On that day I felt like a woman on Oprah. Not the good kind of being a woman on Oprah, a woman who happens to visit for O’s Favorite Things and squeals like she’s never once received a present when Oprah introduces her to cashmere. No, this was the other kind of being a woman on Oprah, the one who inspires audience members to think Thank God I’m not that fucking dumb and Wow. I can’t wait to tell my friends just how fucking dumb this woman is.
On this day I will be purposefully vague, because that’s what a women with class and cashmere will do, but I feel the need to document this just as I would if I found a T Rex using the good conditioner in my shower. He didn’t have sixteen grown children in Utah or work as a Super Secret Agent Spy after clocking out from Circuit City, but it matters not. He wasn’t who he said he was.
On that day this boy said it isn’t you, and I knew in my rational parts, the part that takes 2+2=4 as truth that it wasn’t me, but it just doesn’t matter. Because there still is that tiny part, the part of you that drinks Jagermeister when you know full well there isn’t enough greasy food in the world to make that a good decision, that thinks if you were that much more confident, sweet, sexy, or smart that it might save people from being this way.
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been there, done that, have the shirt.
and if not jager, may we send goldschlager? *hugs*
Well, I for one can’t ever imagine saying ‘That fucking dumb’ in relation to you. In fact, I don’t even think I could say that were you in deep w/Mr. Jagermeister. Now, about a man who says things like ‘it’s not you…’, after lying about himself, to You??
Yeah, that guys no longer even an Oprah guest. I’m thinking more…Rachel Ray. Yeah, A big orange Rachel Ray guest w/nothing interesting to say, whatsoever.
But wow, you are good.
Ouch.
I’m in love with your last sentence. It’s strange how, even though it’s a tiny part of your brain, it can manage to overwhelm the rest of it so successfully. Hang in there, my friend.
I hate that feeling, and there’s just no way to talk yourself out of it.
But rest assured it’s absolutely him.
Kris,
You seem to lean toward defining yourself as what other people think of you. You are quite wonderful as Kris.
Peace
For such a tiny part, it sure does hurt big.
(hug)
Ouch! I know what you mean. I too have felt THAT dumb before. That moment of realization when it all comes crashing down in the question of “How did I not see this?!!” yeah, that sucks.
BUT in reality it’s him that’s dumb, not you.
I’m sorry. Even rationally knowing it’s not you, it still sucks emotional ass in a huge way.
Seriously, we all do stupid things in relationships. I could probably tell you stories about what I’ve done that will make you feel better about what just happened to you and have you staring at me wondering how someone who is as smart on paper as I am can do things in real life that make no sense.
Chin up. One of my mantras is “Boys are stupid.” Whenever there is a problem, usually at the base of the problem is the fact that boys are stupid. And often dishonest.
Drink lots of water to help your skin stay nice and avoid the hangover.
That reminds me of the last one. On that day I got an email after not being able to reach he who was questionable that began “I hate saying this but I met someone”. I had to use the ‘delete forever’ function on gmail because even when I was better I didn’t ever want to see it again. And I began to envision how much smarter, thinner, talented and interesting this person was then me. Whatev. I resort to this childish mantra “there’s no one in the world better than me”.
There must be a full moon. I am feeling an ouch right about now, too.
Oh, and Ditto Julianne.
So sorry. Breakups suck. Boys are stupid, we should throw rocks at them. ;-)
Thinking good thoughts for you. I hope this ickyness passes quickly (at least no longer than a normal hangover). The bright side? You got rid of the poser/faker/liar sooner rather than later. Something (way!) better is coming your way. Hang in there, kitten.
Dumb, whateva! It happens to the best of us, some of us over and over. I wish I could write something witty to make you feel better, like all the stuff you’ve that made smile!
oh all those “if onlys”. I know them well.
If we didn’t make bad dating decisions, we’d all still be with the first person we dated, I think. And the first person I dated lives in Grand Forks, ND - and there is not enough Jager in the world, people.
HOPE FLOATS
Krisser —
It is you. But only how he interprets you in relation to him. And given more time, I’m sure that you would have more clearly interpreted him in relation to you and then YOU would have led the “it’s not you” discussion.
I’ve “known” you for many moons (four years is a lifetime in blog time) and I know that this is one more time that you would have realized that you absolutely refuse to settle.
Don’t doubt yourself. No matter how many toots of Jager you’ve had.
No one in the world is secure enough to just, “oh well - it’s not me,” and move on. But wouldn’t it be nice…
I should have read this before I signed up for another tour in Online Dating Land. Because that part of it SUCKS!
You rock and I still pink, puffy heart you!
ugh, I’m so right there with you right now, and you don’t know me from Adam. I got the “you’re really sweet and deserve someone better than me.” Sorta a new spin on the “It’s not you…” B.S. I’m so ready for the little voice to shut up!
*sigh* I’ve been there. I had a friend one time tell me that dating is kind of like kicking all the trash out of the way till you find that one piece of gold you were looking for.
She’s been married 10 years.
I’m still looking.
chin up! it happens to everyone. :)
It is too him. It just is. As Journey famously said “Don’t Stop Believin’”.
{Hugs} and a good bottle of Merlot to you.
You know, I just read on Charlotte’s site about all these DC women who wrote about this topic today — and guess what I did this morning without realizing I was part of the crowd? Yep, wrote about a failed Match hook-up that I’m bummed about. (I spun it more along the lines of reactivating my account after hiding my profile for a week, but…read between the lines, you know?)
I’m sorry, Kris. :(
Sometimes, these are the “ones” that hurt the most.
(((HUGS)))
“because that’s what a woman with class and cashmere will do” - may I steal that?
like many before have said: been there, done that, have the hangover and tread marks on my face to prove it
and yes, it IS him
On behalf of myself and men everywhere, I apologize. There’s nothing to say for it except that we often don’t measure up to what the angels of our better natures would demand. You deserve far better.
That sucks. I know how that goes and I have no idea WHY they do this. It’s definitely him.
That last line is just fantastic writing.
That’s so silly that you’d think someone would have 16 grown chillens in Utah.
It’s probably more like 18.
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