Frustration
I think one of the reasons I stay mad for so long for so many reasons is because, at the end of the day, I can’t forgive myself for making the bad choices that lead me to shitty situations in the first place…
Right now I’m just fucking pissed the fuck off for saying yes to going to New Orleans. I used to love vacations. Now I’m so stressed out that I can’t enjoy anything. Saying yes to a vacation taking place one month before finals was a fantastic idea. NOT. Saying yes to going to a place where there are tons of people was a fantastic idea. NOT. Saying yes to a vacation I can’t afford was a fantastic idea. NOT. These ideas in my head are, therefore, just not fantastic.
I am now sitting here pissed the fuck off because I went to New Orleans despite being broke. I went there despite the fact that I don’t drink. I went there despite the fact that my boyfriend wants to fuck everything that moves and I hate it. I should have stayed home and now I really just have no one to blame but myself.
I really just wanted this to be a nice weekend where Dyl got to see his old friends a little, we would go for some meals, walk around Bourbon Street and show off our costumes, go to the casino, go shopping, explore, etc. But it ended up with Thursday night and him getting drunk after going to a bar to meet up with his ex-girlfriend and eating dinner there, then walking back. Friday was lunch with her and her husband, which was great. I really like them. But then there was mention of VIP tickets to some place called the Dungeon and he took them and agreed to go. All of his friends were going, friends he hadn’t seen in at least two years. Am I supposed to say no after he already agreed? Right, that’s realistic. I’m the cunt that’s gonna say “NO WE’RE NOT DOING THAT EVEN THOUGH YOU ALREADY SAID YES” to going out and you seeing all your friends. YUP, I’m that bitch. NO. So right there, our evening was accounted for. Dinner was not great. I picked the place. Sadly, there’s nothing around that part of Bourbon that I wanted to eat. Then he agreed to meet another friend at 8, before going to that VIP party thing or whatever. Ok. 8 o’clock you get to start drinking. Awesome. Then he’s like, let’s head out at 7 and walk around in our costumes. Sure. There’s nothing else I wanted to do. Glad you have it all planned out.
So we start walking at 7, and end up at the bar to meet his friend shortly thereafter. I stand around awkward in my sock monkey outfit for a while, say hi to whoever I get introduced to while drinking my diet coke. Then I really start meeting his friends. One after another after another. Then finally it’s onward to the Dungeon. So earlier, he had told me that I should have asked about the Dungeon since it turned out to be a Goth club that was overcrowded and way to smokey. Awful smokey. Firealarm smokey. Holding-back-tears-because-my-eyes-hurt smokey. I obviously could have and should have known that it was going to be a Goth club? Really? For the record, Dungeon could signify ANYTHING, such as perhaps a club that is in a basement. Nothing about the name strikes me as “whoa, I should really ask about this.” But clearly, since I listen to so much Goth music and dress in all black, there was no reason to give me a heads up. TOTALLY foreseeable.
So we’re there. And I’m standing around in a corner. Nothing really bothered me until 1) a girl that he introduced me to decided to put his hands on her boobs right after and 2) he decided to stare at two girls making out with his mouth hanging open. I think between those two events I started thinking about changing my flight to Saturday morning. So finally we leave the Dungeon, but only to the courtyard, where it’s still hot and crowded with people going in and out, and people smoking. I leave because I honestly thought we were all leaving. I waited outside, away from all the smoke and heat. Then we walk… and walk and walk and walk. At this point, it’s 11pm, I’ve been on my feet between standing still and walking for four hours… in footy pajamas and 4 year old uggs. Super comfortable. We walk forever and end up at a bar kinda far away. There’s no one in it at first. I’m still not drinking. At this point, I’m just stressed out because I’m not having fun. On the walk over, they’re all talking amongst each other. The guy with the banana suit is being a prick. I’m just walking alone. We get there, I stand in the middle of the bar alone for a good amount of time with his ex checking up on me every couple of minutes. Most of the seats are taken. I went outside to smoke twice without anyone realized I had gone anywhere. Finally, I just stayed out there until he came and then I said I was going home. My knee started to give out and I was getting awful shin splints.
So I took a cab home with the creepiest cabby ever. Gross. I get back to the hotel at around midnight and obviously the room we have is next to the outside bar area for the hotel so there’s a group of people chanting people’s names probably for chugging, since we’re all in college and in frats. Obviously. I was annoyed but I passed the fuck out 10 minutes later anyway because I was exhausted and in pain. (After calling United to see how much it would cost to change my flight). But don’t worry. I was woken up by boyfriend at 3 a.m. when he came stumbling in, black out drunk. He sat next to me, shook me awake during a r.e.m. cycle, only to go pass out on his bed and snore the loudest I’ve ever heard in my life while I couldn’t sleep. So I slept about three to four hours, got out of bed, decided I couldn’t do it anymore, woke up him and changed my flight.
Drastic, you say? Give it a change, you say? I did. And I even went a whole 24 hours without being a bitch even though I didn’t want to do ANYTHING that he agreed to do with his friends. The entire time I just felt like a 7th or 9th or whatever odd number wheel. Here I am, in this group of people that I don’t know. They don’t give a fuck about me, and I don’t really blame them - I’m dating their actual FRIEND that they haven’t seen in two years. Fuck me, they want to know all about him and how he’s doing, which is obviously not unreasonable. But at the end of the day, I was just like… do I really need to be here? Do I need to go to that Halloween party where I don’t know anyone Saturday night? Do I need to be in a city full of AA qualifiers when I don’t even drink? Do I really need to be here while boyfriend stares at and touches other women? Is this necessary? I have stuff to do. I have things to read and outlines to complete. I have an apartment where I can sit alone and I don’t have to deal with drunk people or people who I don’t matter to. All of Friday just felt like I was intruding on a family reunion. And not even like crashing one, but more of watching one go one from behind a barrier, while just feeling like I don’t belong there and I have no business watching. I still feel pretty fucking shitty about it. All I wanted to do was sit at the casino and see how long I could make 50$ last and go see some animals, then check out the cemeteries since they’re famous and go to all the shops. Too much to ask.
I guess what I really need to do is just learn how to say no.
Do you want to go to New Orleans? No.
Do you want to go to the bar? No.
Do you want to go to these parties? No. (In all fairness, this wasn’t something I said yes too since I was never asked)
Do you want to stay in a hotel that is way too nice for absolutely no reason? No.
Do you want to go to goth clubs? No.
Do you want to accompany me while I go see a bunch of people that I haven’t seen in a long time that you don’t know? (I now know that this answer is) no.
Do you want to sit around while I get drunk? No.
So now I am aware that if there are any situations where I am posed a question like the ones above, I will immediately answer no. I don’t think I will ever go back to New Orleans. It’s just not my style, not all the factors combined anyway. I just don’t live, nor do I appreciate, that lifestyle. At all. I know that my way of thinking is just completely sick-up-the-ass, but I’ve never thought that being drunk is the best way to have fun. Sorry. I would say that it’s not my “thing” but in reality, I hate it. I don’t care if people I don’t really know are drunk. I’m not their life coach, I don’t give fucks about what they do. But walking around for four days while your boyfriend gets drunk and generally just makes you upset? No thanks. I’ll pass. I just really wish people would understand the situation they put me in before telling me “oh you should have said no.”
Vacation failed.
Dina: more pissed off and stressed out than ever before.
