Gullible

So here I am, sitting in the theater’s restaurant as my son and “his birthday party” are watching the latest Spider-Man movie. Now, one might ask, why aren’t I in there watching the movie with my son? And that’s a very good question. My answer: I’m gullible.

I’m not gullible in the sense that I believe anti-vaxers, flat-earthers or the religious, but I am gullible in that I let some walk over me, cheat me out of my things, and I don’t stand up for myself.

I had enough tickets and snacks for everyone, then my ex-to-be had some friends show up at the last minute to the hour-long party and take my last tickets. So they are in the auditorium watching the movie, and I’m in the restaurant tapping away on my phone. Once again, I’ve let her walk over me and take my things. I’m a fool.

Without a doubt, others have a different view. However, from this view there’s no valid reason for me to stand for this, but I do. I allow it, accept it, even expect it. No one respects having things given to them. Everyone takes what they can and gaslights you with a story afterwards about how you didn’t have to give them things, they really didn’t want to take your things. In other words, girls don’t like nice guys; they just want what they can get from them.

Okay, yes, that could be considered sexist, even incel of me. I have to acknowledge that it is very possible that not everyone is like that; I’ve just never had the privilege to be in a relationship with such a person. Granted, I’ve only had two relationships in my whole life, while many have had more than that before they graduate middle school. So my relationship experience is nothing compared to others, but consider that from my viewpoint I’m at 100 percent of being walked over and betrayed.

That perspective indicates the problem is me. No one is good for me because I’m good for no one, not even myself. And it is that perspective that drives the super self-critical personality that paves the way for me to allow some to walk over me, for me to not feel worthy enough to stand up for myself. So I sit. I sit alone in a restaurant with stale popcorn and flat soda while my son, his friends and his mom’s friends watch a movie on my dime.
Maybe it is important enough to fight back, but maybe, in the big scheme of things, it’s not important at all. I don’t know anymore.

I just expect too much and deserve nothing. I wish I could just accept it and stop brooding over it.