When Harry Met Sally. Or something along those lines.

Okay. I'm no longer the victim here. This is me. Making very conscious decisions. Me drinking too much and falling asleep next to Mr. Right, me waking up to him, me touching him, me thinking about The New Guy?!

What kind of self-sabotage am I getting at?

Make a decision. Make a decision. It's like I have nothing better to do than toy with the emotions of my best friend. But then. But then. I'm not trying to make him feel bad. I'm not trying to make myself feel bad. But maybe I shouldn't drink bloody marys and then confess something vaguely like "I love you" and then fall asleep pressed against him. Maybe I shouldn't hold his hand sometimes. Maybe I should tell him that all those nights where I'm awfully vague about my plans? Those nights? Yes? Ohh, yes, I'm dating Someone New.

I'm throwing up my hands while I type which we all know is not at all conducive to forming actual words. I will make sense of this. I will. I will.