Trepidation

I'm going to be seeing Dave on Thursday. It's inevitable, we're both part of a drama group at our church. That is where my therapist suggested I give him the afore-mentioned note, hand it to him personally so I'll be sure he reads it. But even if the note goes directly from my hand to his, there's still no guarantee he'll read it. Or, like my therapist says, if he reads it there's no guarantee he'll respond favorably.

This whole situation is fucked. What in the world made me think Dave would be open to me sharing something like this? I mean Goddamn, he's just an engineer. He's not a counselor, or a teacher, or a pastor. He's a regular guy just trying to get through his own shit without too much of it sticking. It's not fair to me to be stuck in this shit-hole of a life, but it's even less fair to Dave for me to think I can go dumping my problems in his lap.

Maybe it was intentional, my blowing our potential friendship to quivering smithereens. I'm starting to think that on some subconscious level I did this unthinkable thing on purpose. I knew I was scared, sure. Who isn't when venturing into unknown territory? But I was so certain that Dave would understand what I was trying to say. Maybe I overestimated him or my own ability to adequately articulate my mind's inner workings. Either way I have got one hell of a mess to deal with. I didn't say fix because at this point that doesn't look doable. I can only write my little note and hope to God Dave hasn't set his new view of me in stone.