graceland's Diaryland Diary

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A real tough cookie with a long history

Sometimes I hate the things I do and I let them haunt me by running and hiding rather than just dealing. Sometimes it's just easier to run and hide. Until the problem finds you.

That's kinda what happened tonight.

A friend of mine was really buggin' me a few weeks ago so I dropped her. Like a bad habit. It's my signature move, except it hasn't been so signature in the last two years because I guess I started to move past the tactic.

But time, I just didn't have in me to tell her she was buggin and I just let this resentment quietly build in me until I felt like the only way to prevent confrontation was to walk. To cut her off.

I guess it's been so long since I did this to anyone in my group that she didn't get it. So she's been calling, texting and e-mailing for about 3 weeks. Everyday. Several times a day. And I responded to nothing.

The scary part was that it was great for me. I felt refreshed. Free. No hassles. No calls back to be returned, no bitching, nothing.

Let's cut to the short. She caught me in person tonight at a music venue, which was unfortunate because since neither of us could hear each other, I had no choice but to step outside and talk when she dismissed her date to stay and hang out.

I tap danced out of the trap tonight. But tomorrow, she's going to get me. And I'm already thinking about ways to avoid. What I hate about women is that everything needs to be talked to death. Examined then crossed examined and examined again. Of course, with guys, you have to put them on the witness stand just to get date and time information let alone anything of value, I suppose both sexes deserve each other.

I hate the way I felt after I left her. I hate the way some people hold onto you in an embrace a little too long to send you the message that they miss you. It's such a guilt thing. That bugs. I hate that I felt bad about living my life.

I was thinking about when I started to cut people off and why and I remembered this time in grade school when I was in the car with my Dad. Something had happened with this clique of mean girls that I run with and my Dad felt they were taking advantage of me. I can't remember why.

I remember him telling me, not in so many words, that I can't let people take of advantage of me because once that starts, it steamrolls you into a spineless person and that I should stand up for myself because those girls were nothing.

And that's the last time I remember that happening. A few years later, none of those girls had dates to the senior prom and *someone* had started a rumor throughout the high school that they were dyking out with each other on the weekends. This was when being gay was taboo - does anyone even remember that?

I did not start that rumor. I can't even remember who did, but I'm sure it was someone I was friends with at the time. I warred with those bitches. In conniving (on my part) and destructive (on their part) ways.

The old crush said to me last weekend, when I was being a bitch, that I'm a "tough cookie." He actually said tough cookie. That made me laugh. Such a dated expression. But a fair assessment, I thought.

I am a tough cookie. I won't be taken advantage of and I don't like feeling guilty about that.

10:20 p.m. - 2004-10-28

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