“Stay a Little Longer” by Brothers Osborne. They are country, but it’s such a perfect song for that friends with benefits. It’s purely that addiction you have to a person, knowing full well that you aren’t together. Yet, after a couple drinks, you are trying to strip each other bare like fucking animals in heat.
We’re being nice to each other, and it makes me nervous. I want to be kind to him, sure, and I still give a shit. But I keep going, “Fuck, we’ve been here before.”
First, he’s nice, and I’m nice back. Then he invites me to hang out with a group of people. We hang out alone, and everything is good. Until he sends the suggestive texts about how I’m this amazing, sexy woman. And that shit leads to me getting drunk and hooking up with him. Ok, that only happened once… but I can’t fucking put myself back in that cycle. And I’m not sure I can trust him not to bring us right back there. He makes me weak, and I can’t trust him to protect me from the pain that results from that weakness.
You know someone has hurt you when you are leery of the fact that they are trying to be nice. I always think that the minute you start questioning someone’s motives is the minute you stop trusting them. While I don’t want to believe his motives have bad intentions, I don’t know what to believe with him, anymore. That sort of makes me sad, but that’s what happens.
Part of me also wants to ask if he did throw a fit about my hours at work, which caused mine to drop a bit. It’s what I heard, but I don’t want to just say it’s true simply because someone else told me about it. There’s probably more to the story than that. Rumors can be silly, and even though he didn’t afford me that same benefit of the doubt, I don’t think I should hold the story against him if it turns out it was blown out of proportion.
God, maybe I’m fucking learning or something… Shit.
I didn’t get my workout in today. One, because my headphones didn’t actually make it further than the driveway (note to self: buy headphones just for the gym). Two, because apparently my dad decided that he needed me to drive my brother to work. At least he said thank you. Most of the time, he doesn’t get to the point of actually appreciating people.
The fact that I didn’t exercise does make me nervous about my weigh-in on Saturday. Will I end up putting on weight in this last week so my number will be up from where I think I am? I mean, I know that weight loss is about so much more than that pesky number on the scale… but I’m at a weight where that number going down is good for my health.
At 5’4″, being over 200 pounds is a fucking lot. I mean, I can walk and move around with relative ease, but who can say that I will still be able to do that in 20 years if I stay this way? I don’t want to set myself up for failure when I can do something about it now.
Seriously, I’m learning fucking shit from life. Is that what’s supposed to happen? Because, Holy Christ on a motherfucking cracker (yeah, sorry Christianity… again), it feels like I might actually be paying attention and trying to do things in response.
This is why I set out to do this blog. I learn a lot of things when I write. It’s like, somehow, even just rudimentary writing like this gives me so much more insight about myself and what I should do. It’s my opportunity to say things like, “Hey dumbass, why don’t you cut that bad shit out and try this good shit?” And I go, “You know what, bitch? You’re totally right.”
By the way, this water tracking app (Plant Nanny, in case you were curious), is trying to make me nearly pee my pants every hour. But Dandy the Dandelion (I wasn’t feeling creative… Don’t judge me) is doing quite well with all the water. On the bright side, I haven’t experienced hyponatremia or any other ill effects, so I’d chalk it up to being a good thing. Eventually, I will also stop having to pee every 25 minutes. I just have to power through. I got this.
Yeah, that’s it, mostly because all this urination talk reminded me I’ve been holding it for an hour. Seriously, fucking water. It goes right through you!
Keep on keeping on,