This is locked to a very small filter. I trust that the people who can read this will understand that no relationship is perfect and this is stuff going on for me and not any kind of indication that I should break up with Noah. This is a lot of vanity and arrogance and pretention wrapped up in a horrid little package.

Yesterday was the kinky flea. It happens 3 or 4 times a year. I’ve been going for a long time and I have some odd/mixed feelings about it. It is a primarily social event and one of the biggest that happens during the year in this area. I have long used it as a bolster for my fragile ego. When I go I specifically try to dress up and I get my ego strokes through the comments of people who are highly discriminating about who they are willing to call “pretty.” Highly discriminating in this case meaning “total assholes who are snobs about female beauty.” As much as I love and adore my friends, most of them are not really snotty about good looks. I don’t say that to be mean in any way. I desperately want that kind of validation for all sorts of fucked up emotional reasons. Anyway…

Noah and I got up and decided to go to the flea after having lunch at a fabulous Indian restaurant. It had been an uncomfortable night and uncomfortable morning as we talked about some hard stuff. We defaulted to waiting to eat at all until lunch. This was our first mistake of the day. See, when I don’t eat I become rather psycho. And I stop thinking clearly and I go through more and more rounds of self-loathing. The problem yesterday morning? Well… I couldn’t figure out what to wear. I needed wanted (let’s be realistic) something warm enough to keep me from freezing, something that I hadn’t worn a bazillion times, and something very figure flattering. The hardest piece there is “I haven’t worn it a bazillion times.” I haven’t done much fetish shopping in the past few years and my wardrobe is becoming increasingly limited if I don’t want to wear the same things over and over and over. After an hour of trying to figure out what to wear I was in tears and I slumped down against the door (my temper tantrums are rather pathetic and I try to do them behind closed doors so no one can see them) and cried thinking about how pathetic and stupid and ugly I am. I really hate that I do this to myself.

I finally reached the point of throwing up my hands and just put on a pair of jeans. Noah brilliantly suggested that we go eat before thinking about the rest of the day. Bless him. So we went and ate and I become something vaguely resembling human and rational. Only vaguely though. Then we got to start talking about why I was so upset and what the flea means to me. I told him that I would rather not go at all if I am not going to look good and impress people in the process. I realized how selfish I was being and I asked him what he wanted for the day. He said he wanted to go and be social and have fun. So I put on a boring outfit I have worn 3000 times and tried to suck it up. I maintained some level of cheerful, even if only on the surface, for most of the day. Then we saw Tom and his date and she was wearing the Slut of the Day collar (so named by a friend of Tom’s like 10 years ago because he puts it on everyone when they go out the first few times) and metal cuffs that we bought together. We searched long and hard for cuffs that I could wear for a significant length of time without having problems before we found them. It really *hurt* to see her wearing them. We left fairly quickly after that because my mood was shot and I couldn’t fake cheerful anymore.

We then went and did some Christmas shopping at Good Vibes and sat down and looked at a coffee table type book about breasts for a while. Talking about the models and the pictures lead me down some lovely unhappy thought trails. On the way home we started a conversation that really sucked ass through a straw.

I have always had this hang up. I want to be the prettiest, the smartest, the Most Awesome partner for my partners that they can possibly imagine. Well… I was all kinds of self destructive and brought this up with Noah. Well… I’m not. And it hurts like crazy. The way things ended up the attitude is that I am the best possible partner he has ever met and he wouldn’t trade up on any of the individual points because the overall balance is the best he has found and would not be willing to compromise on some of the ways that I am really good. It’s very weird because I feel very confident that Noah isn’t likely to leave me for someone prettier, but it hurts like crazy that he thinks there are prettier women. It hurts so much.

This is all so stupid because when I think about Noah it isn’t as if I have a mental checklist of “Perfect” that he matches point for point. He is just so wonderful in general that any area where he isn’t the best ever doesn’t matter in terms of the big picture. I can know that about our relationship in terms of me looking at him and not feel like it is diminishing him, but him thinking that about me makes me feel like a failure. This is so hard because at this point it isn’t like I am going to leave him over this. It isn’t even an option at all. But god I hurt. And I don’t know how to fix it.