Just Call Me Bitter Betty

I don't mean to be. Hell, I don't even want to be. But I am, in fact, feeling quite bitter right now.



It's irrational. I know it's irrational. And I feel like a bitch. But I still feel the way I feel.



And at this point, I'm sure I've lost all of you.



Well, some of you may know already. And at the risk of being called out, I'm still going to post this because I'm that freaked out by my feelings.



BoyWonder has this friend who bugs the crap out of me. It's nothing personal, I just think he's weasely and snakelike on the inside. He's always perfectly pleasant to have a conversation with and he's polite to me in person, so I kind of let it slide and be nice out of respect for BoyWonder.



This friend was in a relationship with a friend of mine for a long time. During the course of said relationship, the friend told BoyWonder things that made me immediately want to out him to his SO of the time. But again, out of respect for BoyWonder and the fact that the information I had was supposed to be between the boys, I choked on it for years.



Several years later, this guy is best man at my wedding. Not my pick, but it also wasn't really my call. He brings the new girlfriend to the wedding, despite my request that she not attend out of respect for my friend. NewGirlfriend annoys me. She's young and bubbly and naive and I'm sure she's nice but she is the kind of girl I avoid like the plague. I tried to give them a shot at being a couple we could hang out with. And then...



He got her pregnant like a week after my wedding. Three weeks into their relationship.



So, since September, I've had to hear/read nearly daily updates. I try to be nice. I'm trying really hard to be nice still.



Baby is due any second now. They want us to go to the hospital to visit when the baby comes. I don't want to. Not even a little bit. I know it's a baby, and I know the baby didn't do anything to me. I LOVE babies. But I still don't want to go.

I hate the way I feel. But I also hate that BoyWonder and I have busted our asses to do everything in the most responsible way possible, and we are the ones who get to struggle. We've been together almost six years. We've owned our home for two. We were married in August. We have survived the fights, crazy work schedules, my bouts of depression (and his), and we're finally at a point in our lives that things are stable. I hate that we have struggled through the treacherous terrain to get where we are and these bubbleheads can have everything I want by complete accident. Like it was a fucking walk in the park.

So no, I don't want to go to the hospital. I don't want to see him. And I feel horrible about it. I really do. Because deep down, I want them to make it. I hope that they survive being young and not having been together for very long and the lack of maturity that abounds. I hope the baby is happy and healthy. But I don't want to be around it.

I don't want to see that while I'm charting and drinking my green tea in the morning and taking three different supplements and prenatals that make me nauseous, this couple that in all likelihood will fail can have what I want without even trying. I don't want to look at them and wonder if--between BoyWonder's varicocele and constant exposure to harmful chemicals and my past choices--it's even biologically possible for us. I just don't want to.

So that's where I'm at. I'm bitter. It's nobody's fault but my own. I should have spoken up years ago. If I'd outed him when I had the chance, he wouldn't be around us now. But again, that's not my call to make.

So instead, I'm going to drink beer and work in the yard.

I understand why all the TTC girls drink now. I do.

**Note: Blogger ate over half my original post. So if the last half seems wonky, it's because I had to try to remember what I said the first time... And it's not nearly as good the second time, because I felt better. ugh.