Thursday, July 22, 2004

So I'm a DoorMat...or a Moving Target

I joined another site, used really for people to hook up with each other. I joined at first out of curiosity because someone I have been out with is on there (kind of how I got on Friendster-twice!!!). Also I am an admitted exhibitionist and part of me loves being "out there" on the net.
So I put my picture and my little profile and I watch strangers want to me my "friend" without so much as a word exchanged between us. Then the curse sets in and none other then the Prince of Bushwick finds me and wants to be my friend.
I haven't seen him since my birthday, when he took me out to dinner and I didn't fuck him because I wanted to meet up with the misfit instead. So I approve him as a friend and he writes what he thinks is a clever testimonial. And it goes a little something like this:

"Infinite patience, boundless acceptance of other people's shortcomings, accommodating, and sweet - yep, she's a doormat. But only I am allowed to take advantage of that. All you other leeches need to get in line behind me."

And I'm devastated because of how true it is.

So publicly on this same site I make a blog entry because yes damnit I wanted him to see it and I don't know if he reads this blog.
I wrote:

" So I'm a doormat...

..one of my lovely ex-lovers says. Because everytime he called me I would be there in a second. It didn't matter to me that he was fucking some heroin addict. It didn't matter how when I first was with him he would leave items belonging to all his other lovers for me to see. He would call me for a drink, for sex, or do help him do something for work and I did it. He wasn't always an asshole. He mostly was, but he wasn't always and I think I returned so many times hoping this time I'd meet the nice version of him. Maybe it was just the desperate hope of a lonely chica. He was a smart, professional, semi-Latino who knew how to fuck really well and kiss very well and could make me laugh and roll my eyes with the same joke. Whenever he would reveal a little bit of his soft underbelly, his vulnerability , the next time he had to be an extra dick to push me away.

Him calling me that made me sad, mostly because it's true. Why else would I be reading another ex's script and emails from his ex? Why else would I still be friends with my best friend even after she seduced a man she knew I had been lusting over for a while? Why else would I date a married man?
Why else would I converse with a man that tried to rape me?

I'm a doormat that's why. "

I was fucking crying and it floors me that this man still has that on me.

I little sound a flash comes on my computer screen. It's none other then the monarch of a certain enclave of Brooklyn saying that he responded to my entry.
So like Pavlov's sad little puppies I log on to see what he wrote....and it was:

"Madre de Dios, M! Don't let that maricon's wily ways fool you! You are far too wonderful to allow any of that negative shit to drag you down. Remember, if he can't appreciate the glorious beauty that you bring into this sick, sad world, then HE'S the one with the problem, not YOU! Why would you waste your time on some self-absorbed comemierda? And as for your fixation on his degeneracy, don't confuse "fascination with an accident scene" with "ardor"! Maybe subconsciously you're followings his exploit so you can watch his downfall. You should recognize that since he's chosen to relegate you to the background that he's already lost. I know its tough to give up great ass - believe me, I grapple with that problem daily - but you need to be ruthless with your time and drop him in the garbage like expired milk. You're too wonderful to be wrapped up in a degenerate like him."

Don't you love how he refers to himself in the third person like it's not fucking him???

He called me this morning to apologize and I played it cool. He said he meant it in jest and that he would be happy to write a nicer testimonial if I so wished. I told him I let it go and her should too. Done. He hung up with the usual line of talking to me sooner rather then later.

Then it hit me....well someone else told me. I am not a doormat but rather a moving target. I'm sending out some sort of signal to wounded men..men with issues...to come to me. All other men bore me.

Sigh......what happens if I keep getting hit like this????



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