she gets away. the credits roll. he watches them, then rewinds to watch them again so he can get her name. look her up online. enjoy looking at her more.
i watch this and without him saying a word, i know precisely what he is doing. and it makes me so angry that i think i will explode. or cry. but i do neither. i turn my head to the wall and pretend it doesn’t matter. i pretend that being overlooked for someone he can not know, be near, touch, or hope to any of it is not hurtful.
i met a man at work. i had a crush on him for two months before i got up the nerve to say anything. shock and surprise, he was interested in me too. i was giddy. more than. we lunched together. we laughed together. i felt like maybe, just maybe, i too could have someone who would be interested in me. someone who would love me. someone who would find me fascinating, interesting, sexy, and worth spending time with…
he told me he was polyamorous. he told me he has a ‘primary’. he told me straight up that i would never be more than his plaything.
he actually expected me to accept it. as if the notion that i might deserve more, deserve better, were just… “unpossible”. as if i should be thankful, grateful even, that he was willing to make me a toy, a plaything.
i don’t know what’s worse — being overlooked and ignored or being directly impugned as worthless but for purely objectified, casual entertainment.
i am so angry that i want to hurt them. both of them. i want to scream in their faces about how stupid and blind they are, how shallow and utterly stereotypical they are.
and i want to scream at myself for ever thinking either of them were other than more of the same. i always feel so angry for believing. then, sad. so very very sad.
i sit here, in the quiet of my little space, my little room, and i beat the fuck out of this keyboard and say it all here because there is nowhere else to say it, no one else who will listen and understand, no one else.
i have lived most of my life feeling unwanted, unloved, and worthless for it. and in all this time, nothing has changed except that my willingness to invest more than a fleeting thought in believing it could ever possibly be different.
i don’t know how to find and flip the switch to the ‘i no longer care’ position.
i don’t think it exists, that position.
which is very bad news for me, indeed.