It’s the Regret That’ll Get You

I’m sad.

I should be packing for Missouri right now. Gun Games are this week and I should be there, but I’m not. Why not? Thanks for asking.

See, I made a complete ass of myself last year- I think I referenced that in a past post. What I neglected to mention is how, and why. I think I avoided talking about the details because it was THAT BAD. It still stings. Enough to make me not want to go this year.

If I dial it back, I know now that there were multiple circumstances that ultimately led to my demise. Some of it had to do with the untimely news of my health issues, sure. And yes, Marlboro Man was a factor. But there was a third issue that I didn’t really explore until DOC shed light on it.

I mentioned my Jasmine costume, right? The one I was so proud to wear after losing so much weight? Yeah, well here’s the skinny on that (pun intended)…The reason I wore that costume was not only because I had always wanted to dress up as Jasmine and now had the confidence to do so, but because this was a place it felt SAFE to do so. Where else but in the company of 100 women could I wear something like that and not be in fear of some sort of physical/sexual aggression? Blondie told me that the men who would be there are safe. They are good guys. They want nothing to do with the women. This was the perfect opportunity! If anything, I might get some bitchy looks from the women, but who cares about that? And the day started so perfectly. As soon as MM saw me, he grinned so big and said, “You look great!” Nothing lewd or suggestive- just a genuine compliment. Almost like he couldn’t help it. But now I wonder if he wasn’t making fun of me. At the time though, I felt like a princess.

What I could not have seen coming were the two guys, ranch hands I think, who drove by and shattered that illusion in about 30 seconds. That’s all it took- that leer and some comment in THAT tone of voice. All of a sudden I was triggered and that’s when it started- I went into defensive mode. That kitchen witch from my restaurant days who felt the need to get lewd and crude with the male chefs in order to hold my own and create a boundary around myself in order to feel safe. To present myself as ‘one of the guys’. To remove any bit of femininity or chance to be seen as delicate or vulnerable. Everything was ruined from that point on.

And I mean EVERYTHING.

DOC says that I started to cling to Marlboro Man and The Bear because that’s where I felt safe. I must have been like an annoying gnat they wanted to swat away that kept coming back, but it’s like I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even understand it myself, honestly. Every night I went back to my hotel and cried, mainly from exhaustion, sometimes from the pain in my hands, sometimes from frustration. All I know is that I was miserable. Blondie tried to help as much as she could, but she was busy and her area of the grounds were off limits. I respected that.

At one point, I remember trying to talk to MM, but I don’t remember much of what I said. I think I was trying to convey something to him about That Night, but I recall not being able to really verbalize what I meant. I remember telling him that he was a beautiful man and that he disagreed, but what I really wanted to say was ‘thank you’. Thing is, if he said, ‘For what?’, I wouldn’t have had an answer. How do you say, ‘Thank you for not sexually assaulting me’? It’s ridiculous. Besides, that was neither the time, nor the place.

The women in my squad wanted me to tell the RO’s that they were amazing and that they truly had made an impact on them. More than just having helped them learn the skills, etc. I made an ass out of myself trying to execute that maneuver as well. I just couldn’t get anything right.

Fast forward to the next morning- I had told the head of the ranch that I’d help her clean the kitchen so I was there scrubbing the stove and The Bird came in to talk to me. This was the ‘wrist slapping’ I referred to. It was more of a bitch slapping. She let me have it, albeit in a very professional way. My behavior was inappropriate and some of the ROs mentioned that I really went out of bounds. Then she brought up that instructor at Conference who apparently told her that I crossed a line with him (I owned up that I probably did and wouldn’t be surprised if he thought I had). It didn’t bear explaining about the ranch hands or any of that- there was no excuse for my behavior. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The last thing she said was that it was forgotten and we would erase it and move forward. I’m not sure I believed her then, and I don’t believe it now.

Once it was over and it sank in I really felt terrible, but now it was about Blondie. I felt like I had let her down and embarrassed her. I hated the thought of her being ashamed of me as a friend. For some odd reason I asked The Bird not to tell MM about any of it but I don’t know why. I’m sure she did, though. And she probably wondered why it would be of any concern to him. If he had not already told her about That Night, he would have to now.

The final nail in my Coffin of Shame was when I was leaving. I stopped at the spot where The Bird, Marlboro Man, and his cousin were tearing down and I wanted to speak with him privately, but it was awkward. I don’t remember what I wanted to say, but I ended up mentioning that it was my birthday and something about missing THAT GUY. It was just stupid and once again, I humiliated myself.

So, Wise Reader, that is one reason why I decided to abstain from attending Gun Games. The other reason is of course, Marlboro Man. After Conference in April, I was 100% sure he wanted nothing to do with me. It started out ok. I was worried how he would be given my performance at Gun Games, but the first time I saw him, he rolled up in his UTV with, “Dang, you look lovely,” and a giant hug, so I figured we were ok. That was the last nice thing he said to me that whole week. The rest of the time he was downright ice cold to me, if he acknowledged me at all.

I had scheduled all my no-shoot classes for the afternoon so I’d be out of the hot weather, but one of them ended up high in the mountains. I overheated and came down to the big hall halfway through to get some ice and ended up going back to my hotel early. He knew about it the whole situation, he had come into the hall to check on things (he actually tried get me a cold towel), but when he saw me the next day he didn’t even ask how I was. When I left for home at the end, he barely said goodbye. Clearly, we were NOT ok. So maybe going to Gun Games was not a good idea.

Look, I’m not arrogant enough to think that I occupy a minute of this dudes bandwidth, but if I’m a major irritant I might as well bow out. And The Bird isn’t exactly a huge fan of mine, either. Since I’m not in the habit of going places I’m not welcome, it didn’t seem like a good idea to waste the time and money. If I could have hung out with my other friends and Blondie, or if there were other women going whose company I enjoyed, I might have gone, but none of that was the case.

Right now I’m debating whether to pop in just to hug Blondie on her birthday. I’d literally fly in Friday, show up around 2pm when everyone is on the range, hug her for 10 minutes and leave. Thing is, if Marlboro Man and The Bird catch me, I don’t know if it’ll make Blondie look bad. The Bird may just kick me out altogether, and it’s within her right to do so. She’d probably wonder if I’m there hoping to get some attention from some ROs or MM so I need to be stealthy about it. On the other hand, Blondie had some transmission issues on her way down, so I may just take a one-way flight on Monday and drive back with her just in case something happens. I could still fly in Saturday, hug her and just chill in my hotel Sunday and Monday, maybe drive to St. Louis for the day. This bears consideration.

The bottom line is that I have some decisions to make. Do I stay with BWB, or do I just chalk it up to a lesson learned and a ‘well, it was great while it lasted’ type of thing and just walk away? I’ve reconciled that if I leave, I won’t see MM again and while that stings a bit, it’s for the best. He occupies way more headspace than he should. I worry about him- I saw him at a match a week ago and he looked awful. Stressed and pissed off and tense. But that’s not my business. Plus, if stay any events I attend would be stressful and I don’t need that.

All signs point to it being time to move on.

The question is, where?