Tag Archives: lesbian

Full circle

Well, things got interesting late last week.

Remember how my roommate, K., had done the stereotypical lesbian two-dates-and-move-in-with-her-girlfriend thing?  That was about 6 months ago, and apparently they’ve now hit the relationship expiration date:  my roommate has left her and moved back in with me. I kind of knew that it was going to happen… they had been fighting and bickering for 5 of the 6 months they were together — they didn’t give themselves a chance to ease into the relationship and missed that special window of time when it’s easy to dump someone because you’re not trying to pick out curtains with them at the same time as you’re trying to get rid of them.

So, last week, I got a call at work:  “Is it okay if I move back in?”  How could I say no?  I knew she was unhappy — one of those relationships where when it’s good, it’s great, but it’s more often bad or worse — but I wasn’t actually expecting her to cut bait and leave.  I got home that day, saw her big ass bottle of raspberry vodka on the counter and to my surprise, knew she had followed through. K. isn’t one for being on her own, much, but end it she did — I’m proud of her for doing so.  She had been staying because it was easy, but not necessarily because it was the right thing to do, ya know?

I’m ambivalent about her moving back in, to be honest.  To be fair, she’s one of my most favorite people in the world and I’ve found that it’s good to have someone in the house again — not that talking to my dog Belle wasn’t satisfying conversation.  And having K. around on a regular basis gives me less chance to wallow in my moods — and for someone who messes with depression, wallowing is like the gateway drug for a full-on depressive binge. Wallowing = seriously not good for me.

But her being around makes my relatively new healthy decisions a little more difficult to make on a daily basis:  K’s one of those lean, muscular, in-shape types who eats junk food non-stop and has some of the unhealthiest habits I’ve ever seen (especially for someone who’s in the fitness industry — she’s a personal trainer).  She’s aware and supportive of my situation, but unfortunately I like to use food to bond with people.  Nothing like spending time with someone eating pizza and ice cream to cement a friendship, right?  See, I know K. won’t say no to that kind of invitation, while if I cook all healthy and such, she’s likely to go out and find someone else to have dinner with.  I’d rather her eat with me.  See how that works?  Companionship wins out over healthy eating every damn time. I suppose I’m feeding one of my needs, just not necessarily the healthy one.

And then there’s the whole bit about how I have an on-again-off-again impossibly unrequited crush on her.  She’s not interested — this much I’m quite sure of — but that doesn’t stop me from occasionally having weird bouts of jealousy when it comes to her bringing home girls.  I can’t help it, I know it’s not rational, but I don’t like her being with other girls while she’s in my house. It also doesn’t help that her bedroom is directly above mine… it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what’s going on up there, if you know what I mean.

With her having moved out, the crush was a thing of the past — out of sight, out of mind, basically — but now that she’s back, it’s like I’ve got to go through the withdrawal process again. Which kinda sucks. At least there are no sex buddies hanging around yet, but that’s just a matter of time.

Overall I’m hoping for good things from this second round of roommate-ing together.  She’s the extrovert to my introvert and it’s good for me to be actively pulled out of my own head like that.  I also know this is a challenge for me:  instead of going out of my way to do things for her, I’ve got to live my life the way I want to… if she comes along for the ride, great, but if not, that’s okay too.

I need to do things to like myself, rather than doing things for K. to like me, if that makes sense.  And I need to let her live her life without my judgment or interference.  Be K’s best friend and not her weird stalker, wanna-be-your-girlfriend friend.

That’s all.  Easy, right?

If nothing else, day to day life just got a whole lot more interesting.  I’ll take it.



As in, I’m going on one!

I’m heading out to Colorado for a exciting, women’s only retreat up in the Rocky Mountains and absolutely CAN’T WAIT for it.

It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a real trip.  My vacations lately have been more of the “day off to run errands” type.  Or – even better – the “a few days off to do housework” kind.  Exciting, eh?  Yea, that’s what I thought too.

