I had the weirdest dream the other night. I wore Van Cleef & Arpels Santal Blanc to sleep and that night I had a dream about Georgian Revival house on the main street of a small town. It looked to be from the 1800’s. It was rainy. And I thought to myself…who were these people?! They seemed wealthy and “old money” even if they lived in a small town… I felt intimidated. A woman and I discussed the architecture and she guessed it to be possibly from the 1800’s and I guessed 1850’s. And she thought I might be right… I probably wasn’t. It probably was more late 1800’s. …Or maybe it was from earlier and it was Georgian. Not Georgian Revival. And the whole time I smelled Santal Blanc.
I think they might have been my paternal grandparents. I’m not certain but I suspect they might have been… Whether that house exists or not, it all felt weirdly possible.
My father was wild too. Should he be my father.
I’m sorry. It’s just shocking to realize that you’re possibly…so…different.
Lately a friend I had in college keeps coming to mind. And I worry about them. I worry a lot.
…So I looked online and sure enough I found this entry on Quora:
That’s about me.
It’s shocking to read what people really think of you. What they really think happened. But you know…I’m not surprised it’s him who wrote this online. He was fascinated by people and relationships. He was a thinker in general. He would be the one to write about me online. Or anywhere.
…I did have “an island of misfits.” *laugh* But it’s funny. He was never that honest back then… He would never have told me that about myself.
I…just didn’t care. I’m actually not a superficial person. At all. I care about beauty and taste and manners and morals and truth…but in a deeply rebellious way. I don’t care if you’re a misfit if I like you and you like me. I’m suspicious of popular people. And more to the point: I thought I was just another misfit. And it bothered me some, but I wore it like a badge of honor too. Because I hate lies. I hate fake. Truly.
He didn’t teach me anything about trusting men that I didn’t already know. It wasn’t a productive relationship for me in terms of healing. At all. I had hoped it was as he could be very nice (not always), but really it was just another failed friendship at the end of the day in that regard. And he was far from my first male friend. I’m really not one to follow rules in that regard. If you’re human and I can talk to you…and we’re capable of being friends…*shrug* whatever. I was friends with guys I had a crush on. He’s right. And no he wasn’t one of them (although he had a crush on me) but we were all just friends. Disappointingly and hurtfully so at times. …Actual friends though. I never kissed or was held or danced with or etc. with any of them. *shrug* It was all very chaste except for three men. Two of them were boyfriends. And I had lots of male friends. I was rejected often despite how pretty and smart I was. And no, I wasn’t clumsy. Awkward? Yes. Probably awkward?
…I feel bad I made him feel like a charity case. It’s insightful to reflect on. As always, I’m reminded that people (robotically) worship and adhere to societal laws of status so much more than I realize… Mostly because they lie about it to save face further. *sad face* And not realizing my status blessings…I wasn’t prepared for it. I was far too accepting. I was a lamb led to slaughter. Just waiting to be brutally misunderstood and attacked by everyone…simply for being genuinely open-minded and kind. And he wasn’t one to point out those blessings either…to give me insight. He was vague in our conversations in which I tried to gain insight about my misfit status…at best. He told me to “dress in tighter clothing” and that I “certainly wasn’t model-pretty.” Both were absolute pieces of bullshit but I peacefully believed them as I already thought they were theoretically possible. Some great friend! *eye-roll*
Truth is…I didn’t enjoy being his friend as much as he enjoyed being my friend. Ha! Isn’t that awful?! …But I’m not sure it was objectively an insult to either of us. Really. More that we had a lot in common and could be close, but not as close as he wanted our friendship to be. Because he was ready for a super exciting, epic friendship. And he had a crush on me (later admitted it) and I didn’t. And I just didn’t feel that understood in general. Not really. And based on this post I wasn’t. *laugh* I cherished our friendship but it just wasn’t that great.
When you’re a lonely person you want people. I know. But you can’t manufacture closeness. You can’t manufacture that kind of depth in relationships of any sort. And I think it’s important to remember that: As painful as it is we all are loved by God (Jesus found us all worth dying for) but that doesn’t mean…no matter how heartbreaking it is…that people will appear when we need them. It’s a harsh truth in an often ugly, fallen world. There are millions and millions of homeless, lonely people just waiting to die in this world. Yet, we still exist!! God knows us… …I hope he’s not one of those homeless…
…I’ll pray that he finds friends who he can bond with better, understand better and truly confide in. …And I hope next time when he analyzes it he recalls that he found me attractive and he’ll realize that part of my distance was that I didn’t want to lead him on… But gosh, I hope he gets better friends. And by better I don’t mean better people. I mean people he’s able to be closer to.
Someday I hope I too find better friends who actually care about me. *laugh* When you’re doing “charity work” you often give more than you get. *laugh and eye-roll* I love that he had to bring up “my abuse.” Super caring. And I love that he didn’t have any clue about my relationship history with anyone but him outside of “my abuse.” …*eye-roll* No, even if we were somewhat close, it just wasn’t that great of a friendship overall. *sigh* Sad.