Aug 2

Spilling the Tea, Part 8 (Series Finale): The Person I Hate The Most

Spilling The Tea, Part 8 (Series Finale):

The Person I Hate the Most

Dear Reader,

I believe we’ve gotten the closest we've ever gotten, this year. I have admitted so many things to you, and I truly believe you probably understand me better than anyone else. I’ve tried my best to paint myself as complex, complicated, and above all else, I’ve tried to paint myself as human… However, despite all of my confessions and despite all of my reasons, there’s one that sits above all the rest. In the pettiest way possible, there is one person who really stands above the rest for me. There is one person who I’ve had the most run-ins with and is the person I actually hate the absolute most.

But first, we need to take a detour. I need to walk you through what a typical week of my life looks like.

My week starts on Saturday. I wake up to a tear-stained pillowcase, eat breakfast, and scroll dating apps for a few minutes. I swipe right on a few cute guys, see that all of my messages in my inbox have still been ignored, and then move on with my morning. I’ll then pack my backpack, drive over to Trident Booksellers in Boulder, and order tea. I’ll sit at a booth/table, pull out my Word document on my laptop, and I’ll get to writing.

“I’ll start a new series called ‘Spilling the Tea’. One of the most reoccurring compliments I receive on my blog is that I am always raw and vulnerable when I do decide to open up (specifically, on my Blog anniversary Posts). So, why not start a series where I can showcase that?”

After pondering for a few moments, I gathered an outline.

Eight stores from my past.

Eight truths.

Eight life lessons.

At the time, it felt pretty simple.

However, it wasn’t.

I was digging deep into my past because overall, I keep failing. I keep losing. I keep going through the same trauma and turmoil over and over again. So, with these eight stories where I can explore some of the most chaotic moments in my past few years, just maybe I can pinpoint where I went wrong.

After all, every story in this series took place within the same 16-month period. Crazy, right? I know.

Two to three hours later, I’ll look up from my laptop and look around. I’ll see a mixture of guys around. Some of them are really cute. I’ll secretly hope some of them are gay and think to myself, “I can’t really tell which way they swing… Maybe they’ll be on a dating app.”

So, I’ll pull out a gay dating app, check to see that one of the guys is actually gay, and send them a ‘hello’ message.

They’ll ignore the message, so I’ll look around the shop again.

I’ll then go to work on a new blog post, pack up my backpack, have a short convo with the shop owner before leaving for home.

Once home, I’ll go to the gym and work out. I’ll then eat dinner, drink tea while watching a movie (typically Ghibli), and tinker with the idea of going to a gay bar down in Denver. It’s around thirty minutes away from my apartment, which is usually the thing holding me the most back from just automatically saying yes. After bartering with myself for an hour, I’ll get off the couch, get dressed, and fully submit myself to the idea of going to Denver…

An hour later, I’ll walk into the gay nightclub. It's the same one where I keep seeing my ex from the second story in the series). And, this is the same place where I regularly watch drag.

I’ll walk around the club awkwardly, sit and wait to watch Drag by myself and say hi to whoever sits by me.

The Drag show will go on, and for those thirty minutes, I’ll lose myself in the performance. I’ll cheer on the performer, take a photo or two, and enjoy the time alone.

Once the Drag show is over, I’ll make my way over to the dance floor.

I’ll dance by myself, but, I don’t care. I have the music by my side, after all. As long as I can sing to a song that the DJ plays, I can normally find comfort in being in the middle of a dance floor and doing my own thing

After dancing by myself for a bit, I’ll make eye contact with a guy who spots me from across the dance floor.

He’ll come up, ask me where I’m from, and I’ll say, “Just outside of Boulder.”

“Oh, that’s so far from Denver,” he’ll say.

“It’s only thirty minutes away,” I’ll reply back.

He’ll then look around awkwardly before getting lost in the crowd.

Now, I’ll be dancing by myself again. But, I was there for drag originally, and stayed for the music, so it doesn’t really matter.

I’ll then look around the club and notice all of the other gay guys. I’ll then notice that they are with friends, with dates, or even their boyfriends. Then, I’ll check my phone and see that it’s almost 1:00 am. Given I do live a small trek away (but not a large one), I’ll then leave and drive home.

