Self destruction isn't always a bad thing

I happened to have liked my self destructive previous ways. I liked having a rotation of men. I liked having a back burner. I liked having options. I liked not constantly worrying that maybe I'm messing up the best thing that has ever happened to me because I'm too immature to handle it.

Maybe it's my imagination

I haven't seen much of him. I'm trying to busy myself so I don't have to think that it's really not working, that I never thought we couldn't work, that we aren't working. That we may not make it. We may not make it.

I can't allow myself to think it. I can't imagine us not making it.

But maybe it's just me being set in my ways and too scared to let him go when I know that he's hurting me, that I'm hurting him, that we're turning on each other, that maybe we're both busying ourselves so that we don't have to watch it crumble.

It's only been three years of this. Of us doing this dance. I keep hoping maybe this is just a phase. Maybe it will work out. But maybe it won't.

Turn on

I'm turning on him.

Apathy and other holiday woes

It's hard to say that we're slowing breaking up. Slowly not getting along. Slowly.

I asked him to leave.

He's still here. Fixing things around the house. Pressed against me as I sleep.

Me, with a glass of red in hand, wandering between rooms, baking cookies because it's fall, it's Thanksgiving, we have to wait until Thanksgiving is over, then he will leave.

It's not official. We haven't officially decided to break up. I don't want to break up. I don't think he does either. But I don't really know, now do I?

He keeps staying out until dawn. Not telling me what's going on. Shutting himself off from me. Hurting me in ways I didn't know possible. He's pushed me to the edge and I've had enough. I told him to go. He wants to stay gone all the time, then go.

I can't decide if this is the end or just the beginning of the end.

He totally gets me

He left for work. A few minutes later he came back just to drop off

Yoo-hoo. He hates Yoo-hoo.

He totally gets me.

Barely bearable

It feels too personal to say. To write. It was all fun and games when I just moved on to another in a series of expendable men. But this time it's him, the one who I thought was The One. I feel stupid for thinking that now. For having thought that.

I can't bear to imagine life without him but more and more I can't bear how badly I feel about it all.

Peanut butter cup apologies

We're not speaking.

You know how hard it is to not speak to someone you share a bedroom with?

Yeah.

I found this on my computer after he left for work. A Reese's cup as a peace offering?

So he still loves me.

Well. He still needs to apologize.

Strange love

Has anyone watched The New Girl? I am that girl.

(Except not so over the top. Can I get a show of hands as to who thinks her character is just a little too much?)

I'm spunky. I'm weird.

And I think I'm translating that into being something that I'm not with The Boyfriend. I was always spunky and strange when we were friends, but now that we're together, I want to be some sort of sex kitten all of the time.

I'm not a sex kitten.

But I keep acting like I should be. But. I'm not.

Sure trumps Folgers

Waking up next to him never gets old.

Handsy

It's getting a little out of hand.

Weird

I think I'm just making it all up in my head. Or feeling flattered.

Why must I be such an attention whore?

I'm hanging out with The Roommate more and more, and it all seems perfectly normal. He doesn't come on to me, we don't talk about too much in particular - the conversation seems to flow around movies we're watching or music we like. Like we're friends. We act like friends. We do things that friends do.

But more than one person has said something to me. Has said, Hey, is he into you?

He doesn't act like it while we're hanging around our house eating cold pizza and doing nothing in particular. So then I just get paranoid and want to make sure I'm not doing anything untoward. I'm not up to no good. I have the best intentions. I do. I do.

But I'm aware. I wish I could stop thinking about it. Worrying that I'm accidentally sending some sort of signal when before I wouldn't have thought twice about sending him a weird link to something weird we talked about the other day. Now I feel weird.

It's getting weird.

Daydrinking + trust issues

It's late.

I came home late from a [girl] friend's house.

I still have to make a point to mention that. No, I'm not with Some Boy. I'm not with Any Boy. I'm not Going Behind Your Back. I've been on my Best Behavior. I leave my Facebook open on my computer, my g-mail open, my phone in his sight while I wander off to do what I do. I come home right after work. I text him what I'm doing. Because he doesn't trust me. I know this. We've had a rocky year, we had a rocky two [friendship. Not friendship. Friendship. Not dating. Friendship.] years before that. We don't trust each other.

I mean, it's my perspective. This is my blog. My words. You don't get to hear his side. He has a side. But I keep thinking, I will leave him.

I am drinking whiskey neat and shouldn't be telling anyone this but all I can think is I will cheat on him. I will sabotage this.

I am vindictive. And my level of openness does not coincide with his. He is not open.

But then I think it's me.

And then I think It's just not meant to be.

And then but we're perfect for each other.

We both love daydrinking.

We have amazing chemistry (No. Seriously.).

I've never been as much myself around anyone as him.