This comes at a really good time for me — I need a way to reset, restart, rejuvenate.  This trip might be a touch more meditative/spiritual/yoga-ish than I’d like, but I might be surprised at how much I enjoy the down time.  A lot has happened to me in the past few months and with the exception of therapy, I’ve actively tried to not think too much on it (starting this blog back up has been an exercise in attempting to NOT ignore it all anymore) and I think I need to process and let go.

But even without all the “chicken soup for the soul” kind of stuff, this is going to be an awesome trip — I mean, we’ll be mountain biking.  Need I say more?  I do wish I was in better shape for this trip, but I’m still gonna haul my butt to every active thing they’ve got planned for us.

All I know is that with all the hiking and running and biking and the views and the mountains and women I’ll meet … well, the most challenging part of this trip will likely be talking myself into getting back on the plane home.

I will be blogging either not at all or very sporadically between now and when I get home and settled back in … don’t give up on me!  I’ll be back!  If I decide to bring a computer, perhaps I’ll post pictures to make you jealous…

More on anonymity

I was reading yet another poignant article on The Rumpus and it got me to thinking again about how I’ve chosen to remain anonymous in this space (you know, as anonymous as one can get on the big ol’ world wide web).

And I’m starting to think that one of my problems — something at the core of everything that I deem “wrong” about myself — is my basic inability to share myself with other people.  Ironically, not complete strangers, mind you, or people that I meet only virtually — you guys probably hear more than you want — but with anyone that holds a spot in my “in real life” life.

I’ve always thought of myself as someone who simply was private.  Someone who took a little work to get to know really well. But as I look closer, I find that with the exception of one, perhaps two people in my life, no one really has any idea what’s going on with me.  I’m not private, I’m utterly closed off.

Most of my friends would respond, if asked, that I was just fine and doing well.  “Sure”, they’d say, “she’s still single and I know she’d love to be in a relationship, but her job’s going great, she’s always busy and up to something fun.”  In fact, many of my married with kids friends would probably admit to being a little jealous of my lifestyle, as theirs no longer allows for the independence and spontaneity that I enjoy.

Now, my family?  None of them have absolutely any idea that there’s anything even close to out of place in my life.  Depression?  They’d never think it. Lonely?  They look at all my friends and activities and would it would never cross their mind.  Struggling with being single?  They’re quite sure I’m single by choice.  I’ve never been one to share much of my social/dating life with them, so no information now isn’t a change.

This leads to the question:  why?

The answer is a little complicated, but it boils down to a few bullet points:

  • I don’t want anyone to know that there’s anything wrong with me.  I don’t want the pity, the knowing glances, the “oh you poor thing”.  I don’t know how I would handle anyone wanting to talk to me about the problems I’m having.
  • It’s easier to just act happy — I think it makes me more fun to be around.  And it helps me — sometimes putting on that mask makes it become reality for at least a little while.
  • I already think bad things about myself and hate myself for them — why would I want the people I love thinking those same things and perhaps coming to the same awful conclusions as I have?

Seems a little ridiculous once I put it in black and white.

A little background:  growing up, my family didn’t talk much.  We joked, we laughed, we teased, we had fun, but we rarely talked about anything of consequence.  When I came out to my parents, that was one of the first times that I had spoken frankly and openly with them. So, for me to, say, make this blog public to friends and family?  A little terrifying.

But if I’m honest with myself, I’ll notice that I spend a lot of energy keeping myself closed off.  A simple example… I don’t tell people, “No, I can’t go out on Thursday because I’ve got a therapy appointment.”  Of course not.  I give a vague excuse and move on, hoping they won’t press for a more descriptive answer.

One day I’m going to have to take that leap and open myself up to friends and family.  Perhaps it won’t be through this blog — there are things in the archives that might hurt some feelings or cause some friends to be a little weirded out (do straight friends get weirded out when they find out they were the object of your love?) — but in some way I think it’ll have to happen for me to move forward.

