Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Dammit, Hopkins, Not Again.

So, anyway, Hopkins, as in "stood up by for Valentine's Day". Old news. Same thing, different day.

We're not dating, but that doesn't stop me from taking this a little personally. He's gone to every one of my friend Stefan's early evening improv shows with me since last summer, and then this one...this is the one he decides he doesn't want to attend.

Not that I didn't figure it would happen at some point, and I guess he's been such a prince over my mother's death that I really didn't anticipate that this is when he'd let me down, as in "drop me flat on my butt without warning". Yes, there's a show on the day after Valentine's Day, with a superhero theme, in a comic book shop...under most circumstances, that would have every appearance of a win-win. Not so.

I'm going to the show, but now I'm going alone. Hopkins bailed. On this one. Way to go, dude- it's not like we don't have some longstanding rejection issues between us or anything. Not like I'm in a pretty fragile place, or that this holiday is a major source of perpetual annual suckage in my life-

Valentine's Day is a time that many of us aren't basking in the pink-and-white glow of flowers, candy, and expensive tablecloth dinners by candlelight. It's a time for some of us to relive the repeated rejection that's amplified by being left out on this holiday. It's a time that we try to escape that pain by doing stuff with friends and trying really hard not to feel lonely. There's just something about feeling extra-unworthy, even if all you're doing is an 'alternative Valentine's Day activity' that falls outside the typical hearts-and-flowers greeting card sentimentality, if your friends bug out on you.

...and I knew, I just refused to believe he'd do it again.

My mom was the one who tried so hard to keep me from hating myself every year on February 14th. This is a big "first" post-Mom for me: she's not here to listen to me cry on the phone and then reassure me that it's not as bad as I think. See, this is a holiday that flays me alive. It is not meant for someone like me- by virtue of its nature, it casts me adrift into a level of self-loathing that's hard to escape.

I just wanted to do something, not by myself. 

There's a reason people leave, and there's a reason we should let them leave and stay gone, no matter how much we love them...it's to keep us from continuing to hurt ourselves.


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