PREFACE: To those "anonymous" readers sick and tired of hearing about my obsession with "Karen," I will talk more about her later in this post. If you're not interested, don't read. There's millions more interesting blogs online. You don't have to trash mine if it's really that bad.
I participated in a walk-a-thon for sickle cell anemia on Saturday, June 11. Sickle cell anemia is what killed my mother, and I have sickle cell trait, meaning if I created a child with someone else with the trait, that child would be at risk for the disease. It's a very painful disease; my mother was in a tremendous amount of pain all her life. I wonder how she ever went through childbirth, especially my big ass. But anyhow, I never participated in the fundraiser because I didn't want to be so close to something associated with the death of my mom. But last year, when Karen did what she did to me, I decided to go just to hang out with my family, since it became obvious family was the only group of people I could trust, and also to introduce them to "Sarah," who was at the time my girlfriend. I didn't participate, but this year I signed up for the walk, and I can't see a good reason why I wouldn't do at least that much every year from this point on. (There are jog and bike portions as well, but I'm not in shape to jog, and I can't ride a bike.) Now, I didn't come close to walking to the end of the path--this thing started at 35th on the lake and extended down the lakeshore to 69th, and in the heat of the noon sun, I managed to get to 47th and back--but at least I did something. I've realized over the last few years, even before I met that whore Karen, that a lot of my fears about dating and marriage and relationships stem from the simple fact that I'm scared to death to give my love to a woman only to watch her abandon me, which is how I felt when my mom died in 1986, when I was ten years old. And now, walking in this fundraiser, in a way I acknowledged her death, which is something I've always been loathe to do, and I felt like maybe I was on my way to properly grieving her loss and moving on, which is something I feel like I've never done. I "talked" with my mom throughout the walk, and she encouraged me to keep going, even though on the walk back I had to stop several times just because the benches looked SO enticing. But I kept going, and despite how tired I felt throughout the walk, one of the first thoughts I had once I made it back was that I expect to go farther next year now that I've had a little taste of what I have to do. I'll discuss everything to do with my mother in my next post. Maybe it will help explain why mentally I am in the place that I am.
I think my uncle, my mom's brother, was extremely pleased to see me participate, since he organizes part of the fundraiser and never saw me be a part of it in the years past. On the drive back afterwards, he said something that almost made me choke up. He told me that I remind him of my mom in that we were both very sensitive to how others perceived us, me because of my weight and her because of her delicate condition. We both were self-conscious about relationships. I found that hard to believe because my mom was such a beautiful and intelligent woman. My uncle told me that she settled for my dad, an overweight, sloppy man by anyone's standards, because she was afraid that she would be alone, just as I have settled for evey woman I've ever dated because I am afraid of being alone. But, he said, he hoped I would be patient and do what my mom didn't have a chance to do--find a person with as big a heart as me, because, just like my mom, I have a very big heart and I deserve someone who matches it. I think that's one of the things that's keeping me from jumping off a bridge right now. Somewhere deep down in my heart, I still hold out hope that someone will come into my life that realizes that I am a good man, while being a good woman in her own right, a good woman that's not living an alternative life and not lying to me or herself. My mom went through hell to give me life. I'm hoping to do what she wanted, which is to be in a partnership with someone who values me and herself. It ain't looking good right now, but I guess I'm still holding out some hope.
My father and I, speaking of my sloppy dad, had banana splits on Father's Day this past Sunday. Because he beat me as a kid, and because he can be rather embarrassing sometimes, I've always hated every second I've spent with him. But we had a long chat about my situation with Karen, and he gave me some advice beyond the "Women are crazy" spiel he usually gives. I told him that I'm having a very hard time with the fact that I don't have the balls to go up to Wisconsin with a bottle of bleach and a funnel because it means that it's okay for Karen to do what she did to me because she got away with it without any retribution from me. I feel that it means that anyone can fuck me up the ass and it's all good because I'm going to let them. He pointed out that it doesn't mean anyone can do that to me, just one person, and no matter how unfair it is, it's better to let her get away with it because the alternative is showering with a bunch of horny men in the federal prison before they stick a needle in my vein. My dad has a way with words. I told him that I had already considered all the ramifications of going up there and killing Karen, and that I'm close to accepting them if it means that at least she didn't get away with screwing me. He said that I can't do that, because then she'd really be screwing me. I was trying to install my printer back on my computer all day Sunday, and because I had two papers due Monday morning, I had to get it done, but the installation disk simply wouldn't cooperate. Yet I stepped out of the apartment to spend a couple of hours with my dad, and if I hadn't, then he wouldn't have called his brother in Florida, his brother the computer whiz, and his brother the computer whiz wouldn't have told me, the computer boob, that I can go to the website of my printer's maker and download the drivers onto my computer, therefore installing the printer without having to beg and plead with the installation disk, and I wouldn't have done those two papers by pulling an all-nighter and finishing my work around 5:30A Monday. So, and I never thought I'd be saying this, thanks dad. My father, actually good for something. Go figure.
And now for the latest Karen news: I e-mailed her new phony Tawanda account Monday morning "congratulating" her on the good news about her new house and car that she wrote on that account. She replied to me that evening. She continued to insist that I misunderstand everything, that her appearing on a bisexual BBW website half-naked next to her best friend wasn't what it looked like, she was just helping her friend promote the website, but she's not into that at all. Oh, okay. She told me that she still thinks about me, but that we were "doomed from the beginning," whatever the fuck that means, and that my angry letter to her the morning after I found out about her destroyed any future between us, but that "I wish you well." I know exactly what she's doing. She's trying to make me pause and think that she really is a misunderstood woman who just wants to help promote her friend's wild lifestyle but isn't really involved with it. Every second that I pause and wonder if she's really not the bitch that deceived me and ruined my life is another second that she has bought herself to keep deceiving and living the life she wants to live, breaking hearts and destroying anyone stupid enough to love her along the way. That's why I feel like a decision has to come from me very soon, a decision on which direction I am going to choose--to let her go and let her get away with what she did, attempting to move past her and ignoring the fact that she's going to keep on truckin' as if what I felt and what my family felt when we found out about her doesn't mean shit, or to go up there and defend myself and my family against this human waste and let her and every other woman know that you can go around fucking with other guys and getting off scott-free, but I cannot allow you to do that to me and get away with it. I have to choose which way to go now. I can't keep going the way I'm going, saying I'm going to get past her but knowing that all I think about when I am awake is wondering what guys or girls she's persuading to think that she's a sweet, innocent girl and if she feels any remorse for crushing another person's heart, and all I think about when I'm trying to sleep is how good it would feel to hear her last breath before I break her neck or choke her out. It's time for me to decide, for good, for once and for all, finally, will I be a man or a mouse?