It’s occurred to me that this might be a huge part of why I’m still single, even.  It’s funny because a way-back-in-time ex-boyfriend described me as “emotionally unavailable” when we were breaking up (oh, okay — I was breaking up with him)… he wasn’t so far from the truth, now, was he?

I quit you… or do I?

Tell me… how do you quit people?

Not the bad influence friends.  Or the ones who periodically weed-whack their way through your life, destroying everything in their paths.  Those are easy … well, at least the decision to delete their number from your cell phone should be easy (actual removal is a different problem, of course).

But what about someone who’s your friend?  Someone who would be there if you needed them.  Someone who knows your secrets.  Someone who knows you just about as well as you know yourself.  Someone that (maybe, just maybe) you’re secretly in love with?

How do you quit them?

Of course, it’s not that clear cut, either.  The fact is that I’m mostly past the “in love” part.  Due to my wildly, insanely high expectations, I’ve been let down enough that I’ve started the process of letting go.  This, in turn, is helped by the fact that this friend tends to promise big, say all the right things, and then stumble on the follow through.  She still is the person I confide in most and is utterly dear to me, but even I can recognize that I’m not a priority to her.

Of course, if I’m to be honest, I was expecting my friend to act like my girlfriend in all ways but the obvious girlfriend ways.  I wanted her around (all the time), do stuff with me (all the time) and put me first (all the time).  Isn’t that what friends are for?

But still – quitting her entirely?  That’s what my therapist is suggesting.  I knew she would — I almost didn’t bring it up because I knew this struggle would ensue.

I think I can keep the friendship; I’ve been here before, having a total crush on a friend who’s completely and obviously not interested (historically, these have always been straight friends… the fact this one is gay is an interesting twist).  And I’ve always managed to work my way through it and find the light on the other side.  Kept the friendship.  Pushed my way through to a place where the friendship wasn’t some form of exquisite torture and in return I received the gift of a true, equal relationship.

I’ll just do the same thing this time around.  Mold and manage my expectations into something that resembles reality — and what a normal “we’re just friends” friendship looks like.

I tell my therapist this; she’s not convinced.  Thinks — and perhaps rightly so — that this friend takes advantage of me.

It’s true:  our friendship is lopsided.  It used to be that I absolutely went out of my way for her. I would wait around for her to show up to go out, make her dinner, buy her things just because I knew she’d like them.  In return I usually got the attention I wanted — that’s all that I ever really wanted from her.  But she would dole it out in a manner so frustrating to me … I wanted everything, she just wanted to be friends.

But since then, I’ve definitely gotten better and reeled things in.  I’ve mostly dropped the puppy dog act (I was starting to get fleas, I think) and no longer make concessions for her.  Of course, even with this progress, I still sometimes leave myself open to getting hurt by her.  I’ll expect something that perhaps a friend shouldn’t expect and she’ll let me down.  The most recent episode of this had me in tears.

And so, do I quit her?

No matter which path I choose, there will be grieving involved — either losing a friend entirely or losing the fantasy I’ve been trying desperately to enact in real life.

I have to admit, there is some temptation to the full-on quit — I see the world in such a black and white way that act would fit my world view:  either I can have her entirely or not at all.

But the world is lonely enough without losing another friend, isn’t it?

It might not be the best decision I’ve ever made, but I’m guessing it won’t be the worst, either.  The time between now and when I’m free of the crush will be challenging, but I know that the core friendship that we share — outside of my wild ideas — is worth saving.

So, no quitting.  I’ll leave the option open, but for now?  I’ll give it a go.

(postscript:  no, I never told her I felt this way, but I never needed to — she made it clear from the beginning that she wanted nothing more than friendship from me and she’s in a serious relationship anyway)

Where, oh where …

… are the single ladies my age?

At the clubs?  Not really, as far as I can tell.  Whenever I walk into a lot of these bars and clubs, I feel like an elder states(wo)man without the experience to have earned the title.

