A friend wrote about baby steps. I cheer her on every step of the way. I wonder why no one can appreciate how far she has come in her baby steps.
Then I get impatient with C, and it takes me taking a step back and realize that he is on his own journey, and taking baby steps, while I am wanting him to run. Who the fuck am I to have such high expectations? Who the fuck am I to have any expectations at all? C had his life all nice and easy, then I come in, and in my high handed way expect everything to change. Like I am such a prize.
C is not like me, shocker I know. He's quite quiet. His old friends go into two categories. Old drinking buddies, or older friends from church growing up. Granted the latter category are very minimal. The old drinking buddies he has are always disappointed that he no longer drinks. That leaves his one friend, who was YES an old drinking buddy, but also taught C everything he knows about tattooing and has done all his work. So last night he was getting his leg piece finished up, and his buddy comments on the new apartment. The clincher is Nelson. C is not a cat person. Not really an animal person at all.
He asked about the "girl" he was seeing. C told him about me. Baby steps. Yes, he's "seeing someone" named Jamie. Oh, my, such honesty. Sure, I guess it is not C's fault that his friend assumed Jamie was a girl. But he sure as fuck did not correct him. So? What right do I really have to be pissed off? None. But it doesn't stop me from being pissed off. Before he just didn't tell people about me. That is better than lying about me.
Baby steps. I want to believe he had every intention of telling his friend about me, but then took the expedient escape hatch provided when the friend figured Jamie was of the female persuasion. Except for the fact that he had to know that was going to happen. Unless someone knows you're gay the assumption is straight. And unless the subject of who you are seeing ends with a name I have to assume that a few feminine pronouns enforced the assumed sex of Jamie.
In the future I must be careful what I wish for. I wished for him to at least tell people I existed. Well, I got that, just not the way I wanted it. The poor stupid bastard still hasn't figured out WHY I am mad. Fucktard. Well, he hasn't admitted to knowing why I am mad anyway. I refuse to believe he is really stupid enough not to have picked up on the why.