I can't remember the last time I'd had to completely retract from a position that I had taken and ask for a second chance with my tail between my legs. Even just thinking, let alone typing, these words - 'ask for a second chance' - makes me feel uncomfortable, as if this concept of asking someone that I have treated rather unfairly for forgiveness is alien to me. Perhaps that's because it is.
I'm feeling a bit anxious about seeing him tomorrow. I don't know what he's thinking; he didn't respond to my long message, save to ask when I'm available. Should I take it as a good sign that he's willing to meet and talk? It doesn't seem helpful at all to say that I wouldn't entertain this if I were him, and then use how I would hypothetically behave as the yardstick, because I think I am more on the unforgiving, won't-take-shit-from-anyone side.
But why be like this? If this mini fiasco has made me realise anything, it's that I need to let go of the anger that I'm clearly still holding on to - anger towards Matt, and more importantly, anger towards myself. But there's a prior issue: why am I even angry? Is anger an appropriate response to a dating partner who pretended that things were fine when he was almost certain of leaving, or alternatively, a dating partner who didn't have the balls to break it off? Why should I be angry? At the same time, I don't know how else, and with what other emotion, I can possibly react to this.
Is that not because I'm spoiled, though? I don't get what I want, things don't go my way, and so I lash out like a child, like a little girl with a princess complex. In the same vein, prior to 2017, I hadn't experienced a lot of rejection from men; not just that - I hadn't experienced a lot of a lack of feeling from the person that I dated. So the lethal combination of my princess complex and my inexperience with rejection has led me to the person that I have become today: guarded, defensive, harsh, unforgiving, categorical. It's one thing to learn from one's mistakes; quite another to drag past mistakes into the present.
While I think that my interpretation of his unforthcoming text messages over the past few days was not entirely unjustified, what I am sorry about was my acting as judge, jury and executor all at once without giving him the opportunity to explain - and by doing so, I dragged my 2017 baggage into a present situation that had nothing to do with what had happened in the past. This, I think, is the difference between learning a lesson from your past and letting it pollute the present. I was too quick, too eager, too fanatical, to protect myself; and in this relentless quest for self-preservation, I presumed him guilty, gave him no right to a fair trial, let alone a right of reply, and did the most unlawyer-y thing that I could have done.
Like Raffie said on Messenger when I was texting him about Thomas's failure to reply to my message about meeting, 'YOU'RE A LAWYER!' What a shame when I let my emotions get in the way of making a rational, considered decision. What a hypocrite, too; don't I always rail against other people's irrationality and irrational behaviour? How rational was I when I unilaterally decided that he was guilty of being uninterested and 'dumped' him, almost as a knee-jerk reaction?
And so from this I conclude that I need to let go of whatever resentment that I still harbour towards Matt. It's not worth it to begin with because he wasn't worth it towards the end; but it's even less worthy of any continued tethering on to any part of my being because it might have cost me a potentially good dating partner. Before I became all paranoid and crazy, I had a good feeling about Thomas. I liked the person that he's shown to me, I liked his quiet confidence, I liked his manliness, I liked that he was in a good place and had his life sorted (as far as I knew, anyway). I liked spending time with him. I'd wanted to move it along, escalate it.
And what did I do when things felt a bit off?
Raffie was right. I should have just talked to him. But at least I'd get the chance to clear the air. So we will see what happens.
On a lighter note, Raffie and I watched Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (or something like that) tonight. We both loved it. I love the dark comedy; it was clever, witty, spot-in, have I mentioned clever? This is probably my favourite type of comedy: the smart type, the almost-irreverent type, its timing unexpected and so oh-so-effective. At the same time, there was something deeper and darker and more tragic going on, too. The mother whose daughter was raped and murdered, her rage at the unsolved nature of the crime and the culprit going free, her taking out this rage on the police department by way of the billboards, if only just to feel like she was doing something. The characters, too, are multi-layered and complex, driving the story in an entirely believable and heartbreakingly human way.
I was especially struck by a single scene that wasn't even significant in the larger scheme of the film. One of the characters got beaten up in a bar, and he goes back to the house that he lives in with his mother. He locks himself in the bathroom, treating his wounds, while his mother bangs on the bathroom door and wails, 'My baby boy!'
Earlier, we were introduced to the man and his mother. His mother is a flaming racist, basically a shitty human being with shitty values. But in that one scene, that open display of anguish, she became, at least for me, a person, a human being; and not just a racist. It made me think of the complexity of human nature; how even racists have people that they love and people that love them.
Anyway, so yeah - great film. Very happy I watched it, and with a friend who has superior taste in films! It was hilarious how he told me over dinner that Thor 3, which John and I dragged him to watch, was the worst movie he's seen in a long time. He doesn't understand why people like me sometimes feel the need to switch off completely, not engage the brain, let alone the emotions. The Marvel movies are great for that: they're entertaining, generally well-acted and well-produced, and you don't have to think about anything, or feel anything. Sometimes, I really need that.