� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
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Another was a fairly nice guy, introduced to me by Heather awhile back. He and I have never had long chats, but they've always been cordial and I felt I was a pretty good judge of his character through them by now. He'd helped Heather through a guy slump when what I'd been trying to say wasn't resonating inside her somewhere. (It was the same thing I was saying, but because he is a guy, it was taken differently and accepted.) Thus, I thought this Nice Guy was open-minded about other thangs as well. Namely my disability. I was wrong.
Though to be wholy honest and fair to him, I did spring it on him suddenly without warning. It was late and I was tired, thinking with only a 1/3 of my brain. He wanted a picture, so I showed him one from eight years ago, and, with the comment about it being blurry from another guy on my chatlist reverbrating in my deminished mind, I showed him the one Heather sent me from when I'd stayed at her place on the 4th of July. It shows me from the side, so my wheelchair, of course, is in full view. Nice Guy said unfortunately it would change how he has thought of me, but he'll try and not let it do so.
Chris (the guy from Poky) was also finally told about my disability Monday. He said it wouldn't change how he thought of me, but I detected almost immediately a cooling in his interest towards me. *sigh* Last night, after two, three days of not being online he IMed me. After his initial "DUDE" he hardly spoke to me. True, he said he was doing homework. But you'd have to be the simplest and dumbest creature not to know when you're given the brush off.
Heather's boyfriend, Acidcrawl, is a lil bit leery of me too. He freely admitted he would not know how he'd react upon meeting me, which is going to be in just a short while.
So, what have these guys got to do with my old-fashioned "apathetic-but-not" funk? They have added to what I've stored away in a lil black box I call my "Pandora's Box." It's not a real box one can see, but a mental or emotional box, where I store the irritants or emotions I have a hard time letting go of. I push them away or stuff them in there for the time being because I don't want to deal with whatever they are immediately. Though my funk started Tuesday because of these...gentlemen, they aren't the only cause.
I realize we're all human and aren't perfect and not everybody will accept me and see beyond the chair and disability. I realize it's daunting and uncomfortable for some to be around something or someone they're not used to. For that, I'll give these men that much. But I am so tired of guys being so shallow. It's like announcing I have the Plague when I tell them. *sigh* I am just so sick of being surrounded by duds. Heck! this last batch was even relatively nice! Why can't I find a guy to be friends with, to hang out with, to spar and talk with? I just don't think it's in my cards to find such a guy over the net. Maybe it's not even in my cards to find such a guy anyway. *sigh*
...Only in my dreams and fantasies.
I didn't realize until yesterday I'd shoved so many things into my Pandora's Box that its contents are to the point of brimming over. Hence my funk. Though I've vented about the move many times since Heather and I announced to our families we are moving out, obviously comments and attitudes still bothered me enough that I've stored them away and let them build up. We've already started moving some of my stuff in, and while I was at the apartment with Heather I broke down. It all the sudden became too much. I couldn't deal with comments or attitudes; I couldn't--didn't--want to deal with shallow guys. I just bawled for five minutes. The Pandora's Box overflowed.
Anytime I've had a funk I've been in an apathetic mood. This one I'm just tired and I say I don't care. But it's only about certain things, like what I wear or eat or what time I take a bath. I really...don't...care. But yes, I do care about what guys think and how they treat me. I care about what my family thinks and it's been disheartening to hear some of their comments. And this time I haven't bothered hiding my funk from Heather. My answers in most conversations this week have been short, unenthusiastic or "ok," "k," "no" and "yeah."
It has surprised me that I let her see this funk so fully. In the past I've pushed funks aside to be cheerful for her, in case she needed it. I vented about the things that had brought on the funks to her then pushed them away until I was alone again. But this time I didn't. I didn't care if she was witness to it. Why hide it, was my mentality. Perhaps I'm not hiding this one because I know I can relinguish the role of being the strong one. I know she can handle that role for awhile. She is finally happy. Really happy.
(Btw, this is my 800th entry. Next milestone could be my 1000th or this site's third birthday or even my first entry in the apartment.)
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