I mean, it’s not like any of the young kids are auditioning for a role in the Mean Girls 2 movie, but I can see their eyes pass over me — really, almost directly through me — with a “who’s the old woman in the muumuu?” look on their face.   Followed closely by “and why’s that young hot chick hanging out with her” since I’m blessed/cursed with a few young, hot lesbian friends (all a decade younger than me… I still haven’t figured out why they continue to keep me around… other than they look ESPECIALLY hot when put next to me).

(okay, I don’t really wear (or own) a muumuu … so much so that I even had to look up the spelling of “muumuu” (doesn’t it look funny?))

All of which to say:  the clubs aren’t really where it’s happening for me.  I enjoy occasionally going out and shakin’ the ol’ booty, but I’m not really meeting anyone to go home with out at those places.

Next up:  online.  Except online? The age range there seems to be early 20’s looking for a hookup and a decade older than me having just gotten out of a 30 year relationship and looking to start over.  I’ve gone on dates with both ends of the spectrum, and while I don’t discount someone based on age, I will say that it’s hard to find things in common with someone who’s that much younger or older.

You’ve got the girls who were barely out of diapers when Friends was the big show on TV (and sue me – despite all the homophobic references on that show, it’s my all-time, watch-the-marathon favorite show ever). Rarely will they know any cultural references I make, so at lot of my jokes go right over their head.  And my sense of humor is one of my best attributes!  This just makes me feel even older than my 42 years.  I’m always on the verge of starting sentences with “Kids these days….” which isn’t the best way to snag a second date, by the way.

Then the fine older ladies?  Somehow, they also make me feel old.  Even though I’ve definitely fallen off the working out bandwagon, I want to be with someone active and athletic — I know that to really be happy, I’m moving and sweating and working hard (and not just horizontally! get your mind out of the gutter!…but yea, that too…).  Of course, there are women in their 50’s that are still active (I intend on being one of them some day), but I haven’t met them.

So, what next?

I know, I know:  I need to join some LBGT groups.  Or do the meetups.com stuff.  I’m working my way up to that, promise.  Though I still don’t get how it is that unlike every other person I know, that I’m unable to meet someone to date out in the wild.  You know, like a chance meeting at the gym or the grocery store or the book store or out riding.  Seems like over the years it should have happened at least once, right?  Or maybe I should start getting on my friends to set me up — they’ve got to have at least ONE available single friend, right? (except the answer to that is — and has been — “NO” … “and stop asking!!”)

Any other suggestions?

The Lens of Time, part I

Back in college (a lifetime ago, it feels like!), I spent a semester studying in Germany (“studying”?  Um, SURE…).  I had gone entirely because my best friend was going and I didn’t want to get left behind.

She had a German minor.  I had taken 2 years of German in high school.  She was a Geography major with a bent on immersing herself in other cultures.  I was a Psych/CompSci major that felt vaguely uncomfortable in situations where I didn’t understand what was going and couldn’t get Taco Bell.

Despite this, I applied for the study abroad program, enlisted every ounce of charm and charisma during the interview and somehow shoe-horned my way in, with nothing more than a promise to take a German class over the summer.  To this day, I’m not entirely sure how any administrator in their right mind would have allowed me into the program, but hey — I took it and never looked back.

And that semester ended up being one of the best things I ever did for myself.  Not only was it a boatload of fun, but I did a lot of growing up and learning how to be independent and started the process of figuring out who I was and what I wanted.  Didn’t kick start the process enough for me to figure out that I was gay, but I’m apparently a slow learner.

Now, this same best friend that I spent the semester with is going to Switzerland to spend a few months with her husband and kids, while hubby is there on a physics sabbatical.  And so now she’s launching herself into this big adventure, much like we did 21 years ago (yes, I’m that old), and that started the both of us reminiscing and I even pulled out the journal that I kept (handwritten! It was 1991!) and read it through.

