a wild card day for february

Well, it had to happen eventually. The ovation of the Wild Card Day. One of those days when you have to stop yourself from dripping tears over your fellow commuters. The kind of day when you feel raw but you are unsures as to the exact machinations of your scrapes. Or perhaps you do know but you don't want to give power over them by inserting them on the syllabus of Over Analysis 101.

Things like the guy i met on saturday and asked me out for wednesday, took my number then never followed up; attempting to resolve a situation at work to ensure that blame isn't placed on me although i can't get the parties to sit down; mediating on a pro bono basis a hr issue on my charity full of aggresively negative emotions; being able to name one of the emotions that i am feeling as loneliness; the bittersweet irony film caused by having a catch up chat over a glass of wine at my local with G, Boy From Work; not hearing from my best freind for ages and not knowing why; and the fight with the emotion of Wanting, like a constant battle with fear. I want to go eat pizza and chocolate fudge cake, but my Food Nazi diet self won't even let me. and will talk myself into feeling worse if i give in, while the another voice in my head says why the heck are you even caring about body fat, muscle tone, shape and aerobic fitness when experience has shown it doesn't make any difference in the ability to attract and maintain quality guys, ie am i doing something for me, or part for me and part for a reason that doesn't exist! Looking fit doesn't mean they call you.

And yes, i am having to live the new paradigm, and say, its too bad that Cool Guy didn't call after words otherwise, but so be it and the reasons have nothing to do with me but all him; i wouldn't call my feelings rejection, but disappointment and acute frustration. All of which i am praying to go away because they are a waste of my time; i can liberate myself for a moment, but then it comes back. Oh Well Period. not, oh well, but i am still frustrated. But it is and i want the last part to go away. It should not be there; i usually am not, but maybe you have to revisit here and there, but those moments become less frequent.

In my conversation with G (work guy), which i entered to test myself (can you be his friend without tension) and frankly give myself good marks, we spoke of career paths and decisions to be made and talked about opportunities and interests, which provoked a sense of frustration again, at what i have the potential to do and what i am doing right now. However, with work it is my fault: i choose to be where i am, hold off on looking, research into x or z rather than do x or z. Yet with dating, it is out of my control. The sea i have to work with, i don't create. i can't force someone to call me or get to know me. And i do break down at times and get upset for my friends and myself knowing that there are loads of singles out there, but we are not getting together, and i can't do anything about it. Of all my friends here in the UK, i am the one that throws myself out there the most. And have stories full of inadequacies on display - i should start a magazine of them. Perhaps a crappy guy fanzine.

So, perhaps i feel bombarded with frustration from several angles, and i am shamelessly throwing myself in the Self Pity Pit.
I think i will allow myself a large bar of dark chocolate to survive the pit. after the treadmill.