Having Your Cake (And Eating It, Too)

I thought this time around it would be easy.

I knew what I was in for. I knew the rules of the game: meet up, hook up, get off, go our separate ways— a clean break.

What I didn’t expect was my overinflated ego to get in the way.

It would’ve been so simple. It could’ve been so nice.

If it wasn’t for the awkward moment after the fact, I think I could’ve spent all day today with that goofy smile on my face.

But no.

Once again, Fate has conspired to use its entitled power to redirect a balance in my life.

Fate giveth, and Fate taketh away.

From one extreme to another, I’m still working on finding that middle ground again.

In the crossfire, the process of returning back to that state of homeostasis, I’ve managed to puff up my ego and, of course, shrink it back down to size— all in less than an hour, too.

Now I’m left licking my wounds and nursing my bruised ego, trying to figure out where it went wrong and where I can go from here.

It’s not about him.

It’s about me.

It always is, no?

I can honestly say I hold no judgment towards him, no hard feelings, no grudge. It is what it is on his end— what more can I expect of him than that?

What hurts me the most is the realization that I’m letting myself be punished by this. For taking it too strongly, too personally, when all it really was was nothing more than a silly game.

Tragic flaw #1: I care too much.

As much as I want to say, “What the fuck ever.” to all of this and call it a day, live and let live, let bygones be bygones, etc., I know this will simmer in me for a while unless I work it out of me via this entry.

I’ve yet to reply to his question.

I only remember my initial reaction as soon as I got that text was “Ouch,” and I think it has been ever since.

Not “Oh my God, I can’t believe this fucker!”

Not “Motherfucker, what an asshole!”

Not any of that.

Just “Ouch.”

It bothers me the most that I couldn’t have been enough, at least for the night.

It’s something with which I’m always struggling, I reckon.

It brings up old, hard-hitting insecurities that I am never enough, never good enough, simply not enough to captivate someone’s attention on an exclusive level.

That I don’t matter, just another face in the crowd.

I guess I still expected something out of the situation, no matter how much I told myself I was going into it with no expectations at all. I can at least give myself that.

I’ve tried to justify this to help myself realize that maybe I’m going through this for nothing, so I can just stop feeling sorry for myself now.

Maybe he didn’t mean it the way I interpreted. Maybe it was just an innocent question, one set forth by idle curiosity and chance.

Maybe I took it way more personally than I should’ve, once given survey of my consistent and naturally self-centered outlook on things. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe.

I can continue on making justifications left and right, but damn, I gotta admit, I’m still left feeling a little crushed.