Well, Katie and I dressed in our prom dresses to see the opera, which was quite enjoyable for the two of us, even if we did get a lot of stares (but honestly, that added to the enjoyment of it all).
Jenna just left, about an hour ago. For the most part, we had a good time. Last night, I went with her and Milo and Heather and Kara and Chad to play pool (which I don’t really know how to do, so I didn’t play). I played air hockey with Jenna a few times….
You know, I really don’t feel very comfortable with this group of people. Apart from obviously Milo, and then Jenna, whom I still consider a friend, but whom I no longer trust…I never hang out with any of these people anymore. Kara, Heather…and Chad, Kara’s 24-year-old boyfriend who is always drunk and hitting on me.
When we first arrived there, and we were all waiting for Chad, we’re sitting on these little couches…and then Chad comes in. Everyone greets him, and then he looks at Milo and says, “So where’s your Mia?”
Mia? WTF? Who is Mia!?
I could only assume he meant Mo. Or Maureen, whatever you want to call her. And the fact that he was drunk just confused him, or something.
But Milo showed no confusion at all. He knew exactly what Chad was talking about. He said, “She’s not here.”
Chad said, “You left your Mia at home?” There’s that phrase again—your Mia. Stab.
Milo said, “She said it was too late for her.” (It was, by then, around 10:30.)
Chad said, “Aw…was it past her bedtime? Is she not allowed out this late?”
Then Milo just sort of laughed, and Chad laughed.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe “Mia” is just some sort of inside joke between the two of them, which would explain the discrepancy in her name. Maybe there is no Mia.
But then again, wasn’t it just a matter of time before Mo became his Mo, anyway?
So once again, I’m the odd one out. I am the third one. Always the third one. I’m like Eponine. I am the one who doesn’t matter. And I’m selfish.
Because really, the only reason I am in the equation at all is for me. It doesn’t matter to him that I’m in love with him, or that I am alone…I certainly don’t matter to her—she doesn’t even know me. I matter only to myself; they have feelings for each other. If it were not for me and my feelings, then there would be no problem.
I’ve always thought I was incredibly selfish. In everything. I have a lot of old journal entries where I was debating telling him about my feelings for him, even when he was with The Ex. She didn’t matter to me then. It’s like I didn’t care about anybody but myself.
No. …No! I care about him. That’s the point. That’s the issue! I didn’t care about her because she was a fucking cheater who didn’t truly care about him to begin with. That was what always bothered me about her. And that was why I wanted so badly then to tell him how I felt—because, unlike her, I truly did care about him. I don’t just care about myself. How could I think that? How could I ever have thought that!?
Wow…I just had an epiphany.
Right…but it doesn’t change the fact that I am, once more, the fifth wheel.