Now why I don't trust many women  

rm_loneremily 33F
380 posts
7/27/2006 12:34 pm

Last Read:
8/8/2006 4:56 pm

Now why I don't trust many women

Start from the beginning, again. Mom. Any distrust for women will always go back to mom, btw.

My mom is the type that will tell you to conquer anything. You don't need a man. You can do anything yourself. My dad says these things, too--but my dad never did the hurtful things to me that my mom has.

When I wanted to pursue dance; mom was the one to tell me not to bother with it because of her side of the family. I would later learn through my profound interest in psychology that if a person starts young enough, has encouragement and praise, their neurotransmitters will strengthen the part of the brain for whatever said task they are attempting... So had I continued and had support--I might be a singer AND dancer, today.

That's a pretty tame example. It gets worse.

My first real "best friend" was one that attended my day care with me in kindergarten. This is where I got the brunt of my torment from the guy that ended up fiddling with my nether regions. He was what I like to call an "Instigater." Much more than a mere "bully," the Instigater manages to get a group of people into a conglomerate mob of hatred. Feeding off of one another--these wretches can and will do the most dispicable things to a child. They say the worst things, throw the worst punches, give the biggest hogpiles. All while under the supervision of the day care provider (yes, she saw--but did NOTHING to stop it--notice I also wrote SHE).

My "best friend" was ALWAYS part of the mob. She'd punch and kick and swear and do all of the other nasty things the other kids did. One day--when she caught me far away from the other kids playing:
"Why aren't you playing with us?"
"Because you guys are mean to me. I don't want to play. I thought you were my friend. Why don't you help me?"
"I'm only your friend when they aren't around." Ended friendship number one.

MY second best friend never participated in that sort of thing. She was the type to always have my back--and I always had hers. We were inseperable. I figure if I hadn't ever moved, we would be friends to this day.

When I DID move, however, our contact was only on the phone and through the post. We always wrote to one another. We put in stickers and pictures--every now and again sending a care package. We'd be on the phone for hours (because even though we were forty miles away, it wasn't long distance. We'd talk about when we could finally stay together for a week.

WELL!!! One year, I had the opportunity. She and I had a week during the summer that I could come and visit. Our parents had worked it out--I was so excited!

But she was not. Had second thoughts. Said that it was a good time to end the friendship. She had moved on. I felt very alone.

Now--this was going on at the same time my best guy bud decided NOT to be my friend because of the dude down the street. Luckily for me, I had one friend left; another female.

She lived across the street. Nice and close. We still had sleepovers. We were always together. She thought I was really funny. We liked the same music, clothes, and had the same hobbies (crafts). She had to have have surgery on her hip--she never explained why to a degree that I could understand... But she ended up in a half-body cast from the waist down and couldn't move from her bed for six months.

I was at her side everyday. I got her food and drink. We watched shows and did our crafts and spoke about boys and the whole bit.

Finally--her cast came off. She had to go through rehabilitation that was difficult--but I cheered her along as best as I could. In the end, though, she had quite the hobble about her walk. She was a beautiful, happy, healthy gimp. Her hair was always long and lustrous--I found myself brushing and styling it lovingly on many occassions.

When she went back to school, the first thing she got was teased. I ripped her tormenters new ones. What the hell is wrong with you? Have you no conscience? Are you so stupid that you would feel joy from the suffering of others? You should be ashamed of yourselves!

Then, I became the target. Much like my last bully, the one that had stolen my best guy bud was an instigater, too. Although I didn't get the physical piece as from the last bully, I did have to hear fro the entire bus. All except for my friend. I could tell she felt really bad about what was happening to me; but she was too cowardly to speak up.

I didn't blame her. It was a tough thing to stand up to the crowd like that. But I had to let her go--it was too hurtful for her to just watch without fighting for my honor. I did not hate her. I still don't. I just look for more in a friend.

My next "best friend" lived down the block. She was boisterous and roudy. She not only stuck up for her friends, but she would even get up and start swinging. She could also kick my ass any day (very few of my friends could ever say such a thing) so I didn't want to get on her bad side.

The trouble was that it was easy to get on her bad side. She treated me like I was a pest. My ideas were stupid. My family was stupid. I didn't know how to dress myself (like I had a choice in what my mom bought for me). I was no fun at all, it seemed. But she called me everyday--and I didn't have any other friends.

It got to the point where she was attacking me just as much as my bully did. Very verbally abusive, hanging out with her could lead to thoughts of suicide. One day I got to thinking, "You know what? She's a really lousy friend! I'd rather be by myself all day, everyday than hang out with someone that is so mean to me.

Hence, the idea of being a "loner" came into play.

