1. The story of the elusive summer camp boyfriend. “Boyfriend” was a stretch. Frankly? Calling it a stretch is a stretch. We kissed, but only one time. This was before texting so naturally after my mom drove me home in her Ford Explorer I never saw or heard from him ever again. I don’t even know if I ever learned his last name. But I was 13, had a flair for the dramatic, was on the cusp of what I (then) saw as maturity and I wanted to have a boyfriend story. So I exaggerated to the point of it not really just being embellishment but an actual lie. Whatever. We’ll always have that weird kiss on a hay bale.
2. The only thing I’m 100% sure of is my heterosexuality. Lol. No. I’m just fucking gay. And internalized homophobia is super deep and plants roots and moves in and will convince you of something so thoroughly you don’t even register it as a possibility for 24 years and then you end up in bed with a girl who is so fresh out of a breakup her ex still has clothes in the closet and you realize that everything you previously thought you were “100% sure of” you were “100% wrong” about. And when you see her married to that was-an-ex you’ll wonder if he ever heard about what she did one December after a bunch of guys were hitting on her in a bar. And then you’ll move on and just continue trying to live a more authentic, happy life. So anyway. No. Not straight.
3. That I would never cheat or be a part of someone else cheating. If there’s anything I learned in my twenties is that almost nothing is black and white. Things get grey. Being flawed and making choices that have a ripple effect on others is not a capital offense. I used to think the opposite. I thought the worst thing you could do to someone was something you knew could really, really, really hurt them. I don’t anymore. I think that people are just people and things happen and sometimes you make a conscious choice that isn’t your proudest moment. I don’t think things are simple. I don’t think clear answers exist in a lot of scenarios. If I’m being honest I don’t fully know what I think anymore, just that it’s not (and never was) black and white. It never made anyone a monster even if I used to think it was the reason to be afraid.
4. I think I am…impossible? Or at least nearly so, to love. I have, as they say in the architecture world, good bones. I could probably use some renovation—there are cracks in the metaphorical foundation and some walls that could use a fresh coat of paint. I think I’m done in some areas. There are places where I’ve done the work and finished and feel complete. But there are still rooms where things are falling apart. Where I don’t keep it together as much as I’d like the general public to believe. Regardless, there’s a lot here to work with. There’s a lot here worth investing in. (I will read this in therapy next week as proof that I don’t always hate myself tysm.)
5. I think only my dog would miss me. Logically I know this is untrue. But when you live alone and you spend two weeks alone and are facing more time alone and can’t meet up with the people you consider yourself closest to it starts to feel accurate. But maybe we’re all ultimately forgettable? Maybe that’s the true great equalizer.
6. I think I’m a failure who is just very, very good at smoke and mirrors. (shrugs in Virgo)
7. I’ve never listened to the reputation album. Okay this is only “mostly” a lie. I haven’t listened to the entire album and I don’t care to, even recent drama resurgence aside. But Delicate hits me in my bones. It is the kind of song that after I caved and listened to in full for the first time I felt it reverberating around in my chest. I can be mad at Taylor Swift for a lot and also admit that the lady can write a damn song. I can dislike stan culture and still say, “I relate to that.” If she can be layered so can I. K!?!?!?!?!?
8. I never hooked up with that one guy. I did. And not even like…once. It happened multiple times. I wonder if he also lies about it. I wonder if his wife knows. I wonder if that like…seared her hatred of me in further. We’ll never know because I’ll literally never talk about it outside of being annoyingly vague and that! is! that! on that!
9. I won’t do anything stupid. If I’m being completely transparent I think I’m always going to do stupid things that result in me getting nudes on a Wednesday, losing clothes to people, and writing drafts that sit in WordPress for 6 months before I hit publish. Smoke and mirrors, remember?
10. I love you. I was scared when I said it because I’d never said it that soon and I clearly was right in being scared.
11. Okay maybe ten was a lie. Or maybe I just wish it was. And we’ll never have the definitive answer, will we?
12. I don’t pay attention to what she does. Something I never want to admit is how deeply I give a fuck. Which is…unattractive at best and deeply fucked up at worst. Blame it on my Cancer moon! But I notice…everything. I see everything, I borderline make it my business to know everything. So, of course I know what she’s doing. Of course I know. Of course I’m paying attention. And of course it takes tiny bites out of me. Of course it does do you even know me at all?
13. I’d never hook up you again. I craved and needed and accepted any piece of you I could get at any moment and I think a part of me always will.
14. I don’t write anymore. I just don’t publish anymore, or at least that most people would know of.
15. I care. Who honestly cares about anything anymore?
16. I don’t care. But let’s be real. Everyone knows this was never even remotely a possibility.