10/03/2005 - 9:21 p.m. | girl problems

Yeah, that seems accurate. Not even �I have problems, I am a girl� problems. Problems with girls.

Lord, totally not ready to write yet. Not even ready to be awake, showered, and in class yet, but here I am anyway, and it�s either this or (man alive) sitting and trying to listen to this most boring man speak for an hour twenty.

Firstly, the conversation with Missy on Sunday was a pain, but a pain in a different way than I had expected. Yes, she yelled at me for being a jerk and why and I don�t care if you don�t remember, and her friends all said she should break up with me, etc., etc. But then all of a sudden she switched gears, and it was time for her guilt.

She made out with some other dude.

Hm.

I�m not sure how to feel about this. She was remorseful as all hell and sobbing, and I wasn�t even mad. I mean, she was drunk and angry with me and I had avoided contact with her for days, so I can see where she was going, wanting vengeance. But even more importantly� Well, as you know, I love to play the martyr � and this has been the first chance I ever got with Missy, it being the first time she ever really screwed up. Anyway, I feel like my true feelings might be behind some sort of fog, this haze I�ve been walking through the last couple days. On the one hand, I don�t feel like I really have a leg to stand on, getting mad at her. I�d been sort of half-planning to kiss the next half-attractive thing that seemed plausible, so I�d feel like a right hypocrite getting mad at her for doing the same. (Even though it does prove certain inequities among the sexes � she managed to find a dude in the space of a drunken evening, I�ve been sort of going back and forth on this for months) At the same time, part of the reason I�d been planning on doing this whole thing was that I�d have a legitimate, albeit awful, excuse for ending our relationship. I know she�d be upset with me if I had kissed someone, and that we�d probably break up without debate. Does it make me weaker, then, that I didn�t end things right then and there?

Or does it mean I don�t care at all, that she could make out with as many dudes as she wanted, put dongs in her mouf, whatever, and I would just sort of coast along in this same state, because I don�t want to be alone, and I don�t want to be with her, either. How is it that relationships make me feel claustrophobic and agoraphobic at the same time?

I originally typed �angoraphobic.� Fear of sweaters.

We�re kind of in a period of transition then. Our phone conversations are shorter, we talk online, and I�m allowed to skip things (this weekend, an evening�s phone call) without as much flak as usual. This is beneficial, might have solved some problems from the beginning, but I have no idea what�s going to happen now.

Meanwhile, things with H. Michelle get stranger all the time. I drunkenly IMd on Saturday night. Nothing perverse � she just has afterparties from time to time, and I was looking for some people to be around (and maybe a little free grass � lol, grass). Nothing came of it, which came as no shock, but she IMd the next day, yelling at me that I only talked to her when I was trashed. I tried to explain my crazy to her in a non-threatening manner, that I couldn�t stand the thought of bothering someone, that I never had anything important to say anyway, that I was a huge waste of time to everyone involved.

Only in not so many words, so I didn�t seem a lunatic.

Suddenly, though, it�s like she�s on some personal mission to save my soul. We keep talking, and she keeps dropping weird things about how funny and clever I am. It is true � I am both funny and clever � but it felt like she was overcompensating to boost my confidence. Maybe I just can�t take compliments. I mention how I don�t want to clutter her screen with the same IMs as everyone else, and she�s like, �but you�re the one person i want cluttering my screen!� Additionally, �i LOVE YOU nate walsh!� Additionally, a lot of talk about her loving my balls, how she wanted to rip my clothes off, how she would do anything for me, wink, wink, etc. It was� bizarre. I don�t even know what to think of it. It was like flirting, but it was so oblique that there�s no way it could possibly be flirting. Maybe it was like an anti-flirt. Like, you know how second graders (and I) are mean to people they like? Maybe this is the opposite. You�re boisterous and overtly sexual because you are not interested at all. Anyway, we might attempt going out again this weekend. I will get tres trashed (read: three drinks) and we�ll see just how odd things are.

Finally, Shelly and I are in the middle of something of a tiff. I use that word because it sounds so gay. Anyway, we were fine when they got back from the wedding (I thought there might have been residual rage), but she�s been shoving me out of the way a lot lately. Mostly I just took it, but I finally got a little uppity and shoved her back. So she shoved me back harder, so I shoved her back harder still, and she kicked me, and it was pretty much on. My next move was actually an attempt at peace, but I grabbed her around the neck (She bit me) and tried to hold her steady so as to form some sort of peace accord. Instead, she slipped (on a squished red cup on the floor), lost her footing, and I pretty much was strangling her then. So, she got all mad and ran to her room, crying, Kyle following after for comfort.

Now, I now what you�re thinking. �Nate, you should not fight girls.� Why did you say it in a Scottish accent? Anyway, you�re right, I shouldn�t. But these fights are never unprovoked. We live in a society still filled with sexist double standards, and I was smack in the middle of one. Somehow Shelly is allowed to shove me around, assert her dominance, and I am supposed to take it? Well, news flash, I am unfortunately stronger and better at fighting than Shelly. So do I take it, and it makes me seem weak and like she really is as dominant as she hopes, or do I fight back and set things straight? You don�t see me run up and assault Kyle or Spritz, and you know why? Because I know that either of them could kick my ass, and I respect that notion. Shelly doesn�t seem to get that same concept, and she�s so charged up in her woman�s lib �I�m as good as any boy� that she gets herself into battles she cannot possibly win unless the guy folds because he thinks he should. Well, I am not that boy, and some people are eating some nasty ass sandwiches down here in the Greg Hall basement, so if provoked, I will attack. At least her zombie bite attack from before was somewhat my fault. I said mean things, she was drunk, and so on. She started this whole thing, and it escalates because neither of us know how to turn the other cheek. So she ends up hurt and pissy, and we walk around the house ignoring each other like a couple that�s had a fight. In fact, she even tried to fix it like that, by doing some laundry for me.

It�s fairly easy for me � I just hide out in my room a little more than usual and wait for the whole thing to blow over. I will make apologies for hurting her, but I will not make them for why I did.

Some additions, to be copied out of here and into an earlier entry:
- Don�t like sittin� �tween people, girls especially.
I�m kind of proud of the relationships I�m forming with my creative advertising class. FRIENDS! Well� Maybe less like friends and more like coworkers (coworkers with more swearing� on my part at least), but that�s pretty much the most anyone has in the real world, and anyway� We say hi to each other in the halls now, and ask about one another�s projects in the labs and give advice unwarranted and some people added me as their facebook friends, and Drew Alm and I talk sometimes, which is a lifelong dream, but I will tell you what! I am still not comfortable sitting next to any of you people! I always sit on the end seat, so that at worst I�m stuck next to one person and can sort of look away from them anyway. But one day someone didn�t notice my bag there and sat down, forcing me to take the open spot, right between the two prettiest girls! IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A CREEP DOING THAT. The whole time I worried about how I smelled and that they prolly thought I wanted to put the moves on them when I don�t want to put the moves on anybody I just want them to think I�m not a serial killer. Is that so much?

- I was a question on the pop culture exam.
I was d) bricolage. I�M SO FUCKING INFAMOUS. A brick used as a hammer!