Signed, sealed, delivered

This is not me. This isn't me! I'm logical and level headed (hey, hey! Stop laughing. Stop! So I sound crazy sometimes. Sometimes my writing makes me sound like an insane, obsessed, sex-crazed teenager. Sometimes. Sometimes...). In my work, in my life, in all facets outside of relationships, outside of the opposite sex, I like to think I am mostly sane. Mostly coherent. Pulled together. But.

The crazy is coming out. The madness. Suddenly, The Entire Package, suddenly, I know he's not going to call. Because why would he? We met, we had great conversation, but truthfully, I just assumed he was interested in a relationship. Because ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am.

What? you ask.

But if he doesn't call, well, then that means he doesn't have it. He's not The Entire Package. I’ll try not to add him to the collective Men I Wish I Never Met. I’ll try not to take it personally. Why would I take it personally? I don’t know what’s going on in his life. This has nothing to do with me. I met him once. One time and I’m taking his avoidance as a testament to my worth. My value.

However, one time and I’m interested in him enough to take it personally. One time and I left before it got heated; I left before I could be foolish, I left the ball in his court. I like him. I alluded to this. I like him. I’m interested enough to be a bit taken aback that he hasn’t called. I’m interested enough to be mentally preparing for letdown. To not let it get to me. I’m distanced already; I’m angry but pretending not to be. I’m offended but acting nonchalant. Like I didn’t expect any different. Because in my experience, I shouldn’t expect any different.

I’m writing this and sounding like a maniac, and all the while I’m also thinking about how I can’t even remember what he looks like. We had good conversation, but what exactly did we talk about? What was said? What looks were exchanged? Was he tall enough?

But maybe I’m saying this because I’m proving to myself that it doesn’t matter. That my feelings aren’t hurt. I will not let this man hurt my feelings. I will not. It was nothing. It was kissing. And kissing doesn’t kill. Why don’t I follow my own rules? Why?