Hmmm…trying to get a grasp for all that is going on. The job hunting, the boy in Seattle, the friends with attitude problems.
I feel a bit like I’m having the same problems with my friends that I sort of had with the ex-husband. In a way and that leads me to think it’s more “my problem” than that of the people I know. This I realize.
But I can’t understand why it’s taken like a personal affront if I change my mind about plans or something comes up or I full on out right flake? Even if I say I’m not interested in something, it’s not accepted. I feel like we’re supposed to move as a constant unit and they’re not supportive when I say “I need to stay home.” It’s incredibly frustrating.
Even worse, if over the course of an evenings drinking you say, “I might be interested in that” it’s taken as a solemn oath to all that is frickin’ holy that you Will Do Whatever.
Mags wasn’t never like that and it’s why we got along so well. I could say, “I’m flaking, I’m not up for whatever” and there weren’t hurt feelings. C and W are totally different and Mags and I used to bitch about this to each other. I know better than to commit to anything after our trip to Vegas but yet I get sucked in. I simply must start saying, “I don’t want to say for certain right now because if anything changes in my life and I change my mind you’re both going to be pissed therefore I’d rather not commit.” We’ll see how that goes.
On a brighter note…I’m working on outfits to pack and such. Casual and layers I suppose. Cute halters with cardigans, my funky but walk-friendly heels, flirty fun skirts, and I’d really like to pick up some trashy garters and such. But we’ll see. As I’ve spent my shopping $$ for the next few weeks on a plane ticket.
I can’t wait to see him and my friend’s lack of support is pissing me off. I need to let it go, but I’ve never been one to let a festering wound just heal. So. Hm. Good thing I’m getting out of town.
If I make plans to do anything with either of them for the rest of the summer please someone hit me with something.
