In which the passive becomes aggressive

I imagine (in fact I know from experience) that if you are a close friend of mine and you break up with someone, I will be on your case day and night checking in on you, possibly to the point where you’ll be like “I get that you’re worried about me, but I will be okay by myself from here on in”. Well, yeah, that’s how I feel like I would be. Your mileage may vary, of course. Heather did once say to me though that I set my expectations way too high because I expect others to give me as much as I give them and that’s never going to happen.

I have always thought that it was a good idea to treat others the way you expect to be treated. Oh fuck all this passive aggressive stuff, I have really felt let down by a lot of people since S and I broke up.

Not all of them, obviously. A couple have really shone and have the dampened shoulders from me crying on them to prove it. I had lovely notes and chocolate from a workishmate I didn’t even realise was following me. I’ve had sorrow expressed by a number of twitter people who had delighted in seeing me so very happy while I was in a relationship. But from the people I count on from a day to day basis? Well, Good Tom (while I sobbed onto his crotch as he hugged me very awkwardly as I was i in a low Cape Cod chair and his lovely girlfriend Hilary looked on) was like “maybe people don’t know how destroyed you are? After all, your house doesn’t seem that untidy and I don’t feel like I have to confiscate all the painkillers in the house”. So yes, even two years ago (what was I even doing two years ago that he would have been more worried about me then?) I might have been more alarming. It makes me kind of angry now because I feel like I am falling to pieces, but I still have to pay rent, and I still have to get work done. Work is what gets me through the day and it is really hard right now.

And then there’s the motherfucking Herald on Sunday. Here is part one, here is part two, and now here’s a screenshot.

I hate the HoS

Seeing yourself like that is fucking horrific. Yes, the married man was a big thing, like four years ago, yes, getting raped was a lifechanger as well (much to the discomfort of people who don’t like it being mentioned, because OHMIGOD, icky), but “even tying someone up during sex” was, in context, part of how I got over being raped. It wasn’t a Big Deal any more than using a vibrator on someone, letting them come over your tits or sticking a finger in their ass is a headline. Kelly was like “I only skimread the article, but it seems like they left out the parts of your journal that make you fundamentally you, like the parties and the joy and I can only hope she was right. I wish I hadn’t agreed to be interviewed because I was hardly able to express myself at a drive-thru (in my pajamas, thanks!) let alone to someone in a five minute chat.

Although of course it is a Herald on Sunday headline, so what do you expect? Oh yeah, there was this fucking shit:

Fuck you, Herald on Sunday readers

I really fucking hope that it was someone looking for solace in a similar experience, but I suspect it was some cheap voyeur  in which case oh, just die in a fire.

One response to “In which the passive becomes aggressive”

  1. Did the married man thing-took 3years for me to make this massive self dicovery that I was the most monumentaly stupid woman in the world, and or he was the philharmonica conductor of lies and deceit. I opt for the latter being a turning point in my ability to look for the best in people. Am I bitter and angry-still? Too fucking right Iam filthy dirty narcissistic maggot minded bastard!


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