But when I really think about it, I think both of us need to grow up. He needs to decide to come home at a decent hour, I need to decide to feel secure in myself, in our relationship, and like he won't leave me at any possible moment. Because all I ever think is he will leave.

But then I think he needs to be more open.

It's my perspective. I can't make heads or tails of this. But I'm starting to feel more and more like The Roommate is more interested in my point of view than The Boyfriend. Which is not a recipe for success.

I don't want to be vindictive. I just want to fall asleep watching a movie at night next to The Boyfriend. I don't want to wonder if he will come home or not. I don't want to wake at 6am and realize he isn't here. I don't want to blog to the world all my selfish problems.

Flighty

I thought exercise would clear my head. I told myself I would feel better. I do my best thinking while running. I think more clearly.

I was almost done with my run, stopped on a Chicago street corner, waiting for the walk signal, and all I could think was, I don't trust my boyfriend. I think he is a liar.

I kept running. I thought maybe I could run that idea off, think it through, get to the crux of it.

I think that is the crux of it.

Undecided

Blogger tricked me.

So I went with it. And updated the blog.

I'm still on the fence.

Attention whore

I'm just being an attention whore now.

That's all there is to it.

I'm trying to stir up trouble where there is none, folks. So The Roommate likes me. I don't like him. I happen to like The Boyfriend. I've been clear. I'm not sending mixed signals.

But suddenly I'm thinking really hard about it all. Pretending like things are awkward when they aren't. It's not some dramatic living situation where I'm having some clandestine affair with my roommate while my boyfriend is away. I'm not sharing looks with The Roommate. I'm not acting out of the ordinary.

I'm just thinking it to death (which is just so unlike me, of course...). I need to stop categorizing it and let it go. It's not a big deal. It's a fleeting thing.

It's my ego.

Best in show

I'm really trying to be on my best behavior. I promise. I am.

Down deep

So.

The Boyfriend has known that The Roommate has a thing for me.

I mentioned this, no?

I hang out with The Roommate. We are friends. We go out often. I've never thought twice about it. Until a month ago, six weeks ago, I can't remember, I've mentioned it before. He made a pass at me. I shrugged it off. Two weeks later, he made a pass at me, I shrugged it off. Again and again and I told myself he was drunk, I told myself that I was handling it, I sought advice from my girl friends, I did not tell The Boyfriend.

But the other night, The Boyfriend mentioned how obvious it is that The Roommate likes me.

Huh?

It doesn't seem obvious to me. It seems like The Roommate gets drunk and confused. But The Boyfriend doesn't know this. He doesn't know he's made passes. I think it's better that way. How is it obvious?

Will it always be this way? Can I ever trust a man to just want to be my friend? Is this why I have such issues with The Boyfriend? Because deep down, I believe he'll get drunk and make a pass at someone else. Deep down, I think he will cheat on me.

Deep down, I have a lot of insecurities.

Waiting game

I have got to get out of my head and over myself and realize that it's just not all about me.

I think once I accept that, I will be okay.

Now I wait.

Focus features

I just kept thinking it would be black and white. I was single, I was lonely. I'm relationship-ped, and now I feel insecure and scared often.

At least when I was single I had some sort of outlet - kissing whomever I pleased - albeit an unhealthy outlet, but an outlet. I had an outlet. And now all I feel is extreme happiness and extreme sadness.

Maybe this has nothing to do with The Boyfriend.

This has nothing to do with The Boyfriend.

It has to do with me. Focus. Focus. It's me.

Differing opinions

It's been days and still I have nothing to say to him.

Nothing happened. That's the shift. I keep thinking that we shouldn't have done this. We were best friends. And now it feels like he doesn't want me as his best friend anymore.

I'm probably the one categorizing it in this way. He hasn't thought twice about it. But we haven't spoken.

Wait. We have spoken. We've talked about flight details for our planned trip next month. We've discussed winterizing our apartment. We've talked about our respective jobs.

Is that what it's become? We shared pizza and beer tonight and I don't know what we said to each other. Maybe we said things. But all it feels like is one huge disconnect.

Words we never said

But this is why I don't talk to him.

The Bartender.

Something about me: I paint. And I set out to teach him a few things. And I left a set of paints with him. A year ago.

So I finally got up the nerve to text him, to ask him about the forgotten paints, the paints I'd like to have back, that I've pushed out of my mind, and while we were talking about paints, we weren't talking about paints.

How to describe it? I thought I could joke about it, telling him I thought I would leave them and you'd paint a masterpiece, and he said, You were supposed to help me.

And I said, Stupid Chicago. And then him: Yeah well.

Maybe I'm taking it too seriously.

But maybe I'm not.

I think about my life had I not left. I can't pretend to believe it would have worked. That we would have made it this long. Maybe we would have. Maybe I'm being romantic.

Kiss and tell

It's like a damn miracle that I haven't cheated on him yet.