Reading my journal was a bit of an eye-opener:  the way I described the semester above?  Not entirely true.  While I definitely had fun, I guess over the years I managed to remember the good stuff and let the bad stuff fade into the background.  The semester wasn’t all good German beer and bakery goods (though – admittedly – that did comprise a large portion of the semester… and by the end it comprised a large part of *me*, too)… as it turns out, that semester started a pattern of behavior that I haven’t managed to break out of even today.

As I said, I was there with my best friend.  But – above that:  she was more a soul mate than just a best friend.  I was as close to her as I had been with anyone else and as it happened, but this semester abroad strained our relationship.

See, I depended on her too much.  Expected too much, as well.  I wanted it to be like back at school:  joined at the hip, very little that we didn’t do together.  But, once we got to Germany, she had a talk with me — she wanted a little freedom to meet new people and be friends with others, too.  Immerse herself in the experience.  To that end, she chose to not be my roommate and, in fact, got a room in another dorm.  Crushed me.

Now, before you get all up in arms about her behavior, it wasn’t like she dropped me as a friend, ignored me or anything like that.  All she asked for was the freedom to be her own person and not have her identity automatically twinned with mine.

So, I spent a lot of the semester being moody and unhappy and passive-aggressively mad at her for not loving me the way that I loved her.  I mean, I was there solely because of her, shouldn’t she treat me better?

She was probably the first person that I acted this way towards, but certainly wasn’t the last — it set a behavioral pattern up that I would wear out for the next 20+ years.  And more than that, I can’t believe that it took me 20+ years and re-reading a journal I wrote when I was 20 to even really understand how I keep managing to sabotage relationships.

Perhaps I just needed to be older and wiser.  Or something like that.  I’ll admit, though, it’s taken me a long time to write this post.  I keep trying to avoid it, as if by hiding it away it didn’t really happen — or, rather, isn’t really happening currently.

So, that’s the past, caught up to the present.  And what does it mean for me now?  I’ll save that for next time.

On Anonymity

I was reading a post by one of my favorite people — Sugar on The Rumpus —  where she talks about how she’s going to reveal her identity on Valentine’s Day.  She’s been writing her advice column (which is nothing short of soul-wrenching, insightful and, like, totally f’in awesome) under the pseudonym Sugar for a long time and come this February, she’s having her own coming out party and revealing her identity to all.

And this got me to thinking:  I’ve been trying to remain at least a little bit anonymous here.  Sure, there are enough details here that someone close to me would probably recognize my life, but I have barely let on to any of my friends or family that I’ve writing a blog, much less tell them where to find it.

In some respects, this sucks because it’s much easier to build a readership/community when you have a solid group of people that you know you can guilt into reading the blog on a regular basis.  But, this is a choice I made because I want to be able to write from my heart and not have to worry about how someone else might interpret it.

There are things that I write about here that I really haven’t divulged to anyone in my life — if I were in their shoes, I’m sure my thoughts would be something like, “Hmmm… I thought we were good enough friends that she could have talked to me about this…”.  And some of this is my fault:  despite being able to write about topics that leave me feeling very vulnerable, talking about them in real life isn’t something in my skill set.  I’ve never been all that good at the face-to-face sharing. Freaks me a out a little, to be honest.

The other facet to this — this space gives me the opportunity to vent without repercussion.  For example, I talk about my roommate quite a bit, and mostly just the situations where I’m frustrated with her.  In real life, 99% of the time we get along really well.  And when we don’t?  This forum gives me a way to release the frustration, think things out and say things that might not be an effective problem resolution technique in person.  You know, like screaming, “You are such a BITCH!!!” into my pillow and then turning around to calmly discuss the situation.

And so this site remains unvisited by the people who are closest to me.  I’ve given thought to changing my stance on this, but I’m not sure I’m ready.  There’s still a part of me that would edit and censor, knowing that the audience held people who get the joy of dealing with me in real life.  Hiding this space seems the easiest way to be 100% Laura, warts and all.

