ihavebeenfloated

I sent this in reply to someone on OKCupid. I thought it was so long I should publish it somewhere else. So, here it is.

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Man, my Saturday night was busted. You’d think the fact that I am up and writing at 6:12 in the morning would be a sign that my Saturday night went well, but no, it really isn’t. My Friday night was a lot better and I was asleep by six. I think. Was I? I think so. So, yes, my Saturday sucked. What’d I do? A whole lot of nothing. I caught up on television and read a little. That sucks, but I did it to myself. Maybe we have that in common.

Sorry, I’m rambling, but it feels good. I read your message at about midnight but I couldn’t summon the words. Usually the good ones come when I’m either becoming tired or am so entirely annoyed at the world that all I can do is clack out a flurry of frantic words. If you read this is sort of a neurotic rapid-fire way, then you’re reading it the way it sounds in my head. And if you think you’re reading it faster than I could possibly have typed it, you’d be wrong.

Anyway, actually addressing anything you said…

I think the whole changing equals growing thing is a myth. Maybe it just seems that way because most people change into something better than what they were. Learning from their mistakes and all that. I suppose that is growing. Better is relative, however, and what’s better to someone might not be better to someone else. I don’t really feel like I’ve grown in the last year, not with that definition of it anyway, which leads us to that “dark place”...

Which was primarily me not knowing who I was anymore after I caught my girlfriend in bed with another man and still let her use me up until finally she abused me to such an extent that my mind recoiled in horror and tried to do something about it. Which, even then, it only did half-heartedly and resulted in me still pining for her and allowing myself to be further hurt by her until finally I become so disgusted with the fact that I could be so infatuated with someone so disgusting that I kind of woke up. I think the only reason that happened is because my actions in the week prior to that were so disgusting to myself that it all just added up.

Here’s to two-thousand characters. I hope you don’t mind.

I’m an open book. I hope the revealing details and frankness of my portrayal of myself isn’t too jarring, but after reading all my other profiles, maybe you were prepared. I hope so. In fact, I open up to strangers even more than I do to people I know. Some things just need to be hidden from your friends. That’s sad, but I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. I guess that’s me growing.

I met my ex through here on OKCupid. I am discarding all my allusions of actually meeting a decent woman actually worth being with here on OKCupid. It’s a small relief that you’re taken and seem actually interested in me as a person.

It’s so unbecoming to seem so jaded and bitter but now it’s 6:22 and I’ve got some music on and I feel like being honest.

The people you meet to try to date on the internet are simple to define. The men are just interested in a pretty face and an easy lay. All of them. Regardless of what they say and what kind of act they put on. Perhaps all guys in reality are the same way. Looking at my friends, I’d say that’s about right… except for the really damaged ones. Women on the internet fall into two groups, the insane ones and the good ones. You never actually get to meet the good ones, because a good woman isn’t going to rush out and meet a perfect stranger from the internet. Ever. I’ve been talking to a girl off and on for a few months now, she practically lives across the street from me, and I’m only assuming that because she wont tell me where she lives, and she’s refusing to meet me pretty much at every turn. But I keep trying. I keep trying after I tell her how absolutely fantastic it is that she doesn’t want to meet me.

I’ve met a few women through here, and the conversations have gone like this: “Hi, my name is Brad.” “Oh, hey.” “Wanna hang out?” “Sure! Come pick me up!” That’s not good. I thought it was great, but no, it’s not good. Because I found out that a woman willing to run out late at night and meet some random guy from the internet is the type of woman willing to run out late at night and meet a random guy from the internet. Even when she has a boyfriend that she’s supposed to be committed to.

Sorry, I know this isn’t exactly what you expected or wanted, but it’s what I’m feeling.

This is my “dark place”, and I’m pretty much out of it.

Maybe all this is why I’m branching out socially and trying to meet people I don’t already know, who are already known by my friends. I met a girl recently. She’s a Pisces just like me, exactly like me, and she’s every bit as damaged as I am and it’s fantastic, it makes me sad that nothing will ever happen between us. This is where a girl friend of mine goes, “Aw! Don’t say that!” and punches my arm, and I just smile and nod.