I know.

I know.

I act like a prima donna. I get it.

But with any other man.

Any other man.

I wouldn't put up with this. I wouldn't be so damn grumpy all of the time. I would cut it off.

I would kiss other boys. I would go my own way. It wouldn't work.

And at this point I can't decide if it's me or if it's him. I'm pretty sure it's me. I'm pretty sure it's been me. He's right. He's right. It's me. I can't wrap my head around this. I can't stop being petty. I don't know how to be normal. I have to pick it apart.

It's me.

It's not him.

So it's normal to think that kissing other boys is logical. It's logical.

(I'm not kissing other boys. But I'm beginning to have a hard time not.)

Situational irony

I don't think it's me.

But it probably is.

We know it already. I am one to instigate, to lead on, to make trouble. I kind of hate his new late night working lifestyle, but I can't help but think I'm missing out. Because in the glory days of me living the single life (oh, it was cool, I'm sure no one remembers the crazy rants of days past), I partied a little too hard, I went out on Tuesday nights, I stayed up well past my bedtime. And somehow, somehow, I keep finding myself in the same situations that I previously found my single self in.

That's not coincidence.

Maybe this is why I have a hard time trusting.

Because deep down, I'm not trustworthy.

But I keep thinking I am.

I am.

Am I?

So last month it was that random guy who I sort of know and right before The Boyfriend shows up on the scene, after I've talked him up, this guy tries to kiss me and I'm all like, Dude, whaaat? Like I didn't see it coming.

And then while back home I was in a fight with The Boyfriend and I ran into The Bartender and then I shouldn't have been texting him once he left and I didn't meet up with him and even if I had met him I wouldn't have kissed him, wouldn't have anything him, couldn't have anything him, could only remember how it was good. It was good. But it wasn't The Boyfriend.

And now, now, well, no, last week. Last week. The Roommate. He sort of professed his love? I don't know. I feel like I'm talking myself up here. I'm not trying to. I hang out with The Roommate all of the time. The Boyfriend hangs out with The Roommate all of the time. And last week The Roommate and I were sitting on a stoop at a party and I was trying my damnedest to wingman and said something like, "There are lots of pretty girls here." And he said something like, "But I'm sitting next to the prettiest." And then I was like, "Come onnn." And then it was a long night of me being in denial, and even now, I'm not sure if he remembers trying to kiss me in a cab on the way back to our joint dwelling.

So maybe he was just drunk.

But.

It occurred to me yesterday or so that maybe it's me. Maybe normal people don't have men trying to kiss them this frequently because they're not putting themselves in these situations.

That sounded all wrong.

Compromising position

I'm beginning to worry that the beauty of compromise is becoming me constantly reminding myself that I'm not allowed to feel this or that or the other thing that I always feel.

That's not compromise.

Where is the middle ground?

Did I choose the wrong man?

Separated

I've been working too much.

I have separation anxiety.

I don't like it.

Swimmingly

It's all just going swimmingly.

I'm working a ton. I'm distracting myself.

I'm not making this relationship my entire life.

(It's good.)

Hold the nuts

I'm beginning to fear that I only have something to say when I'm feeling completely nuts.

So. Not nuts tonight.

Not nuts at all.

It's wonderful. He's wonderful. My first few days back home in Chicago, I kept waking up from dreams in which I was only here visiting. I would wake up and pull him in close close closer, I was so scared my dream world would turn into reality.

Lovesick

I mean. I'm not sure I couldn't love him.

(The Boyfriend, that is.)

Toeing the line

Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have done anything.

I was...toeing the line. Why?

Doubt. Nostalgia. Thinking about my life had I stayed.

Testing the waters. Toeing the line. Knowing my life wouldn't be better had I stayed, The Bartender and I wouldn't have worked in the long run, he annoys me mostly, his addictions always would have come before me, we would explode. But. It was never about the words we said to each other. The space between us was the part that I couldn't shake. Being near him felt like enough.

It was never about words, especially because the last words we didn't say to each other were I love you.

Forgotten

I ran into The Bartender. Not on his turf. On mine. If you can still call that place mine.

I was out with friends, laughing too much, and The Bartender walked in. There he was.

It didn't help that The Boyfriend and I were in a fight. And that I was taking Sunday Funday very seriously.

Reasons.

I sidled up next to him at the bar. I pretended like it wasn't A Big Deal. I couldn't get situated. He gently pulled my chair a fraction closer to him.

And what did I think? That I could just pick up where I left off? That ten months and me falling really, really into love with one of his friends didn't matter? That me being back, only for a visit, it didn't matter?

Nothing happened. Don't worry. I just forgot.

Forgot what?

Tending bar

I saw The Bartender for the first time since I left him at dawn to fly off to Chicago almost a year ago.

I would say it was...awkward.

Well. No.