The problem? My sister. She was always jealous of me--to this day considers me to be the cuter sister. To her I was perfect. To her, I was full of myself (she couldn't have been more wrong if she tried). She spent her days taking me down a few. Much like my bully, she could get my bro to chime in, too. Being at home meant that I had to suffer through her and whatever reasons I should be "shot."

That's when I started rollerblading. I would rollerblade until my legs felt numb. Regardless of the heat. I would find a place to be by myself, pull out my gamegear and play until my batteries died. Every now and again, I'd bring a book and read it front to back before going home. I had several little spots around town that nobody knew about. I never ran into anybody. There were no phones. I was away from everybody. That's the only time I felt free.

Although I enjoyed most of my time to myself; I did long for companionship. I sought out a new friend. This friend was considered much prettier than I was by everybody. She, herself, remarked about it on many occassions. At this time--when we were always together--I felt like she was a true friend that I could trust... And it just so happened that I'd remembered something from my past that was really bugging me.

I'd told my "friend" about the bully-turned-friend that touched me. She seemed jealous. Acted like only pretty girls got molested (which also insinuated that I was ugly--two disses in one comment). She kicked me out of her house (it was a sleepover) citing my lack of interest for playing in the snow--I didn't have the proper attire, in case you were wondering--otherwise I would've.

Back to being alone for a while. That was quite the blow.

So--I told my mom about the incident now fresh in my memory. She nonchalantly said that the boy ws "experimenting" and didn't mean any harm. I should just forget about it. I also should not tell anyone else because it would just make them feel sad.

With the first attempt on my life, I remembered thinking about how badly I pissed people off and/or made them sad. I was a hindrance upon the lives of others. I brought about cruelty in others. They would be better off if I weren't here.

Seeing as I'm still here, my 11-year-old self didn't pull off suicide too well. My sister let me have it. She and my brother took me to the garage when my folks weren't around.

She told me to my face (looking coldly into my eyes) that although I deserved to die (her words), taking my own life was a selfish act. I was just looking for attention (a frequent misconception about those who are suicidal). My brother nodded in agreement beside her (see what I meant in my other long blog about being thrown to the wolves).

That's when I developed a bed-wetting problem. I felt like quite the loser.

I went through a few more "best friends." Never allowing myself to get too attached to them for fear of a repeat like their predecessors.

And then, of course, I did get another truly best friend. She and I never fought. We were always considerate of each others' feelings. After a few years--we were in high school. She got a few more friends (church-folk... People I often have trouble speaking with about religion) and decided to have a slumber party.

Her friends (the new ones) bore far more importance to her. It didn't bother me much until the conversation turned to pre-marital sex. Hers was the standpoint that it was terrible and they'd go to hell and yadda, yadda, yadda. When I was asked (and I wished that I could've lied about it--but I don't like to lie, and I had no problems voicing my opinion among FRIENDS) I said that if a person is mature in themselves, plays it safe, and is realistic in their expectations I didn't see a problem with it.

She and her bible-thumping friend were infuriated. They then asked about homosexuality. At the time, I felt that I was bisexual--although I've never been with a woman, I still consider this to be the case. I spared them that little nugget (thankfully for me). I told them I didn't see anything wrong with someone being in love with someone of the same sex, and what they did behind their bedroom door was none of my business.

She and her extremely religious friend locked themselves in her room with a bible to prove me wrong that god hated gays. Sweet. What good, wholesome, christian people--able to hate and judge on a whim like that. I had never been more hurt or angry in my life.

As I was leaving she said, "You know, we FOUND the verse that said that god hates gays..."
"And I don't want to hear it! If you want me to stop believing in god; you'll tell me that verse!"

I am Atheist these days--but it's purely based on scientific discoveries--not hardcore "christian" assholes that shove their hateful tripe down your thoat. I'm not talking about Joe-shmoe that regularly goes to church and gives to the needy. I rather like Joe. Joe has hope and peace.

I'm talking those Matthew-Sheppard-funeral-picketing-extreme-gay-hating fucks that make life for decent people harder, saying horrible things, having distastful web sites; all the while using a bible for a shield of their own insecurities.

Anyway--she was one of those. I hadn't realize until then. After that day she made it known how much she that gays were "disgusting." I started to hate her. Alone, again.

Then I got my crew. Sarah, Chika, Elsabet and me. Sarah was a thumper, too--but not in a bad sense--I was still able to like her. Chika claimed to be a "good girl" but I could see right through her. Her grossness was hilarious--think "Bad Santa" kind of vulgar. Elsabet I was never sure about. Every now and again a hint of naughty would come about--but because I didn't want to expose MY true nature... There's no way I wanted to push hers.