On Sunday, I’ll wake up at 8:00 am. Despite that, I went to sleep at 3:00 am, and my body clock is still programmed from work. I’ll wake up feeling drunk, despite that I didn’t drink. I’ll go to the gym again while feeling weak, get groceries, and then go to bed early for work…

On Monday, I’ll wake up and go to work. I’ll chat with my coworkers and hear about how they spent their weekend. It usually involves their partners, their husbands, or their families. I’m usually happy for them. However, they’re living a life that I’m not familiar with. They all graduated college, married their husbands or wives right after school, and have a home with their said partner. They’ll talk about how they went out with their partners, went shopping with their partners, traveled with their partners, or some variation of spending time with their family.

Then, I’ll leave work, go to the gym, and then go home by myself….

Tuesday through Thursday, I’ll go to work, go to the gym, and go home to eat by myself. I’ll then set my alarm, go to bed by myself, and wake and go to work. However, after three days, I’ll change my routine when Friday rolls around.

On Friday evening, I’ll skip the gym and go straight home. After working all week, I’m usually tired. However, I noticed something about my week — it was full of people who have other people.

While curious, I log into another gay dating app. I’ll see that there are a few messages from a few other guys who are local. After chatting for an hour or two, we’ll determine that we’re usually into different things: On this app, they are looking for sex. For me, I want to date. As for myself, once I mention that I’m not looking for sex, but rather, looking to date, they’ll either ghost me or block my profile.

After sensing that there’s a strong avoidant attachment style on the app, I’ll log off.

Later that night, curiosity will get the best of me. I’ll log back in and see a message from a gay guy whose actually near me in proximity. I’ll reply, and eventually, we’ll be having a conversation.

Our conversation will lead to exploring each other’s wants and will lead to me finding out that he’s only on for sex.

And, he wants to meet up.

After giving it thought, I’ll think back to how I’ll spend all week alone. I haven’t been on a date for months, so why not meet up with another guy?

So, I’ll agree, and we’ll meet up.

The guy will come over, and after already agreeing on what we’d do, he’ll follow me to my room.

He’ll kiss me passionately like we already had some preexisting hot summer romance.

And, I’ll do the same back.

He’ll hold me, and I’ll hold him. Eventually, we’ll lie there and cuddle for a bit.

I’ll then think to myself, “Oh, this is what it feels like to be passionate and cuddle with a partner. This is what all of my friends and co-workers get to experience. Intimacy is normal for them, and in some form or fashion, I’m normal too.”

But, he does leave. When he does, I’ll suddenly feel empty. I’ll shower, lie in bed by myself, and go to sleep.

The next morning, I’ll wake up and realize that I’m myself again. I’ll roll over, and start to get teary-eyed. My pillow case will now be stained with tears. I’ll breathe heavily, let out a few more tears, and then end my pity party by getting dressed, packing my laptop, and going back to Trident to write another blog post.

After I write my new post, I’ll then look around and see if anyone from the shop is also on the gay dating app. I’ll say hello to someone who is near, but they’ll never reply, and I’ll go back to getting lost in my writing.

I’ll go back to Denver to the club, meet a few great gay guys before they get the ‘ick’ over me living 30 minutes away, then drive home.

Go to bed at 3:00 am.

Wake up feeling hung-over, despite not drinking.

I’ll go to work. I’ll hear about my coworker’s families, and disappear into the week again.

Friday night will roll around, and I’ll be so burned out on being alone that I’ll go to a gay dating app and chat with guys for a bit. After failing at flirting, I’ll chat with someone who’ll want to hook up. However, I still feel empty from the last time I did it, so I counter-offer the proposal of a hook-up with an offer to go on a date.

He’ll read the message and close the chat without replying.

I’ll never hear from him again.

I’ll wake up the next morning and cry again, from feeling empty. I’ll compose myself, pack my backpack for Trident, and go work on another blog post.

I’ll go to Denver, dance by myself, and give someone the ‘ick’ because I live thirty miles away.

I’ll wake up the next day hung over. Go to bed early, then wake up and hear about my coworker's lives.

However, on this particular Monday, a co-worker whose on maternity leave came in with her brand-new baby. Everyone in the office will come up to the front, take turns holding the baby, and say, “Hey Cody, you haven’t held the baby yet. Want to hold the baby?”

I’ll force a smile on my face while gritting my teeth and replying, “Oh sure, I’m so happy for you!”

I'll keep the forced smile on my face while holding this baby.

“You see Cody, it won't bite! My husband and I are so happy that we get to share this joy with everyone,” the coworker said.

“Absolutely! I’m so happy for you!” I reply back while churning the words through my teeth.

A coworker then points out, “Oh Look at Cody, he’s tearing up! You see, I knew this would be good for him!”

