Do I Drink Too Much?

That’s the headline of the article I read as I took my first gulp of whiskey after getting home from work.  And my immediate, internal reply?  Probably not enough…

I first began drinking waaaaay back in the day during the spring semester in my second year of college.  My emotional well-being had been dumped on by a skank, I mean, Kristi from Connecticut I had been in some kind of relationship with and I needed release.  One of my suitemates, Steve, introduced me to some heavy death metal but that just wasn’t enough.  That’s when I took the full dive into alcohol and I didn’t look back for years.  I had good times with large amounts of booze.  I rarely ever drank enough to make myself sick and I was still pretty functional…although, it did help me ruin a friendship with the next girl, Amy, I had set my sights on.  After that, it’s safe to say my drinking only got worse from there.

But, during these past couple of years, I had pretty much stopped drinking.  Sure, I had my fair share of liquor bottles (yes, with liquor still in them) but I didn’t really feel the need to drink once I started dating this other girl, Brittany.  Of course, my lack of drinking came to a screeching halt a week and a half ago when she decided she needed time away from me (can’t really blame her, really…I’m not an easy person to be around for extended periods of time) and I jumped right back on the bottle (I think I’ve gone through 4 or 5 bottles of whiskey since that point…it’s hard to keep track).

I find the whole reason for drinking is to escape the pain of life, and since I’m still in more pain than I can ever remember being in, I keep upping the ante.  Luckily, I haven’t done anything stupid like send drunken IMs, text messages, some drunken dialing or some drunken blogging…awwww crap.

So, there you have it.  The history of my drinking, in a nutshell: started drinking because of a girl, continued drinking because of another girl, stopped drinking because of yet another girl and went back to drinking because of that girl I stopped drinking for.  Or something like that.

And My Insecurities Rise to the Surface Once Again

In the continuing saga known as My Luck with Women Sucks, my ability to stay positive about my relationship with my girlfriend took a major blow.

To recap: my girlfriend and I have been having some rough times lately and she recently told me she thinks she needs to move on (while being brutally honest in some aspects of what she’s unhappy with).  So, I give her a couple of days to think things over, all the while wanting to hang myself, and she decides she needs to play the single life for a while to get things in her head sorted out.  Fair enough, I can give her that time and I can honor her request to “stay strong for her.”

Well, today I went looking for comfort in a friend who hinted at the possibility that my girlfriend might be going for a mutual friend of ours.  Despite the fact that it is highly unlikely that he’s been putting the moves on her, she would be putting the moves on him (given my history, I probably would have to kill myself) and that this friend’s logic is on shaky ground, I can’t help but react in this manner: Oh, what the fuck!!

You see, my history with women is full of me being fucked over in many different ways, none of them in the good way, including a whore of a girlfriend who found someone else.  So, as you can see, I’m reliving those feelings all over again and the thoughts running through my head are tormenting me.  I simply cannot go through something like that again, especially if it involves a friend of mine.  It would simply be game over for me.

The worst part of it is I simply CANNOT approach my girlfriend (can I still call her that at this point?) and ask her if my other friend is batshit insane and if I’m just being paranoid.  I can’t seem like I’m accusing her, especially since I can’t (and wont) believe she would, or her would, do that to me.  Does this guy want her?  I wouldn’t be surprised.  When my girlfriend was single, he was just as interested in her as I was/am.

So, what in the hell should I do?  Should I just leave it be and let it die in the back of my mind?  Should I confront her?  Remember, I simply refused to believe that the last girl who boned another guy behind my back and didn’t even have the ovaries to tell me about it was capable of doing that to me.  And that’s what’s killing me right now, knowing I’ve been wrong before, that I’m incapable of seeing the obvious in front of me when it comes to my feelings about some girl.

The sad fact of the matter is that I saw trouble on the horizon months ago.  Between her school and work and my work, there wasn’t much time to see each other and the passion in our lives kinda fizzled.  Sadly enough, I had been thinking lately that if we lived together, things would be better.  And they probably would since we’d be able to see each other basically everyday.  The problem is affording an apartment I’d basically have to pay for, and a single runs about $1100-1200 a month around here.

I’d love to do whatever it takes to reignite that passion, but I guess any chance to do so is up to her.  What really has me worried is that she tells me she can’t see marrying me.  Ouch.  The funny thing is, I can’t see myself marrying her (let alone anyone, to tell you the truth), but I’d love to spend my life with this girl.  We shall see if I ever get that chance, huh?

EDIT: The more I think about the b.s. I’m being fed, the more I wonder if I should inform the people being accused of doing this.  If it were me being accused of this, I’d want to know an acquaintance/friend is saying crap about me like this.  Decisions, decisions…

At Least I Have My Playstation

I’ve decided to come out of retirement seeing as I no longer have any other place to deal with my pain (other than the bottom of a whiskey bottle).  So, what better way to kick things off than to blubber like a little girl while I type nonsensical nonsense about the deep and terrible pain I’m feeling right now.

That’s right! Yours truly is single again!

Unfortunately, I don’t feel like celebrating this one.  Why not no one is asking?  Well, because this girl was special.  She made me push my boundaries, made me want to be a better person and all that wonderful crap.  Now, there’s no point in any of those kinds of things a relationship will bring out of you.  Why should I be a better person?  Why should I push my boundaries?  Why should I go outside other than to buy alcohol now?

The ironic thing about the ending of our relationship is that when we first got together, I held back out of fear that this relationship would end up like every other relationship/friendship I’ve ever been: me screwed over and hurting like hell.  She managed to convince me I’d be ok, that she wouldn’t hurt me like the others (I love the choice of words) and that I needed to open up.  Well, I did, dammit and it felt good.  Until the part where she hurt me out of fear I’d hurt her.  It’s a giant clusterfuck of epicness!

If it seems like I’m using my terrible sense of humor and massive amounts of sarcasm to kill the pain…well, you’re dammed right I am.  It’s the only numbing agent I have that won’t make me throw up if I use too much of it.  Although, I can’t say the same for the 2 or 3 people who actually end up reading this garbage.  Because, outside of alcohol and my Playstation 3, I got nothing within 2,000 miles of here to help me cope.  Can’t really say I have friends in these parts (other than the people I see at work…wow, I’m lame).  The closest family I have is somewhere in Houston area.

Christ, that reminds me: I stayed in California because of my ex-girlfriend.  I could have moved when my parents moved, but I wanted to stay with her.  I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her…wait, I still can’t and I just did.  What a mind-fuck this is.  I guess I could start digging for answers as to what the process is for transferring from here back east somewhere.  I can’t stand the thought of living here, at least not on my own.

I know I’m not the perfect guy.  I’m far, far, far from it.  I’m certainly not the best boyfriend a girl could ever get their hands on (but not the worst…I’m not abusive).  But, why can’t I be happy?  Is it my fate to be sad and alone?  Am I supposed to be a pathetic, miserable little snot who doesn’t deserve to be happy?  All signs are pointing to yes.  Wonderful.

I know, I’m being a bitter asshole.  Well, it’s my coping mechanism.  My only other choice, that I can see, is to slip into a deep sleep…forever.  That might not be my best course of action, right?  So, I need this.  I need to rant.  I need to be sarcastic.  I need to pretend I’m living in some sitcom where people can erase the pain with witty remarks and flashy one-liners.

The worst part of it is that at some point tomorrow morning, I’m going to instinctively reach for my phone to text her a simple “Hi.”

Christ, I feel so alone…