It's a little contrived.
A little forced.
It's too.....well it's just too much like every other asshole.
And I'm a unique snowflake, dammit!
I hate blending in with the masses.
So instead of Setting a New Year's Resolution, I quietly told myself I was going to quit one of my less than lovely attributes:
From now on, when upset, I will no longer bring up the past.
The past mistakes, the past hurts, The Way We Were crap, none of it.
Just present in the moment, accepting all that is instead of dwelling on what was.
-Which is completely different than setting a resolution. Obviously.-
I felt kinda proud of myself.
Hit the personal growth quotient, the being better to others factor and I'd decided it all on my own without even telling anyone about it.
Snaps for me.
I'd really outdone myself.
This was going to be the New Me for the New Year.
Yeah.
I made it a day.
We planned on watching a movie.
We were gonna eat popcorn and drink this fancy beer we'd been saving and it was going to be awesome.
Instead he sort of got sucked into playing this game for three hours.
The thing was, I really didn't care.
At first.
I was watching my show on Netflix and just generally enjoyed being lazy.
-Does anyone else agree with me that "How I met your Mother" is a really great show but that Ted, the lead guy, is really annoying??-
I figured we could always watch the movie another night since it was getting late.
I really didn't give a shit.
But men have this really adorable quality when they feel guilty for screwing something up and instead of just apologizing and making some gesture to set things right they find a way to get really defensive and somehow make what they did your fault so you shift from complacent and accepting to This Shit Just Got Real! mode.
I am such a bitch when I'm mad.
And just like that, like some trigger, he flipped my switch, and I started bringing up all the tiny, stupid, bullshit things that pissed me off from last year -Okay, not ALL of them, obviously, because no one is THAT thorough -and I had one of those out of body experiences where you can't stop what you're doing, it's like a flooding of words escaping your body and I just thought..........what the hell happened?
It's fucking January 2nd.
I made it a day??!
I resolved not to do this, to drudge up the past when I'm pissed, and 24 hours later that's exactly what I'm doing?
This was the real reason I hated resolutions.
It's set up for failure.
It's a way to feel like you're without because more likely than not, you will inevitably not succeed at keeping your resolution because they're always things that are out of character.
And my character is pretty damn set.
And then I had a revelation.
I will never be the kind of woman who doesn't irrationally do things she shouldn't, like bring up a past that has no relevance to anything happening today.
I will never be the kind of woman who, when provoked, purrs softly and doesn't emotionally vomit all over the people she cares about most.
That is who I am!
I am crazy!
Emotional, passionate, capable of all out insanity crazy.
And instead of trying to change aspects of that to fit some idea of who I Should Be, I'm going to say instead, that I vow to love and rock the body that does fuck up from time to time.
Because without those idiotic symptoms of all that is Resa, I wouldn't be.
And I'm fucking fabulous.
Crazy's just a part of that.
Crazy is the sequins on my curve hugging dress.
And the truth is, things only ended well anyway.
Sometimes epic fuckups are the moments you realize people love you anyway.
And instead of getting mad back and having a fight or sending me home or telling me to go hang out with his douche canoe neighbor -More on Clit Tease Guy later- he just laughed.
He laughed at my tantrum like I was an adorable child throwing a hissy fit in her tiara and tutu.
And he gave me a back rub and brought me champagne.
We watched a short show together and ate our popcorn.
All was right in the world.
Broken resolution and all.
Damn fine start to the year.
Cheers!
No comments:
Post a Comment