I then handed off the baby, excused myself to go to the bathroom, and dry-heave for about ten minutes before returning to work.

I’ll disappear all week, chat with a guy on Friday just to be ghosted after turning down sex, wake up and cry, then go back to Trident.

Rinse and repeat.

Flirt with a guy on Friday night. Cry Saturday morning. Change my pillowcase again. Watch Drag Saturday night. Give someone the ‘ick’ by living too far from the gay-neighborhood, and go to bed at 3:00 am. Then, disappear into the work week again.

Friday rolls around again, I’ll be ghosted by the guy I’ve been talking to all week.

Write on Saturday.

Rinse and repeat.

The next Friday, I’ll show up at a restaurant for a date and wait for over an hour before realizing I was being stood up. Cry on Saturday morning.

Then, at some point, I told myself I gotta break the cycle and stop talking to guys on apps and try talking to more in person, especially friends.

Saturday night rolls around, I’ll go to the club, and instead of looking for potential partners to date. I also started going to drag-bingo on Sundays, too. I’ll go to local festivals, immerse myself in my local community, and partake in a more sober environment. Maybe then, I’ll break the cycle and find more wholesome people to fill my life with.

However, after several months of meeting people in various spaces, I have yet to hang out with a new friend.

I now have about forty un-saved phone numbers in my phone from people who I had met to make friendships with, and from people who never text me back.

Then, I’ll decide to try something different — I’ll meet up with acquaintances I know from the area instead. I already know them, so why haven’t I done this before?

I then reached out to a friend who asked to meet me for tea. She then stood me up — multiple times. And one of those times, she hurt me so bad, that I wrote about it to launch this series.

However, I ran into a massive problem: When I posted the first editorial in the series, I had two friends call on joint-call me to chew me out.

They called me and said that I was now being hateful.

I told them, “I’m not writing this series to ‘do anyone in’. I’m writing this series because I keep getting kicked when I’m already down. Something went wrong, and the loneliness is killing me. I’ve been through so many outlandish situations in the past 16 months, that I need to start looking inward and find the answer to the one question I keep asking myself: Where did it all go wrong?”

They replied and said, “I get that, but what you’re doing is more hateful. You’re airing out people in a way that’s slamming them. Like, I understand some of these people treated you horribly, but you writing about them is worse than what they did. This isn’t about you anymore.”

I got hot, my face turned red, and I shouted back at them while spitting through my teeth, “Who cares about the other person, because 'news flash', what if I really did get hurt?

Does my hurt not matter?

What do you mean by saying 'this isn’t about me'?

Because, what if it is!?!

These people move on with their lives, and meanwhile, I’m still here cleaning up the mess!

I’m the one who has to live my life; this is about me!!"

After shouting back at them, we hung up the phone, they blocked me, and another friendship ended…

From that moment on, I declared to myself that one is going to tell me what I can or cant do.

No one will be able to take my voice away ever again.

However, although I've been looking inward and have been healing by writing this series, I'm still left with one issue: I’m still alone.

I’ve been going through therapy, and I’ve been working on myself. I’ve been making myself a better person, so why am I still alone!?

I’ve been searching for the answer to this question for the past year, and instead of finding answers,

I developed a strong hatred.

I developed a resentment, and I started developing hard feelings for the only person who was in control of my life…

Me.

By writing this series, what did I learn?

I learned that...

I was a pushover, so I could eventually stand my own ground

I was a dame in distress, so I could become my own hero.

I was submissive, so I could become confident.

I was crazy, so I could find my own sanity.

I lost my voice, so now, I can confidentially say that I regained it..

Since I believe all of that to be true, then maybe by hating my self, I can hopefully reach a point where I'll be able to love myself again....

Although we’ve had this connection for the past nine weeks, I think it’s time that I take a break. After all, how many times can you be introspective, before you start needing a break from the walls within your own mind?

Well, I’m at that point now.

Although I have so much more tea I can spill to you, I think I will take a break for now and give myself some time to breathe. Don’t worry, dear reader. This isn’t a goodbye, but rather an ‘until next time’.

How about we both venture out and live our own lives, and come back and meet here?

If I can manage to wake up every morning and power on, I know you can, too.

I'll be cheering you on.

Until next time,

~Cody Wade

Aka The Oolong Drunk

“Blissfully Tea Drunk”

Spilling MORE Tea, a sequel to the popular editorial blog series

Spilling The Tea is coming soon

Click the links below to catch up on previous segments of 'Spilling The Tea',