We were friends for a long while until I got in with a group of goths. The girls in that group were never afraid to share anything. Although I didn't discard my other group--I spent most of my time with the new one.

They had more time, anyway! Unlike my friends, I didn't need long to study to maintain good grades. My other, more innocent, group of friends were in the difficult classes with me, but they needed to spend hours on their homework every night. I took a study hall and completed everything at school. That left my evenings the booze, bud, and a more exciting group of boys and girls.

I still didn't mention that I was bi. I think I did this so I wouldn't get any offers from the other girls in the group (it didn't work, they offered all of the time). I considered them very, very close friends. They were the kinds of friends that had a shoulder for you to cry on. They didn't thinkI was weird for having depression (therapy sessions had decided that this was my problem, at the time) because they had it, too and they wanted to kill themselves, as well. On many occassions.

Keeping close contact with BOTH sets of friends... I became pregnant at eighteen. Only the guys would talk to me. Pretty much alone, AGAIN. But the guys weren't like they were, before. They were never flirty and fun--always acted strange around me.

All of my girlfriends were GONE, with exception of Elsabet. She is truly my best bud.
My bond with my sister is now strong--I'm glad we were able to overcome our differences. I was even the maid of honor at her wedding (although I secretly believe that she made the wedding two weeks after I had my youngest so I'd look like the good year blimp).

Knowing the Elsabet is FREAKIER than I am makes me feel better about myself. Like maybe I'm normal. I would like to be "normal." Alas, though, 22 year old mothers of three are NOT normal.


And there's why I don't trust chicks, either. They never really got violent with me (those that picked fights with me in the past I'm sure wished that they didn't), but women are able to fuck with your head SO much better than any guy ever could.

But I figure, my sis and my bud (OH, I do have another best bud I met in college who is also a mother that is a freak) are good enough for female interaction, right? I'm satisfied with that amount.

Although I find talking to men more interesting--I find there's usually a reason why they wish to speak with me. So, therefore, it's over rated.

I find solace in my babies. I'm the type of person that says, "Oh my gosh, look at the little baby-waby! Let me see that baby! I wanna hold the baby!"

I love kids. And that's good; because my house has kids flying out of the walls and the ceilings. They are special. I haven't felt the pangs of sadness. With the outting of their father, I figured I'd be right back to the therapist, for sure. Nope. I actually feel GREAT (WTF).

I think it's because I feel like I have a lot more control now that he's gone. I think that I probably feel like I'll keep control if I DON'T introduce any new people into my tin hut world.

It's a good theory--and probably true--but probably NOT the best way to live. What do you think?

strokerman01 34M
43 posts
7/27/2006 6:55 pm

Wow.. Now THAT is a blog entry

LunarIncubus 36M/34F

7/28/2006 8:06 am

Most guys on here, and probably out there will mainly come to you with one thing on thier mind. I honostly believe that if you took out that factor, guys would never make friends.

I am not saying its a great scenario, but physical is often what brings people to open that first line of communication. For me, its usually what makes me wish I could open that line of communication. Put me in a bar by myself and I will leave, put me there with someone I am comfortable with, I'll sit with them, maybe drink a lil, can't too much because I have an ulcer, and never talk to anyone else first. Atleast not the opposite sex. If your cute, and I don't know you, I will be to shy to do anything about it. Thats why I think most of my gf's have come from the net. Rejection is so much easier to take from a computer monitor. Even so, it sucks.

Gossip_Anyone 40F

7/28/2006 9:41 am

my mom told me i wouldn't ammount to anything.

Gossip_Anyone 40F

7/28/2006 9:44 am

I can feel you, my sis. I've always had male friends because the girls always backstabbed me for one guy or another.

rm_loneremily 33F
328 posts
7/28/2006 2:24 pm

My mother called me talentless and worthless. She would later recant what she said--but it still rings in my mind the mean things she's said.

Girls are GREAT backstabbers! A guy will punch you in the face. Usually, you'll have it coming--girls... NO! EVIL, EVIL beings many of us are!

Choozmi 50M

7/29/2006 1:48 pm

I think some (not all) of the evil doings you describe above can be attributed to youth as easily as to the sex of the offender.

Some of the horrible deeds I witnessed/suffered when I was little astonish (and scar) me. I did a few nasty things, too.

Big hug.


8/2/2006 2:23 pm

Beautiful Mily,
I am so sorry that you had to experience such evil by others.
You are perfect darling, you are a mommy a sister and a great friend I am sure. I feel bad that our chromosome has left you so jaded abd traumatized. Do not let your past friends clear any chance of a future connection with someone who may be quite the opposite of what you have known.
Never give up hope darling

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