all of this is temporary
-I’m going to preface this by saying that I feel that this blog is going to get really long and jump around, and it’s also going to cover some subjects that I consider very personal, so if you have something unpleasant to say please take it elsewhere.-
I left at eleven am for work this morning . When walked the door there was a maroon dodge something or other parked out on the street in front of my house, and an old man getting out of it carrying a bag. As I waved at him in a general acknowledgment of his presence he came scurrying over to open my car door for me and hug me hello.
When I got in my car I was extremely uncomfortable.
This man is my grandmothers.. boyfriend? manfriend? special friend? I don’t really know that they’ve defined their relationship as of yet as they’ve only been seeing each other a month. I know this because he sent her an anniversary card. In an effort not to speak ill of my grandma (as I generally consider her to be pretty swell) I’ll merely say that her past is colorful. When it comes to men, my grandma sure likes em. Mr. Bob is not the first and he is unlikely to be the last.
So herein lies the question: Why does this make me so uncomfortable? I’ve been doing a lot of “soul searching” (i hate that term but it seems appropriate here) lately and this is what I’ve come up with:
1. I’m no good at relationships. Guys like me, for the most part. I like guys, for the most part.
I mean, I’m certain I’m not into chicks. I’m not any good at relationships with my family either. My mom gets me, she’s the person in the world that I am closest to. She knows things without me telling her. I fucking love my little brothers in a ferocious mother bear sort of way, I hate to see them upset and I get a little irrational when they are. But that about sums about it up. I’m fiercely protective of my great grandma, shes 93 and cries at the drop of a hat so I do my best to keep the hats off the ground so to speak.
I think I might be a little bit jealous. I want my grandma to be happy but it’s difficult for me to watch her find someone yet again. She has a habit of dropping everything else in her life (including me) when there’s a man around. This guy calls constantly, he turns up every weekend wanting to spend time with her. I can’t remember the last time a guy called me just to say hello. This sounds ridiculous, I’m sure, I’m jealous of my grandma, how effed up is that?
I want to like her new.. whatever he is, but I haven’t hardly spoken to her in the last month except in passing.
2. This guy keeps hugging me. Every time he does, I die a little on the inside.
He smells fine, I think he’s clean, he’s not a lech as far as I can tell, but I HATE being hugged by 98% of people. I don’t know whats wrong with me. There is something about being pressed up against someone’s body that feels extremely personal to me. My grandma and I were talking a couple of months ago (this is the first time we have ever lived together) and she asked me if I didn’t like her. I said “of course not, why would you think that?!”. She replied “Because you spend a lot of time in your room alone (see above) and every time I hug you I feel you stiffen up and I can tell you don’t like it.”
How. Fucked. Up.
Honestly, I have a hard time typing it out. My own grandmother thinks I don’t like her.
I don’t know whats wrong with me.
I hug my good girlfriends on occasion, usually one or both of us is crying or it’s been a really long time since I’ve seen them.
I hug my mother, but only when I come or go because I live in another state. When we lived in the same state I hugged her occasionally.
In general when I’m seeing someone I do hug them but not until or unless I’m feeling pretty comfortable with them.
This is obviously a problem but it’s not really one I know how to fix. I could just hug everyone until I become desensitized to the act, but honestly, there’s a certain meaning to my hugging and I’d hate to cheapen it.
My grandma and her special friend are not the end all be all of this but all of this has gotten me to take a good look at my life.
I think it’s about time I admit it.
I’m not really happy here.
I go to work, I come home.
I don’t like my job, I can’t quit cause I’m a “responsible adult” and I don’t know what else I’d do anyways.
I’m extremely lonely.
I have friends. I have a lot of friends, and I’m busy most of the time between work, school, and my friends.
But that does not constitute connection.
“What is about people? We all need to be loved but why is it that as soon as someone tells us they love us we run scared?” (I stole that from HBO)
Don’t get me wrong, there’s a select couple of people I know I could always call no matter the day or the hour without fear of what they might say.
And if your my friend reading this, please don’t think I don’t adore you or think that this means I don’t feel close to you, it doesn’t.
My loneliness is mostly my problem.
I don’t tell people when I’m hurting, usually when I cry it’s alone, and I don’t share the most intimate details of my life with my closest friends, and if you happen to be testosterone orientated, well fuck, why bother, I’m never going to trust you.
It’s an uphill battle with me.
I mean, c’mon. I’m clearly not quite right right now, and rather than call a real live person, I’m pouring my soul onto the interweb.
I’d like to tell you I’m working on it.
I am. But honestly, I don’t even know where to begin.
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