Life is messy. Sometimes it’s messy because of external forces we have no control over, and sometimes it’s messy because we make it like that. My life is a mess because I make it like that. I constantly make bad decisions. Knowingly.
After some more preachy, overbearing, hypocritical words of advice, this time in regards to anal sex, W clarified his hypocrisy by saying:
I know how people/I should live my life. I just don’t like behaving.
And it dawned on me that neither do I. Secretly, of course. I’ve always been the one that people would call a dark horse or not expect certain behaviour from. When I got a tattoo at 16 no one saw it coming. When I got my tongue pierced at 17 it was an even bigger shock – this lasted all of ten days, by the way, as my mother inevitably found out and made me get rid of it. Did I really think that she wouldn’t find out? Of course not. These were obviously poor decisions on my part as I definitely knew they’d get me in trouble. To this day my friends still talk about social events from our 6th form years and when I say that I don’t remember, they respond with, ‘Oh, you were probably grounded‘. Sums me up as a teenager, doesn’t it?
I can always be trusted to make a mistake. The amount of times I’ve got with someone and said it was an accident just isn’t acceptable. Of course, this is pretty normal. Everyone makes drunken sexual mistakes. However, continuing to get with said accidents over and over again when I full well know it’s a terrible idea is where I excel. One of my best friends said that it’s okay for me to do such things because I’m a cold person who is capable of separating my feelings and not getting attached. This was probably pretty poor best friend advise on his part. Obviously, because I make bad decisions, I took it as a green light to carry on misbehaving.
Some people get far too stressed doing things that they shouldn’t. I find it far too easy. When I was a child my uncle literally thought I was a sociopath. I’m not, obviously. I’m nowhere near charming or confident enough to be. I think it was traits like inherent indifference, violent tendencies and the ease with which I’d lie that concerned him. Anyway, the point is that not only do I find it easy, I quite enjoy it. And I’m really unsure what that says about me as a person. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t do things that are going to hurt other people or misbehave in a way that will affect someone else’s life. I make bad decisions for myself. If someone else is involved I just won’t make a decision at all because I would hate to make a choice that would disappoint them. Considerate, aren’t I?
So, why, when I know what the sensible, right thing to do would be, do I consistently do the opposite? Despite what my teenage email address may say I don’t really think I’m a masochist. Maybe I am. Maybe I subconsciously like the drama that making a mess brings. Maybe I’m an idiot who’s incapable of learning from her mistakes. Or maybe I just don’t like behaving. Either way, I always get a good story out of it.