Vent Sesh #3 - Sorry I'm Not Sorry

Yep. Another vent sesh. Log out now if you don’t like it because I really don’t give a fuck, which I hope you knew beforehand.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how my life is turning out in reference to other people. A good chunk of my friends are married or have kids and are living this “dream” life. The ones that don’t have that, spend every waking second looking for it. I feel like I’m going backwards sometimes. I spent my last year of high school, all of college, and portion of time after that living in this dream, and then later on, trying to put a band-aid on this dream that just didn’t work out. You can imagine that you put in all this effort to make something work and it just doesn’t happen, well it puts a bad taste in your mouth. I can’t say exactly that I’m taking that time back, because I was never one of those girls that gave up everything I had to be in relationship (WHICH RANKS SO HIGH ON MY FUCKING PET PEEVES LIST), but I’m choosing to live my life differently now. But because of this, I feel like I’m setting myself up for failure. When my boyfriend at the time used to complain about me stressing out about life, I used to tell him that I didn’t want to wake up when I’m 40 with three kids and have nothing to show for it in terms of my goals. And now I just feel like I’m going to wake up when I’m 40 with a lot of my goals taken care of, and no one to show for it. It’s a different sort of worry.

I have a nasty habit of settling for people. I either love you or I don’t. And I don’t mean love vs. hate, I mean more like need all the time vs. indifferent. And you can imagine that the people I love tend to get overwhelmed, because that’s how I am - overwhelming. Sometimes I catch myself faking crushes and feelings and want for people because I have no idea how those kinds of feelings come around naturally anymore. I just imitate what other girls do and hope it works out for me as much as it seems to work out for them, but it never does. And that’s partially where my jealousy comes in. I feel uncomfortable a lot because I don’t understand why I don’t feel that way about someone, well someone obtainable anyway. I find myself fuming with jealousy, not over the people involved, but rather why I can’t keep my shit together for 30 seconds and pretend like cuddling and kisses and pillow talk make me feel better. Because they don’t, and I have no idea why.

My favorite conversational topic among friends usually occurs when they lose someone they love very much. I don’t mean death, but like they break up, or the person is just a dick for whatever reason and leaves. And they go on talking about how badly they want this person, and they might cry, or get angry or frustrated about why life seems to work out for them the way it did. And they talk to me like I’m stupid. “Oh, but you wouldn’t understand Kerry”. Like I don’t know what it’s like to feel absolutely pure and biased love for someone. Like I’m incapable of that feeling because of “how I am”. It hurts. It hurts just as badly as being pushed away, yelled at, talked badly about for loving someone. “How I am” only exists because it has to. It’s a defense mechanism from those people in my past that have hurt me – emotionally, physically, mentally etc. – but also the people that have kindly reminded me that I’m just not quite good enough.

Even being not quite good enough, I’ve found something to be too good at. Sex. Unfortunately  its to the point where people have no idea what to do with me. They’re scared. Like I’m kind of like that girl that guys talk about – “I wish I had this girl that was just great in bed and wasn’t up my ass all the time”. And I’m not writing this as an ego boost. Today isn’t a cocky day for me. It’s just an observation. A frustrating fucking observation. I turn self-proclaimed douchebags into obsessed, drooling little boys. I’ve heard “will you be my girlfriend?” multiple times after the first date. (side note here: fucking on the first date shouldn’t be so scolded upon. C’mon now, we all know why we’re here).  It gets old real quick. Granted, I’m a psychopath and I know it, but sometimes I feel like these guys are waiting for me to turn into Medusa or something. I usually have no need to fuck anybody over, or am looking for money, marriage, or a free ride. But they just don’t get it. And I pay the price for it. We’ll call it a curse.

The sex tends to scare my friends too. Like I’m out hunting for your boyfriend or that guy you like. Or like I’m out hunting for your girlfriend or that girl you like. Ha. See what I did there? Whatever. What’s a sex life without a little confusion? And I’ll admit it – I have a habit of sleeping with people in relationships, but only because I know that they can’t stalk me out and we have to keep things quiet. They’re tied to someone else and can clean themselves up and go back to their lives without me when we’re done. It’s the safest for my sanity. It should be pointed out that I’ve never had anything with any of my friends’ significant others. I know what that feels like, and I wouldn’t try to steal someone that a friend has feelings for. It makes me sad at how threatened people are by me sometimes. I’ve lost multiple friends over ill-accusations, threesomes that didn’t work out the way they wanted, being “too good of friends” with boyfriends. It’s funny too – I’ve never told anyone this really, so why not post it to the internet for everyone’s enjoyment, buttttt…I’ve had this creepy stalker since high school. If they notice me talking to someone too much on facebook, or hear about me hanging around with someone too much, the person I’m seeing will get an anonymous phone call or a message from a fake account, explaining that I’m sleeping around, and I’m a whore, and all these other fun tidbits of information about my life, that I didn’t even really know about myself. I keep my life secretive specifically for this reason, you know, keeping my potential love life off the internet and people’s mouths, and it’s only escalated as I’ve gotten older. No wonder why people either think I’m a skeevy slut hooker or a dirty rug munching bull dyke. Just more things to add to life’s little price tag.

The Kerry Quirk double standard is a good way to look at my life. If you walked into your friends house at 7:30 AM and found them drinking wine, you would say “Oh my God, _________ is so funny! She would be drinking wine this early. Ha!”. Not if it was me though. If I had stated from the beginning of this post that I was drinking wine and eating Pierogis this early, none of it would’ve been taken seriously. And not only that, I would probably get a “Kerry, does your shrink know that you’re drinking this early?” Double standard. Because I’m so open, people think they know exactly everything I feel, everything I’m going to say, the reason for my actions. Sometimes they probably do, but its frustrating as fuck to not be taken seriously. Like my feelings, my actions, my thoughts don’t matter because you think you know everything about me. I feel stuck in this world where everyone is begging me to be normal for their sanity, and when I try and show a little bit of normalcy, I’m stuck under a magnifying glass – why is she acting like that, what’s the back story, who is she directing that to? No matter how you choose to read me, I’m not that person. Kerry the whore, Kerry the lesbian, Kerry the crazy bitch at parties, Kerry the loner, Kerry the girl I fell in love with. I’m not ANY of those fucking things. My name is Kerry and I’m really just looking to be loved and accepted by people for everything I bring to the table. Nothing more nothing less.

You can all vomit now and go back to real life.