D Is For Your Name & Cus You’re A Dickhead

I met D randomly one day.

I was sitting in a park after a gym session one day. I was listening to music, zoning out to my idle thoughts and smoking a cigarette*. He approached me and damn near scared the shit out of me. He apologized for startling me before he proceeded to tell me that he was on his way to play soccer with his friend but couldn’t help but notice me and he had to take the chance to say hi.

*Smoking is my secret vice. It’s been with me for so long and it’s not something I do socially which can be seen as ironic since it’s usually the opposite for people. It’s not something I tend to openly admit. I’m not so much ashamed of it, it’s just most people don’t smoke and I generally try to be polite about it. I love smoking though. One day I’ll stop and just miss it instead.

I can’t exactly remember what he looks like but I remember him being pretty cute. He was from England and spoke with a bit of an accent. It was charming. I was pretty turned on by his confidence. I was also just freshly out of communication with my ex*. That’s why I was sitting there doing what I was doing. I was idly moping. I was trying to live in a bit of a sad moment because that’s how I felt, ok? When he chatted me up, I was flattered but also hesitant. We chatted for a little while before he said he should probably meet up with his soccer friends. He asked me for my number. I gave it to him but on one condition.

*It was like the day after. It didn’t last long. We would still continue talking for about a month after this before it finally ended. 

I told him I wasn’t really interested in anything or anyone but myself at the moment and I wanted to keep it that way. I told him that while I am flattered I needed a bit of time. I asked him to respect my request of waiting at least 2-3 weeks before messaging me because of this. If he couldn’t, I’d simply ignore his message but I would really, really appreciate if he could do this for me. He said yes. I believed him. Off we went our separate ways.

He messaged me in less than the time I requested but not too quickly. I told him my sister was in town soon and that I would be unavailable to meet until after.  He was understanding about it. I gave him a date just so it didn’t seem like I was being flimsy. I didn’t hear from him for over a month after. By then though, I wasn’t interested anymore. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I was attracting all these guys who had flimsy interest and I was learning to not tolerate it. I decided that kind of effort didn’t make me feel good and instead of putting up with it, I’d just tell them no thanks and move along. When D finally hit me up, that’s how I felt about him so that’s what I said to him. He laughed at me and told me I was being too serious.

I brushed it off and didn’t think much of it. I felt like I was dealing with this kind of thing frequently enough that I had no polite thought to give anymore. How I felt mattered to me more and that was okay.

Flash forward to yesterday. I get a text from a number I didn’t recognize. When I asked who it was, a text back said, “I’m persistence”. When I didn’t care for the reply, a text said that it was D. I just said “Oh.” before I added, “I don’t think you’re persistent, just random”. He tells me I’ve been on his mind quite a bit recently and that he could use a morning cuddle buddy. I decline the offer. I told him that I was seeing someone who was sweet on me and could show it. It was half a lie. I didn’t care.

Then he told me he was getting married in a couple of days. I said that’s gross and good luck with that. I didn’t mean getting married was gross. It was gross of him to be doing this right before he puts a ring on someone else’s finger. I don’t understand how people are like this. Especially with people they don’t know. I can somewhat understand complicated stories but this is pretty simple. It’s also really dumb.

I used to be really bad at shutting this kind of stuff down. Now I acknowledge the level of dirtbagness and respond accordingly.


Stop Hammering In The Pieces

gray scale photo of jigsaw puzzle

Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

I love a good jigsaw puzzle. I’m always lowkey on the lookout for a good puzzle but it needs to be at least 2,000 pieces otherwise it’s not worth the effort. Puzzles are expensive these days though. This wasn’t the point of the post.

Life is like a puzzle though, non?

If you’re smart, you start with the border, then group that shit by sections and then start putting the pieces together. But every piece fits. They go somewhere. Your life is like a puzzle. Except you’re probably more disorganized. The edges don’t match but no one told you that so you are stressed the shit out finding pieces where the edges match. I hate those puzzles. Whenever I get a puzzle where the edges don’t match, I get really annoyed.

In order to finish the puzzle though, you have to work with the pieces you have. Eventually, you realize that the puzzle is a shit show and you’re not dumb. Then you chill out a bit more trying to put the pieces together. Occasionally you realize your box has some extra pieces that some jackass decided to throw in but you don’t realize it right away and you wonder why that piece doesn’t fit. WHY WON’T IT FIT? It might take you a while to realize it’s someone else’s missing piece but instead of it being like a soulmate vibe, it’s just the missing piece of someone’s soul who threw a piece of them away and didn’t bother to look for it. The piece could be a stranger or someone you’ll end up knowing and giving it back to, who knows?

Missing pieces might even be you. Maybe you exploded at your puzzle one day and in a fist of rage, a piece went flying out. Will you notice it? Maybe someone else did and brought it back to you. Maybe you’re oblivious to it. But perhaps maybe you will finish a section and notice the other pieces don’t fit so you go search for it. Maybe you thought this and did that only to come back to your puzzle and realize the piece was there all along and you either call yourself a fucking idiot, shrug or smack that palm on that forehead.

Whatever the fuck you do though, don’t hammer in a piece. Don’t force a piece that obviously doesn’t fit. Sometimes someone or something (let’s go into a bit of fantasy) will give you a piece of a puzzle and you’ll try to put it in your puzzle but it won’t fit. Sometimes you’ll realize it right away but sometimes it’ll take a while as you’re building your puzzle. If you don’t though, it’s going to stress you the fuck out and you don’t know why. Sometimes it’ll look like it fits somewhere but when you go to put it in, it doesn’t quite fit. If it drives you mental enough, you’ll start hammering it in. You’ll pound your fist at it making sure it fucking fits. If you never get to finish your puzzle, you’ll never come to see that it didn’t fit. If you’re lucky, you’ll finish your puzzle and realize that it doesn’t fit when you find your actual piece.

It’s even madder when you realize there are more puzzle pieces that you anticipated. You’ve been working on the puzzle so long that you forgot that you didn’t get the damn puzzle in a box. It came in a bag. Just some random bag or box that had no indication of how many numbers of pieces. Sometimes you get lucky and finish your puzzle. Sometimes it’s bittersweet because you finish your puzzle and it’s beautiful but there’s the end of your life. Sometimes you never finish it and when you die, you leave never seeing the end result and those pieces you left behind are either regret or sadness.

But don’t hammer in the fucking piece. Don’t force something that could damage your puzzle or make it fit where it doesn’t belong. Your puzzle is yours and just because someone gives you a piece of theirs doesn’t mean it’ll fit yours. Just like sometimes you’ll do the same to someone else. When some of us do that, we’ll stress out as to why this piece doesn’t fit without really wondering why. We can also stop trying to force that piece in for now and come back later and realize that it doesn’t fit. Or maybe if we don’t think, that’s when the hammering starts. If someone is awful, they’ll watch you hammer, yell and curse knowing full well it doesn’t fit but who are they to tell you that? They let you figure it out for yourself because they’re a twat.

Sometimes it just doesn’t fit because it just doesn’t fit. You can either try and find its rightful owner. Maybe once you’ve done enough to your own puzzle. Or you can leave it somewhere for someone else to pick up and find.

Sorry guys, I don’t know where I was going with this. I had puzzle on my mind, too much wine and I had to write something. I’m not sure how to end this or even continue it. There was a point where I was going to go where there was another puzzle but then it got too complicated.