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ravenAs anyone who has interacted with me in the last couple of days is probably aware, I am in an absolutely foul mood, and it doesn't seem to want to abate. So, in the interests of not pissing off everyone I've ever met, this is why, sort of. (Cut for length and indeed probably being unnecessary.) There are little things - my laptop and iPod both died this week (the former revived but the latter didn't) I had a double essay crisis that was one of the all-time greats, I was rejected (sort of) from AIESEC, I spent hours and hours on public transport, but you know, little things are tied up with big things. I have a real sense, at the moment, that somehow or other, the fact I'm laid-back about most things means that everyone else, my parents included, has carte blanche to take advantage of that.
I mean, for example, I had an utterly miserable week last week, went through four days of brain-breaking sleep-deprivation just to get everything done, but I went out of my way to check up on Shubhra, get the train tickets we needed, and rather than sleeping it off on Friday, I went to London to fetch her and took her up north, missing my own Halfway Dinner in order to do so. And last night, I brought her back, didn't come home but went back with her, got up at stupid o'clock this morning to get her out of bed, get her via buses and Underground with all her luggage to Heathrow, only to return sleepily to central London and then to Oxford to find myself too late for the Faststream event I wanted to go to this afternoon. (I walked the half an hour to the Careers Service, and they told me go away, I was just that late, so I traipsed home in a huff.) Basically, I held her hand all the way and I put myself out to do it. And she got there with me on Friday night, immediately rang some friend of hers in Manchester and took off for the weekend.
I was pissed off. But it worked out all right, I managed to do a bit of work - although, not enough; I have another essay crisis to launch into, sans sleep, tonight - and I figured it wasn't worth making an issue of it. But when she got back yesterday morning, she proceeded to tell me for pretty much two days straight all about her angst with this guy she was with - he loves me, he loves me not, get thyself a daisy and stop bothering me - and more fool me, I listened. And after two days of this, just about, you start to think, now she's just doing it to be cruel. Which is probably not true at all, but I was pissed off to begin with, and it's not as if I have someone to be all they-love-me-they-love-me-not about.
And it's not as if I ever do. Shubra is just the latest of the umpteen people who have mentioned this in recent months, and it's not fun when you can only shake your head and say, no, I don't know why no one finds me attractive, either. Because it's not as if I'm abnormal - or at least, I don't think I am? - I mean, I'm just another girl, who thinks about sex with the same level of frequency as the general population and hasn't taken a vow of abstinence. It's just that no one's interested. I haven't been in a nominal relationship since I was eighteen and in a real, adult relationship since... well, ever. I used to chalk it up to various things - I'm shy, I'm Asian, I'm too much of a geek, all my friends are prettier than me - and in high school people used to attribute it my being a lesbian. Well, this is inaccurate and irrelevant. It's none of those things. There is just something fundamentally un... well, unsomething about me, so no one finds me attractive and certainly no one ever wants to date me. I'm not sure what, but it seems the logical conclusion to draw.
(Ahahaha, oh yes. Sky just came in, said, "Oh, it's you," and went straight out again.)
So, yes. Whatever it is, there is something wrong with me, and having endured two days of relationship-angst from Shubra, I was getting pissed off. Still am, in fact. (Her guy probably isn't as much of a fuckwit as I told her he was, either. I'm just pissed off.) And I'm normally okay with it - not exactly happy, but okay. But people keep bringing it up and rubbing it in, my mother included. And because I'm generally laid-back and I hate confrontation, I don't jump up and down and tell the world to judiciously fuck off, because it probably wouldn't help and would just make me feel rubbish.
Shubra's gone back to New York. I spent four hours on buses and trains today, and I have an essay to do tonight and I cannot do it. I can't. I can't sit still long enough. Oh, well. I guess this is where I get off my arse and go out there and listen to more people's relationship woes. (I was away for the weekend; there's a queue forming.) Bleurgh.
I mean, for example, I had an utterly miserable week last week, went through four days of brain-breaking sleep-deprivation just to get everything done, but I went out of my way to check up on Shubhra, get the train tickets we needed, and rather than sleeping it off on Friday, I went to London to fetch her and took her up north, missing my own Halfway Dinner in order to do so. And last night, I brought her back, didn't come home but went back with her, got up at stupid o'clock this morning to get her out of bed, get her via buses and Underground with all her luggage to Heathrow, only to return sleepily to central London and then to Oxford to find myself too late for the Faststream event I wanted to go to this afternoon. (I walked the half an hour to the Careers Service, and they told me go away, I was just that late, so I traipsed home in a huff.) Basically, I held her hand all the way and I put myself out to do it. And she got there with me on Friday night, immediately rang some friend of hers in Manchester and took off for the weekend.
I was pissed off. But it worked out all right, I managed to do a bit of work - although, not enough; I have another essay crisis to launch into, sans sleep, tonight - and I figured it wasn't worth making an issue of it. But when she got back yesterday morning, she proceeded to tell me for pretty much two days straight all about her angst with this guy she was with - he loves me, he loves me not, get thyself a daisy and stop bothering me - and more fool me, I listened. And after two days of this, just about, you start to think, now she's just doing it to be cruel. Which is probably not true at all, but I was pissed off to begin with, and it's not as if I have someone to be all they-love-me-they-love-me-not about.
And it's not as if I ever do. Shubra is just the latest of the umpteen people who have mentioned this in recent months, and it's not fun when you can only shake your head and say, no, I don't know why no one finds me attractive, either. Because it's not as if I'm abnormal - or at least, I don't think I am? - I mean, I'm just another girl, who thinks about sex with the same level of frequency as the general population and hasn't taken a vow of abstinence. It's just that no one's interested. I haven't been in a nominal relationship since I was eighteen and in a real, adult relationship since... well, ever. I used to chalk it up to various things - I'm shy, I'm Asian, I'm too much of a geek, all my friends are prettier than me - and in high school people used to attribute it my being a lesbian. Well, this is inaccurate and irrelevant. It's none of those things. There is just something fundamentally un... well, unsomething about me, so no one finds me attractive and certainly no one ever wants to date me. I'm not sure what, but it seems the logical conclusion to draw.
(Ahahaha, oh yes. Sky just came in, said, "Oh, it's you," and went straight out again.)
So, yes. Whatever it is, there is something wrong with me, and having endured two days of relationship-angst from Shubra, I was getting pissed off. Still am, in fact. (Her guy probably isn't as much of a fuckwit as I told her he was, either. I'm just pissed off.) And I'm normally okay with it - not exactly happy, but okay. But people keep bringing it up and rubbing it in, my mother included. And because I'm generally laid-back and I hate confrontation, I don't jump up and down and tell the world to judiciously fuck off, because it probably wouldn't help and would just make me feel rubbish.
Shubra's gone back to New York. I spent four hours on buses and trains today, and I have an essay to do tonight and I cannot do it. I can't. I can't sit still long enough. Oh, well. I guess this is where I get off my arse and go out there and listen to more people's relationship woes. (I was away for the weekend; there's a queue forming.) Bleurgh.
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no subject
on 2007-05-14 07:44 pm (UTC)The right sort of women always make passes
At girls who wear glasses
Hang in there, as they say. Not having a partner at the moment is not the end of the world, much as it can feel that way.