an exercise in pouting

I languished in my soft chair and ottoman all day watching Dawson’s Creek season three on DVD and occasionally reading this P Highsmith book I’ve been neglecting. This was my Sunday.

Un-showered and pouting all evening because my friends didn’t invite me on their excursion to the day at the state fair. I wouldn’t have gone because that’s the kind of mood I am in but I was let down all the same. Now I find myself in this all too familiar place wondering why I feel let down. And, simultaneously asking the question as to why I consistently have this stupid emotion.

I’ve never held my lovers to such high expectations. It’s only my friends who must live up to my “higher than the empire state building expectations”. Each and every one measured to some insane degree of trust exercises and who will inevitably fail by comparison. I am most perplexed by the double standard and how I am unable to assess them with the same measure that I do my lovers.

I guess I just expect the lovers to fail me anyway. I am never surprised and rarely even caught off guard by the ending of a relationship.

As for my friends, they fall. I pick them back up and dust them off and place them back on the lift, only to knock them right back off at the slightest tremor. I am so crushed by their slights and their lack of considerations. I just can’t see how they are really minor. In some impossible way, my friends are my last hope for family and unconditional love. How incredibly unrealistic that is? Nothing unconditional in that.. is there? None of my relationships are easy and I only have myself to blame. Let me just say that it sucks, I suck and once again I am tired of trying at all.