It’s the big One-Oh-Oh!

This is my 100th post!

I was in the middle of writing another post, when it occurred to me that this 100th one is a milestone of sorts, and that I ought to do something to celebrate.

So – break out the confetti! Woot!  Yippee!!

Okay.  Now that we’ve got the hootin’ and hollerin’ out of our system.

A touch of the serious:  I started this blog awhile ago (100 posts ago!), mostly as a selfish way to put my voice out there, a forum for my whines and rants and opinions, from important and meaningful, to, well, not so much.  It was (and still is!) a cheap form of therapy for me:  my own safe place and a way for me to work through what was (and, again, still is!) a confusing part of my life.  And it didn’t really matter if anyone was reading or not, because that wasn’t the point.

But, as I continue to write (you can see this coming from a mile away, can’t you?), I now hope that in some small way that maybe I can help someone else out there.  That you’ll read my ramblings and perhaps be comforted to know that you aren’t alone.  I know I’m not the wisest or the wittiest writer around, but with any luck, there are a few souls out there with whom my words resonate.

I’ve made it to 100.  With – hopefully – hundreds more to come.

(Lord help the virtual world!)

Check yes or no

Remember all those online dates I was going on?  The ones that typically weren’t going all that swimmingly?

Turns out that maybe my luck is changing.

The last one — right before Christmas — I walked away from thinking, “Not really my type, but she was nice to talk to. I could do this again.”.  But I didn’t get a reply to my “Had a good time!” text, and I wrote her off just like all the others.

(I felt like sending her a note:  “Do you want to be my friend?  Check yes or no…” yes, I’m too cool…)

But – it turns out she was just kind of caught up with the holidays (she has two small kids) and forgot to get back to me.  And after a series of texts and emails, I think I might have found a city buddy!  She lives right in the area where I’m planning on getting an apartment and we have a lot in common, from both being runners/bikers to having a lifestyle that doesn’t typically include a lot of hitting the clubs, drinking to oblivion and staying out until 5am (though every once in awhile a girl’s gotta figuratively let her hair down, right?) (figuratively since my hair is cut pretty short… not much “letting down” to it).

And I’m excited!  I don’t anticipate this thing developing into anything romantic, but we’re already starting to plan activities together:  going to a Blackhawks game, joining a book club (at a feminist book store in her neighborhood) and things like that.  Just what I’ve been looking for:  not only someone to do things with, but someone who lives where I want to be, is gay and can potentially help me to develop a larger LGBT circle of friends (you know, larger than 1).

I like that this is how my year is starting out — a little anticipation goes a long way.  And she’s got to have friends, right? She’s not glomming onto me just because she’s got no one else, right?? So – theoretically – one of her friends could be my soulmate.  Or at least someone to hook up with?  (what can I say – it’s been way too long a time for me…)

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to start reading so I’ve got my homework done for all the hot women that will be at the book club!

Indulge me…

…while I rant for a bit, would you?

A little background:  my roommate K had been in a year-long relationship with a girl who was not my favorite person ever.  Actually – on her own, while we had absolutely NOTHING in common, she was nice enough.  But, I hated the way she treated K.  Case in point:  her ability to sleep with many, many people while still proclaiming “they don’t mean anything to me!” and “you’re the one I love!”. And when K is with the GF (now ex, kinda), she seems to lose all understanding that the world doesn’t revolve around the (ex)GF and treats me kind of cruddy.  Just my $0.02, of course.

So – last night.  They’ve been broken up for a few months now, though still occasionally sleeping together and “hanging out”.  Last night, K tells me that the (ex)GF is coming over to drop something off.  This is the conversation we had, verbatim:

Me:  Is she staying over?
K:  Absolutely not.
K (turning to look me in the eye for emphasis):  No.  Absolutely not.
Me:  That makes me glad – you guys are loud when you’re up there (note:  K’s room is right above mine).

So, what would be the logical conclusion to that conversation?  That the (ex)GF isn’t staying.  Right?  You with me here?