So maybe I still am in a bit of a dark place.

I stopped knowing who I was, and that’s what bummed me out the most. I did some things that really disappointed myself and I fell into a bit of a depression. It takes a lot for me to be disappointed in anything. I have really low expectations of everything which is why I’m always so happy. So, to say that I let myself down is to say that I might as well have taken out the empire state building single handedly along with everyone else inside. At least in my own mind, that’s what it felt like.

And then I forgot who I was. When I was with the nameless her of my past I felt relatively stable, confident, well-aware of who I was. Or maybe just the opposite. Maybe I didn’t know who I was and was just comfortable with the idea that I existed solely through my attachment to her. That’s an idea. That fits my modus operandi. Gotta work on that one.

I would look in the mirror and I’d have that Being John Malkovich effect where it felt like I was looking through a peephole and didn’t feel like I was who I was looking at. It sounds dramatic but that effect actually happened a few times. Made me feel a little worried.

But I’m better now. This new girl has reminded me of all my quirks and I understand that my quirks are who I am, not something to be afraid of. I’ve been grounded by someone I’ve only spent two days with. That’s funny.

And sad. I find that sad. But it’s for a good cause.

Anyway, back to your questions…

I’m just as scared as you are. Always have been. People are frightening. Personally I was always worried that I’d smile wrong or my eyes would blink funny and then they’d notice all my facial deformities (hello Nose) and run away crying. Sometimes I still feel like this. It depends on my mood. I’ve never been too bad with words, and I’m even better now, but there are days when I just don’t really want to leave the house and risk someone seeing me. Maybe it’s not the same as you, maybe it is, I don’t know how anything is for most people. Lousy skill not to have as a writer.

But I’m with you. Up until about a month ago I kind of hid myself away. I would say that I have only two friends… and I did only have two friends. Now I have a few, and I’m getting more every day. It’s very strange. I guess being broken within my little world made me realize that I needed to expand my world a bit so I don’t have to worry about being lonely when I get myself broken again. That’s an idea. If it’s true, that’s great, but nothing feels really true even as I’m typing it.

I’ve never met anyone scared to talk to me. Don’t be intimidated by the verbosity of this letter, I’m not really like this in person. My role in person is usually regulated to listening and then responding as clearly and concisely as possible. I’m usually asked for advice. Or asked to tell one of my funny life stories, which are actually all sad, but come out funny when I tell them. That’s over dramatic.

I can wait. I have a lot of people swirling around me, or at least what “a lot” is to me, which isn’t much. So, there is no rush to run out and hang out with you. Whenever you want. That Jamba Juice that just opened at Whittwood is great. Need to go there again sometime. Better for you than coffee too, although not by much, but it’s better than Starbucks. So cold lately, however, hmm. Anyway.

The kind of people I like to meet? I don’t have a preference. I would meet everyone if I could. Just not everyone I click with. I like to think I could, but sometimes I don’t. It’s not me, it’s them. (Hah!)

I’d venture to describe what I get along with but it’s a bunch of rubbish. I am a Whittier youth and all my friends are Whittier youth, which for the most part is a disillusioned jaded slacker kind of middle class gutterpunk. Or something. I don’t know.

I’m that, but I’m intellectual, or something. We’re all closet intellectuals, or at least I think we all are. I don’t know. My friends are cool, but we’re all similar kinds of different. Maybe we’re all broken in some way. I don’t know, again.

Say hello to nine thousand characters. I’m really sorry. It’s 6:43 now. I’m sure this wont take you half an hour to read.

Conversations… Everything. I can talk about anything and everything. There’s really no limit. I also know everything. (I picked that up when I was about fifteen and I have yet to stop knowing everything. Ha, ha, teenager humor… sigh…)

Anyway, I’m going to just avoid hitting the ten thousand character limit and leave you with nine-thousand, five-hundred, and fifty-eight.

Man, choosing my words carefully there near the end was really tough just to get that number exactly right.

– Brad