Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Chocolates and Flowers...
Valentine's Day truly is the worst of all artificially created holidays. I wonder how many couples end up fighting or breaking up that day, just because they cannot or don't want to fulfill the general expectations of overdone and overdisplayed shows of affection and special attention designated to this day, yet they can't get out of it because it's all around them, it's everywhere, it's total media control!
Needless to say, we didn't get to go on our arranged date last night. Which would have been fine, would I never have known about it in the first place. But getting me all excited about it, and then making it look to the generous donors as if I was the one who created the problems that caused us not to go in the end is way not cool.
What followed was emotional breakdown. Completely. Which just got me mad even more, because I virtually never let my guard down, and almost never allow anyone a peek into my soul. I give them superficial glimpses... every once in a while... and other than that I believe in attack as my best method of defense. I hurt before I get hurt. I lash out before people get a chance to lash out at me. And I always dip my darts in poison. I know that this causes problems in my relationships with other people (The Fiancé included), but I can live with that. It's always been this way. What I cannot live with is when my wall comes crashing down all around me all of a sudden and all people need to do in order to know what really is up with me is to look. I cannot cope with that. So I spent the Eve of Valentine's Day a sobbing pathetic lump on our bed, so drained that I could hardly move, and so vulnerable and defenseless that The Fiancé had no grounds to attack anymore. It would have been as satisfying as it would have been for a mean ol' bully to attack a sick little baby, really. A sick little baby who ran out of poison darts. So he mostly just sat there rather taken aback, looking at me, listening to me, and then mostly just holding me, letting me cry, and begging me to open up to him more, to spare him some confusion and us a lot of misunderstandings.
And I can't stop thinking that if it wouldn't have been Valentine's Day yesterday, none of this would have happened at all.
Needless to say, we didn't get to go on our arranged date last night. Which would have been fine, would I never have known about it in the first place. But getting me all excited about it, and then making it look to the generous donors as if I was the one who created the problems that caused us not to go in the end is way not cool.
What followed was emotional breakdown. Completely. Which just got me mad even more, because I virtually never let my guard down, and almost never allow anyone a peek into my soul. I give them superficial glimpses... every once in a while... and other than that I believe in attack as my best method of defense. I hurt before I get hurt. I lash out before people get a chance to lash out at me. And I always dip my darts in poison. I know that this causes problems in my relationships with other people (The Fiancé included), but I can live with that. It's always been this way. What I cannot live with is when my wall comes crashing down all around me all of a sudden and all people need to do in order to know what really is up with me is to look. I cannot cope with that. So I spent the Eve of Valentine's Day a sobbing pathetic lump on our bed, so drained that I could hardly move, and so vulnerable and defenseless that The Fiancé had no grounds to attack anymore. It would have been as satisfying as it would have been for a mean ol' bully to attack a sick little baby, really. A sick little baby who ran out of poison darts. So he mostly just sat there rather taken aback, looking at me, listening to me, and then mostly just holding me, letting me cry, and begging me to open up to him more, to spare him some confusion and us a lot of misunderstandings.
And I can't stop thinking that if it wouldn't have been Valentine's Day yesterday, none of this would have happened at all.
