So, this is just a really short post. I know, it's been *forever* since I posted anything; but I had something to say.
I fucking hate Romantic Comedies.
NOT because I'm a guy, and guys hate mushy shit unless they're gay. I have 3 sisters and mostly female cousins and aunts and my family is generally a matriarchy; as such, I've gotten very used to watching 'chick-flicks' and RomComs over the years. Back in high school, I established that I had seen more chick-flicks than either of my two best friends- both of whom were female.
So no, it's not because they're gushy and mushy and lovey-dovey. Yes, that annoys me. But that's not what I'm ranting about right now.
I hate them because RomComs tell you that so long as you're a good guy, if you're the *right* guy, it doesn't matter if you're the wrong age ("The Rebound"), or if you've had way more sex than the girl and continue to regularly fuck around the time you're with "the" girl ("No Strings Attached", "Californication" [admittedly not a chick-flick]), or if you live on opposite ends of the earth (take your pick), or life just doesn't like either of you and you can't seem to get together (anything with one person in the military), or if you're the wrong gender, even ("Saving Face", "Imagine Me and You", "I Can't Think Straight"), or... anything. Nope. If you're the right person, and you want her, then it WILL happen. No question. It WILL.
But no. No, it doesn't. Nope.
I had a girlfriend I loved deeply, and I still care for her a great deal. And she stayed with me while I went off to Boot Camp, and then MCT and Comm School, and then when I deployed, and was with me and took her own time and money from her *crazy* schedule to come down from New York to Maryland to see me, unconscious and/or out of my fucking mind on drugs, just to be there. And then I, being high as a motherfucking kite and confused (for about two months, I would have sworn on a Bible that I was dreaming), I broke up with her and then, slowly coming out of the haze of Ketamine and God-and-Satan-know-what-all-else, I kept fucking shit up and she was hurt and she was finished wit me.
Then followed about a year and a half of pain and exhaustion and depression and loneliness. I was alone, day in and day out, at Walter Reed. Yes, I had and still have an amazing "support system", what with my family and my guys in the Corps and everyone was there to talk if I ever needed it. But I felt alone. There was no one to whom I was honestly close; not like that. There is a huge difference between your parents, who love you dearly and whom you (hopefully) love back, or your siblings you've known your whole life who care for you and whom you depend on, and someone who isn't related to you but with whom you share yourself. Maybe you don't tell them everything; but you're *close*. Not physically, maybe, but emotionally to form a connection with someone who's outside of normal, assumed connections? That means quite a lot. (at least, it does to me)
So I, somehow, in the *last* place I ever expected to, did that. I found someone who needed help, needed support, needed that intimacy; and they were uniquely able to understand my position and to help me a great deal with what I needed help with. They saved me from a really deep, dark hole of depression and loneliness and sadness and.... just, a bad place. I could focus on something else.
But now, that's over.
Well.......... Like I said, there's a *huge* difference between a "friend" and a "more-than-friend"/"girlfriend". She's still a great friend; but there's still that deeper, more personal connection which isn't there. I can't curl up and hold her all night long anymore. And that changes everything.
So now, after a few months of chaos and noise and things to be done almost all day, now..... I'm by myself again. Now, I'm in an apartment with a 26-year old who works *early* in the morning and gets back late- *if* he gets back, because he has a serious girlfriend with whom he often stays- so it's me and Zeus, my puppy, all day. And it's so fucking quiet. And I'm starting to remember just how I got into that depressed, do-nothing, deadened hole I was in before. There's nothing really to distract me. Sure, I can read; I can walk outside (some); I can watch something, clean my room, etc. But in the end, it's still just me. No one is there to help; no one is there to help me;
Anyway. I'm falling asleep, so I'm finished.
for now...
-ADJ
