Forgive? Or just bring a damn umbrella?
I’m really looking forward to next weekend. A good friend is getting married, a bunch of people will be in town for it. I’m excited to see them, happy for those getting hitched.
Except for one thing. One teeny tiny fucking rain cloud hanging over my goddamn parade.
It sounds like this person will be in attendance (I’ve also written about her here). Look. I recognize it’s been years now since I’ve seen her. Years. I know I am over it, I do not think about her at all. As such, I also understand that most people who aren’t me expect that, as a friend said in e-mail, “it’s all in the past now.” Well, yeah. It is.
OK. Quick (ha ha ha ha!) backstory: Basically, this girl, I called her Kay, and I sort-of met at a party, and we had the same group of friends. As I’ve recalled over at Met Another Frog: “
The first time I saw Kay, I… noticed her. Immediately. But everyone assumed we knew each other, so no one introduced us. That first night, we never even spoke.
She would tell me later that she literally could not talk to me. That all she did, as soon as I walked in the door, was pray that I was gay.
Once we finally did speak, we developed a close friendship. She also spent six months pushing me on the whole straight thing. I spent six months telling her no.
And then I gave an inch – because I could no longer ignore the way she made me feel. It was all downhill from there.
Every wonderful, amazing, heart-stopping thing you’ve ever wanted someone to tell you, Kay said to me. And I felt this unbelievable connection to her. I fully believed the only reason I was feeling this way about a girl was because, well…. maybe there is truth in fairy tales.
And, one night, words translated into an intense, insane, head-over-heels tumble into Kay’s bed.
In the beginning, I had been terrified of hurting her. Because I identified as straight, I was so so afraid of only being able to go so far, and therefore causing her pain. When I voiced those concerns? She told me “everything will be fine – stop worrying! Follow your heart!” …. Right.
And… I had a boyfriend at the time. The fact that we both failed to even act like that was a problem should have been giant fucking red flag number one – and, even though I broke up with him the next day, and even though I had my reasons as to why I didn’t break up with him sooner, that does not excuse or validate cheating on him.
Welp. I got what I paid for. I actually knew in the morning that things were different. Something was wrong. Even though she told me she was so happy, and she couldn’t believe it happened… she then made up excuses about an ex to avoid me, said she needed space, she needed time, because this was just so intense… and then three weeks later made out with some one else right in front of me. I, of course, responded by getting completely shitfaced, chainsmoking my brains out, and crying in public.
That was about how the next year went. She said things to keep me just close enough… and I allowed that and pursued her in an attempt to reclaim my broken heart, and avoid dealing with what this person had actually done to me. In addition, of course, was everything that comes along with going from identifying as straight to the whole OH MY GAWD THAT WAS A GIRL thing.
To add some salt to the proverbial gaping hole in my chest, I didn’t tell anyone. Because I didn’t want my now-ex-BF to think I’d broken up with him for the wrong reasons, and because I thought we were going to give him some time to recover before we came out together in public, and because I was still reeling from what this meant for my own sexuality and identity. I was able to pretend that no one knew.
Everyone knew. I didn’t find out for over six months that she told everyone. Which was bad enough. But. I didn’t find out for over a year that not only had she told everyone? She also told them that I came on to her. That, the one night? I wouldn’t get out of her bed. That she didn’t know what to do with me, that I had completely freaked her out. Which is hilarious (or something), because apparently how she deals with being “freaked out” is to put on some Sarah McLachlan (I couldn’t listen to “Ice Cream” for the longest friggin’ time), light 500 candles, get on her knees before I even had my clothes off – and engage in sex that was so one-sided, I didn’t even know people would term it “sex” as I had done nothing to her. I barely touched her boobs. Because, in reality, I was the one freaking the fuck out.
But, sure, whatever. Maybe some people deal with freaking out by licking pussy. Who am I to judge.
The last time I really hung out with Kay? We were supposedly not speaking – until she pulled me away from the girl I was dancing with and started kissing me.
So. Yeah. How I let that go on so long, I’ll never quite understand. We all make mistakes – sometimes massive ones. It’s always most difficult to see the shit you’re right in the middle of. We never take that good advice when we really need it. Etc.
Regardless. At this point? I’m well over it. Kay is not someone I think about, well, ever. But…. do I want to have to see her?
Nope. Sure don’t. Sure would rather just not. At all. Ever again.
And that’s the annoying thing. The idea that we can be so done with someone… and they still have that ability to rain on our goddamn parade.
Everyone tells you “you’ll get over it” or “you shouldn’t care any more” or “you need to forgive them to let it go” or whatev. That we’re supposed to forgive in order to move on. If we haven’t done that, can’t do that, then the theory is we haven’t and can’t really move on, either. If they can still affect us in some way. That’s the hypothetical litmus test, right?
Really? Is that really true? Or is it enough to just be so very, very done with a person – and never want to see them again? Even if they are still able to manifest as a fucking stormcloud?
Or are we really only “over it” when they can no longer affect us, and do we truly need to forgive?
Honestly? It just seems like more work, emotions, and effort to figure out how to forgive Kay, when I don’t expend any of those things on her normally. Instead? I’d rather just allow for a very rare day that looks like rain, and bring a damn umbrella.