The Trump Card

Girls are always worried about doing the right thing, saying the right thing, lest we be called (time for inside voices here) – dare I say it!? – crazy. It’s the venerable Voldemort-esque “that which should not be uttered” label that all girls are afraid of. To be called ‘crazy’ by an ex is the latter-day Scarlet Letter, only in this era it’s a fancy cursive “C” replete with sequins and Swarovski crystals. 

Due to this (irrational) fear, we often find ourselves withholding what we need to say the most in order to save face or at least save a part of our fragile ego. So things remain unsaid, closure remains unattained, and we remain (phew!) un-crazy. We may not be the right person, we may not be what he wants, but at LEAST we’re not crazy.

Of course, we are then miserable and questioning in our ‘deigned’ sanity, instead drowning our sorrows in Pizza Pino and red wine with the gals.

But hell, who cares about those five extra sympathy pounds when we’re sane!?

Then again, HE probably isn’t what we want either, especially since he’s (ignorant of our amazingness/passive-aggressive/abusive/fugly/the owner of an inordinate amount of backhair for someone that young/a complete and total fucker/insert other reason why he’s wrong for you here.) And even though we realize that, and can voice that to our friends, it also often remains unsaid to the bearer of said affliction(s) since the only thing worse than being crazy is being a bitch. God HELP you if you’re a crazy bitch.

What’s happening here is that nobody is communicating. HE isn’t being honest about what’s going on, YOU’RE hiding behind imaginary labels and nobody is saying what they really feel. He’s pulling the “duck and run”, you’re pulling the “well, if he’s ducking and running, I’ll just let him duck and run” and, in doing so, you’re getting further and further away from finding out just what the hell is going on. Because, even if you have a sixth toe and it freaks him out, you deserve an explanation, even if it’s the pathetic “I’m just not into it” or “It’s not you, it’s me”; You deserve an explanation even if you have to ask for one. And if he doesn’t give you one, well, then he’s just a total fucker.

So go forth and be ‘crazy’ my friends, because we ALL know that Fucker trumps Crazy ANY DAY and you’ll eventually end out on top. Just how you like it.

2 thoughts on “The Trump Card

  1. OMG… I totally know what you mean..
    Ergh! I am going through the same thing with some effer…
    But, I am afraid to call or confront him lest I be labeled a “C.B” (crazy bitch)

  2. Crazy is just a perception. For fucks sake, just be who you are. If he doesn’t appreciate you for that, he’s not worth the effort.
    Of course, the same goes the other way. No, I’m not crazy, I just play one on TV.

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