It’s 10pm.  I’ve been in bed for awhile, just about asleep, and the (ex)GF makes her entrance.  Instead of just handing off something, they immediately go upstairs — not surprising.  They’re talking… which I can hear.  They’re doing … something… which is irritating the dog, since I can hear her stalking around.  I give it almost 45 minutes and then head to the basement couch, thinking, “Well, she’s not staying so I’ll just doze here on this uncomfortable couch until she goes home”.

Around 11:30pm, they come barreling downstairs.  I think, “Finally! I can go to bed!” and start gathering my stuff.  But – instead – my roommate goes out the back door with the dog.  The (ex)GF goes out the front door on her own.  And within 5 minutes, they’re both back and loudly heading upstairs.

I think,”Hmm… they must not be done talking.  I’ll wait down here for her to leave since I won’t be able to fall asleep in my own room with them talking.”

At 11:50pm I have a coughing fit and head up to my room to get a cough drop. She’s still not gone.

12:15pm rolls around and I’m totally not sleeping because I’m uncomfortable (and utterly irritated by this point) and so I head out for a walk in the cold. Apparently the dog heard me go out and when I come back, barks loudly for awhile to greet me.  Good dog.

This is the highpoint of my night.

My roommate’s slamming door tells me she doesn’t agree.

I check my phone — we have an agreement that if someone is staying over, we will explicitly let each other know.  Usually K will text me, knowing that I keep my phone off for texts at night — it won’t wake me up if I’m sleeping, but will let me know as soon as I’m awake — and there’s no text from K telling me that the (ex)GF is staying.

Now, logically, I know she’s staying.  The house is fairly quiet.  But still – they could be up and talking – I wouldn’t be able to hear that from my spot in the basement.  Or, if not talking now, then later on at night (Thanksgiving night they kept me up until almost 4am with their on-and-off again conversations) which would wake me up.

So, there I am in the basement, attempting sleep. Karma being what it is, because I disturbed the dog I’m now her keeper for the rest of the night and get to share the uncomfortable couch with her, making sleep even less likely. I get maybe – optimistically – 3 hours total…4:40am comes early when one is up to shenanigans all night.  I wake up in a foul mood, my day already spoiled. Which is probably my own fault.

Looking back, I should have immediately told them that they were being loud and to quiet down, please.  That probably would have either made them quiet down, or – if they didn’t – totally given me the high ground since I would have asked politely before getting mad.

I will say this:  because I knew I could fall back on the “you told me she wasn’t staying” thing, I didn’t exactly make it my priority to be quiet. Yes, I engaged in a little passive-aggressive warfare.  If they can’t be quiet for me, why should I be quiet for them?  Mature, right?

I get that my roommate is probably pissed at me for how I handled the situation.  I’m guessing that despite me not being informed that the (ex)GF was staying (and, in fact, explicitly told she wasn’t staying), she figured I’d make that assumption and should have been quieter.

Anyway, it’s the day after.  No apology text from K, which means she’s definitely mad at me.  And I certainly haven’t texted her, since I can’t seem to get this bit of nastiness out of my system either and don’t want to start a full-out war because of something that, in the grand scheme, isn’t all that important.

Yea, I get that part, too.  That I probably overreacted.

And that if it had been anyone other than (ex)GF it’s possible that I would have behaved more adult-like.

The resolution of all this should be interesting.  We’re usually pretty good at talking things out pretty soon after they happen — neither of us wants something to escalate into more than it’s worth.  Still, in my head, the conversation we’re going to have is heated and not ending well because it starts and ends with me doing a lot of accusing and not being nice.

What I’m hoping for?  That all those conversations die in my head.  That once confronted with this flesh-and-blood person who I love and really want to keep as friend and roommate, that I’ll do the compromising and apologizing that I need to do.  And also?  That she does the same.  She hasn’t let me down yet in this kind of situation, so here goes nothing.