As all ten of my readers probably know by now, I harbour one or two avoidance issues. Not large ones per se - it's not as if I avoid hygiene or breathing, but I will hide under the covers feigning sleep at the thought of stepping outside my comfort zone in certain ways.
(On on unrelated note, I'm not sure how or even when I got up to 10 followers. I have no idea where they came from or even whether these followers are following because they pressed a button by accident, which I can't rule out.)
(Also, while I'm grateful for the appearance of 10 readers when the actual number is likely closer to three, it would be nice if I could make it to 12. Saying I have 10 readers seems awkward when I could be saying I have a dozen. If I ever hit 15 I would officially have a gaggle, but three readers who read on purpose and seven people who were searching the web for references to Walt Disney's version of Bambi and landed here instead will have to do.)
(My sincere apologies to those seven people, as arriving at my blog must have been a tremendous and disturbing disappointment.)
Add an element of emotional risk to any activity and I will not only hide, but research faking my own death to escape. I am so much more comfortable with any other less frightening types of risk, such as an imminent shark attack or the Ebola virus. Or an Ebola infected shark attack.
This wouldn't be a problem if avoidance didn't so often turn into prolonging. Just the other day I was sitting in my shrink's office for my bi-weekly check in to make sure I'm not planning on doing anything stupid, with stupid being a very relative term.
Naturally the conversation turned to Alex, and I very carefully explained how I would definitely be seeing him in February because of a scheduled work trip to Kelowna, and face to face, I will tell him that I can no longer be his friend or participate in any form of friendship with him.
It has become painstakingly clear this is something I have to do. Since he told me about this whole girlfriend thing he's been contacting me like, a lot.
It's become apparent that this situation is not sustainable because it's extremely hurtful to me, to say nothing of ridiculous. The day he suggested perhaps when he comes to see me in Kelowna he could bring her and we could have a threesome or something because that would be hot was certainly evidence that I should probably do or say something.
Not to worry, because I really put my foot down that time. I told him that bringing her along for what he hopes would turn into a threesome probably wouldn't be a good idea. I did not tell him it's because I would murder her with my bare hands, but I did let him know that I would not be comfortable doing something of that nature with somebody I don't know.
While it's true that there is a work event in Kelowna next week that I've been invited to attend, it's really not the best time to go because I'll likely need to do some laundry at that time and...
I may not always agree with the woman, but she does pay attention, which is unfortunate for me. She did not miss the fact that I could have this taken care of and wrapped neatly in a bow by the end of next week, instead of prolonging this suffering until February.
I don't see it so much as prolonging suffering as I do allowing myself time to adequately prepare. Next week doesn't give me nearly enough time to numb myself to the point of being able to get through saying anything without needing a tissue, to say nothing of the fact that I'll be even thinner in February.
My shrink may be smart enough to have got through medical school, but somehow she fails to grasp what difference being thinner could possibly make or why I'd be more likely to cry next week and cucumber cool in February.
As if the answers to these questions were not logical or obvious enough, she asked me if I actually had hope there is a chance he would want to leave this girl for me, while actually using the word actually in that context.
To which I answered, of course I do.
I don't think it would ever happen, but I have the same kind of hope that drives people to buy lottery tickets, or the Ab Circle Pro. It's one part hoping just once for a miracle, and the rest pure fantasy.
(I know it's fantasy because in my day dreams about how I say something so moving and profound he realizes he's being a fucking idiot and dumps her for me three seconds later, there appears to be a wind machine in my hotel room because my hair somehow appears to be blowing gently.)
I'm not delusional, but I'll admit I've reached a point of wanting something so badly that any amount of reason can't stop me from wanting it, and that unreasonable want somehow becomes the most pitiful kind of hope.
Whether it's next week or February, I'm not going because I think there could be a happy ending. In fact, the situation is even more depressing than I had thought.
I asked him whether he was messing around with any other girls without his gf knowing, or is it just me?
It's just me. He says he feels totally OK about it with me because of our friendship, but if he were to meet some sexy girl he'd probably feel pretty bad.
Even if I were to ignore the fact that he puts me in a separate category from some "sexy" girl, I can't be flattered he's comfortable doing this because of our friendship.
Friendship sounds less like love and passion and more like security and blanket. I can tell the difference, because I desperately want to be hiding under one right now.
I've known about next week's trip for over a week now, and I've left it to tomorrow to decide and book my tickets.
There was a great seat sale today that could have saved my company a lot of money, but since they'll be paying for the trip, waiting another 24 hours to decide is a risk I'm comfortable taking.
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