Let’s Be Morbid

I was pleased to see that there had finally been an arrest in a murder case out of New York that I have been following for the last 6 months.

Karina Vetrano

Karina Vetrano was a 30-year old woman who had gone out for a late afternoon jog on August 2, 2016 near her home in Queens, New York. When she hadn’t gotten back by a certain time, her family got worried and started looking for her. Hours later they found her body in a weedy park area where she regularly ran (usually with her father). She had been beaten, raped, and strangled.

This case unsettled me more than the average murder partly because she reminded me of my general milieu (30-ish, attractive, fit), but more so because I think random murders that come about from innocuous activities are the most disturbing.

She wasn’t buying drugs or prostituting herself or doing any other thing that’s inherently risky, she just wanted to go for a run outside by herself in her own neighborhood while it was daylight outside. It was around the time where people are starting to commute home from work in New York City of all places – I guess that just goes to show that you’re never really safe anywhere.

And as someone who does the exact same thing from time to time, it certainly opened my eyes up a bit to how vulnerable I make myself in certain situations.

Particularly, a scenario comes to mind from several years ago in one of my old neighborhoods where I used to run regularly along a sidewalk path which formed a perfect 1.5 mile loop. There was about a 5-minute walk from out of my apartment of the time to get to said loop.

One day I was nearing the end of my run and starting to slow down as I approached the turn to get back to my apartment. Walking in the opposite direction was a guy around my age who was pretty unremarkable. We may or may not have made eye contact as we passed and I thought nothing else of him.

I slowed to a walk right after I passed him and soon after turned off the loop onto the street that leads back to my complex. Music helps me greatly in my running endeavors, so I had my iPod blasting away in my ear still as I cooled down. 5 minutes later I had just unlocked the the main door to my building and prepared to spring up the first flight of steps to get to my apartment on the second floor when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned to see the guy I had passed on the tail end of my run not long before. He wanted to know if I had a boyfriend. I didn’t, but I wasn’t interested so I told him I did. He shied away and left after that and it was no harm, no foul.

However, a couple of things did occur to me after the fact that were unsettling:

  1. He had followed me home and I was completely unaware he was behind me during the whole 5 or so minutes it took for me to get there.
  2. He wasn’t just behind me, he was RIGHT behind me. I know this because the main door to my building was one of those that closed on its own and locked behind you after you were inside. As he was able to catch the door before it closed and locked,  he had to have been REALLY close behind me.

Luckily, this turned out to be an innocuous encounter, but if he had had nefarious intentions I would’ve been at a severe disadvantage. I do keep a firearm or two within reach in my house but I would’ve had to get to it first which would’ve been quite the challenge maybe.

Even still, there have been many more occasions that I have run outside with music in my ears, sometimes in the pre-dawn hours when it’s dark out and it feels like I’m the only one in the world awake at that hour. If I think of it, I put a pocketknife in my sports bra just in case, but I’m not sure how much that would help if someone were to roll up behind me really quickly and snatch me up into a van or to hit me over the head with something. I wouldn’t even hear them coming.

In any case, R.I.P. Karina. I just think that’s really sad.


Although Mr. Smooth never responded to Saturday morning’s apology texts (as expected), I sent him another one last night. I reminded him that he told me he’d cook me some curry chicken (this was in February), and as he never did so, I’ll expect it later this year for my birthday. I was just being silly. Stuff like that tends to happen when I’m extremely bored. True to form, he didn’t answer.

I told him today that I see he’s still being mean, but that’s okay because I’ll be nice to him regardless.

Same ol’ Mr. Smooth – the coldest bastard ever.

Clearly, I’m not completely over him. I recognize that in the fact that I had the sudden urge to text him after he left the bar Friday night. And from that I realize I was subconsciously waiting/hoping for him to speak to me first while we were in each others’ presence. And when he left and thus made it clear that he could see me (in all my hotness) and not feel compelled to talk to me, that struck a nerve.

It’s so easy to feel like you’re over someone when you can just erase his number from your phone and pretend he never existed. The first real moment of truth is the first time you lay eyes on that person after all has been said and done.

I will say that, in terms of active feelings, I really am over him. Active feelings concern the day-to-day, involuntary, self-initiated manifestations of being into someone: thinking about him all the time, yearning to talk to him/see him/spend time with him/fuck his brains out. The overall essence of wanting someone that’s always in the forefront of your consciousness.  This certainly is no longer the case with Mr. Smooth.

But obviously I still have some dormant feelings for him. Dormant feelings are the residual traces of emotion for a person that lie hiding deep down inside you and make you think you’re in the clear because you can’t always feel them. But come one chance encounter with that person, or even one strong reminder, there comes that faint pang of memory and desire.

Dormant feelings are further along in the moving on process than active feelings, but they’re still a bitch if you’re dealing with a person that you’re probably going to see or hear of on occasion, such as Mr. Smooth.

I only consider myself truly over a guy if I can see him and speak and keep it moving like I would with any other acquaintance. It doesn’t count if I’m purposely not speaking to him for whatever reason, because that only means that I’m still harboring some ill emotions toward him and I don’t think you can truly be over someone if you’re still mad about whatever happened. The point is to wipe the slate clean. Cherish the good memories, forget about the bad ones, and keep it moving.

I’ll get there with Mr. Smooth eventually. I’m resilient. No matter how much they’ve hurt me, I’ve always bounced back. What else is there to do?

But for right now, he’s my Achilles’ heel. There’s always that one person that you’re weak for, whether you’re involved or not or even on good terms or not. It seems Mr. Smooth is that guy. I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for him and as pathetic as this is, if he wanted to kiss and make up, I’d consider it. I’m still attracted to him, unfortunately.

It’d help if there were someone worthy enough to serve as a distraction, but I haven’t come across anyone who piques my interest lately. I’m particular.

There are dozens of men that I know I could have at my door right now with a mere snap of my fingers. Quite a few of them might even genuinely like me and would want to actually date me.

The problem is, I don’t want any of them. I never want the ones that I don’t have to chase. I always want the aloof, elusive ones that really don’t give a shit about me. I always want the unattainable ones. The emotionally unavailable ones. The taken ones. I’m starting to think that in a subconsciously masochistic way, I’m purposely going for people that I know are going to hurt me eventually. Maybe that’s the appeal. Maybe I like the risk. I dunno.

Regardless of how many times I get hurt though, I try not to let bad experiences turn me into a bitter gal. I love men. I work with mostly men and thus my job has allowed me the opportunity to befriend a lot of them on a platonic level and to gain more insight into their psyches. I’m aware of their shortcomings and I try to work around them. On the same token, I’m also aware of my own shortcomings and I realize the things I’ve done, and continue to do, that cause my romances to crash and burn. I try to recognize my own personality flaws and to correct them. Off the bat I know I’m impatient, slightly bratty, and maybe a tad bit demanding. I want what I want when I want it. Those traits aren’t too popular with the menfolk. I’m trying though…

Anyway, on a random note, I must say that THIS sounds like it hurts: A Spanish matador gets gored through the throat. Ouch!