Wednesday, September 26, 2012

I hate everyone and am going to eat all the chocolate cookies ever

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Despite today being a holiday of atonement, repentance, and forgiveness, I have for some reason decided to make it a day of eating everything in the world ever and angrily remembering old grudges.

I’m usually able to muster some combination of forgive and forget when it comes to people who have wronged me, but it is nearly impossible for me to do this for certain men.

1.     Creepy ones 
2.     Ones who sleep with me and then disrespect me

Exhibit A: A creepy man I was forced to work with over the summer
How anyone let this man earn a medical degree is beyond me. I naively thought the numerous times he would take me out to lunch were just acts of kindness and friendship, a sort of peer-to-peer courtesy. I was wrong. He found it appropriate for a 37-year-old, paunchy, awkward, overly-handsy virgin to not only pursue his 23 and 26-year-old coworkers, but also to act childishly upset when rebuffed. Constant “Haha, you’re of drinking age, right??” and “You’re too serious. I’m sure you’re wild outside of work!” jokes didn’t help to dissuade the general aura of creepiness. I was forced to face the horrible truth when he began jealously asking, “You think he’s cute, huh?” about every male in the vicinity and refusing to speak to me (even if I addressed him first) after news of me dating a grad student circulated the lab. I wish I were exaggerating. I will close with this lovely story: when my 26-year-old female coworker was driving us to lunch, he actually put his hand on her thigh and said, “Just listen to everything I say, and you will get into med school.” Flashbacks of his advances still give me dry heaves.

Exhibit B: A summer hookup
My naiveté got the best of me yet again. Shy glances, park swing sessions, vigorous massages, and cutesy face nuzzling all mean nothing if he announces that he’s not looking for anything serious...AFTER you've already gotten naked. I should have gathered my clothing and dignity, fled, and never spoken to him again. But no. I just lay there on my stomach, as if frozen, while he gently rubbed my back and repeated this dreadful statement. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe how shitty the situation was, so soon after a previous heartbreak. It didn’t help that I let my guard down again at the words, “I’m sorry. I just can’t stop touching you.” He was getting over a breakup, and he had cried to me, even! How could I resist? I spent most of the year giving him the benefit of the doubt. He was a good man, I thought, for continuing to try and maintain a friendship. I found out recently that he had reunited with his ex, and this made me realize that his weak attempts at friendship weren’t for me at all, but just to make him feel like less of an asshole for using me to temporarily fill an empty space.      
 

      


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