I would say we were in a crowded bar and he was working and I was wearing a glow bracelet and feeling nostalgic and missing my boyfriend and then thinking, This would be my life had I not left it.

Trusty

Trust. Oh, trust.

Home is where the heart is

I'm back home on a visit, leaving The Boyfriend back in Chicago.

And I miss him.

I really, really miss him.

Type A

Oh. Well.

Now that I think about it.

Maybe I was always the jealous type.

I just never had this much invested in a relationship.

Perfection

"I'm terrified I'm in love with him and he's gonna leave me because I'm not perfect." Carrie Bradshaw

Why do we allow ourselves to feel this way? Why do I feel like he will not love me? Why do I feel like my world would crash down upon me if he knows that I'm not perfect?

(And let's get this straight: we live together. He knows. I'm not hiding anything, even if I pretend I am. He knows me. So why am I obsessed?)

"Sex and the City" keeps validating my deep-seated fears. I must stop watching.

Ready to relate

The truth is, I don't really think I'm ready for this kind of relationship. I have marriage issues, I have trust issues, and now I'm supposed to be in a relationship? I'm supposed to be serious about this?

I can't help but think that this is never what I wanted, I was never ready for this, that it just happened, and now I know that if I leave, if I mess it up, I'll never get it back. This is the relationship I want, but the timing feels off. I need to deal with myself.

But he's The One. I just need to get over my issues. I don't want our relationship to suffer over my un-dealt with things.

Insured

The Boyfriend recently brought up me being put on his health insurance as his "domestic partner." He kept acting weird about it and pausing a lot, and I couldn't figure out what his deal was. We already live together. We already know each other better than anyone. I didn't realize how big a deal it was to him. I suppose it is a big deal. But I always thought we were.

Picked up

The Marriage Quotient, Part III

Attraction.

Do I have to remind myself that I'm in love? That I'm no longer That Girl? I prefer it this way. Mostly. I prefer The Love. I prefer The Boyfriend. I know that kissing someone random isn't going to make anything better in the long run.

I know that The Boyfriend is just what I want, he's The Entire Package (yes, I've blogged about that before), but should I have to remind myself?

Are we all sometimes in this position? Do we all wonder what if? I don't want to wonder what if. I don't want him to wonder what if.

Will it ever be clear to me? Will there always be shades of grey? Will I ever really know?

That Girl

I am pretty happily relationship-ed. I ran into this guy I sort of know the other night, who The Boyfriend and I both sort of know, and he invited me to have a drink with all of his friends. I agreed, and then it gets fuzzy. I kept talking about The Boyfriend, about safe topics, but I knew it wasn't safe.

All these words were saying one thing but I kept thinking that maybe they weren't.

We were in a public place. His friends were there. We were talking about my boyfriend. We were talking about his ex-girlfriend (who I sort of know, too.). We were talking about sportswear.

I don't have many friends in Chicago. I was excited someone wanted to be my friend.

But I should know that no man ever wants to be my friend. Can men and women be just friends? Do I never set clear boundaries? Is something innately wrong with me?

He was drunk. And he tried to kiss me.

I was incredulous. But not really.

Because I should have seen it coming. I feel culpable. I can't help but wonder if I let it happen. If I could have stopped it. If my words, all that talk, it was me saying one thing, but it never meant a thing. My words weren't enough.

The secret is this: part of me got a thrill. I remembered how it used to be. How I used to be. I'd meet a man, I'd kiss a man, I'd obsess for a few days until I met another new man. I thought about how, yeah, I could kiss this guy. We were standing there and he got too close and I realized he was really trying to kiss me, that I wasn't imagining it, and I thought about it. I thought about kissing him. And the very next thing I thought about was being pressed against The Boyfriend later that night while falling asleep.

That emotional turmoil I used to purposely put myself through? Apparently, I still crave it. But I couldn't do that to The Boyfriend. The thrill isn't worth it. It's The Boyfriend I want. Waking up next to The Boyfriend, cooking breakfast with him, bickering about music preferences, talking about the grocery list - that's what I want. That's who I am.

I am not That Girl anymore.

How long do I have to remind myself?

Questionable matters

How do we move forward? How do we accept the past? It happened, we must let go of it, we must let go. How do we move forward and not let the past keep sneaking back into the present?

It's cyclical now, our fighting. Someone said this who said this who brought up this former lover. This former relationship. This former thing that no longer matters but neither one of us can let it go.

How do people successfully go from friends to relationship? Isn't there a middle ground of knowing just too damn much?

We know too much about each other's pasts. We can't seem to shake it. We can't seem to stay focused on the present, on the fact that when we're happy, we've never been happier. Well, now I'm just speaking for myself. I've never been happier. Usually. How do I steer myself from dwelling on things that happened already and just don't matter? How can I make myself believe they don't matter? How can I shake the worry that I will never feel comfortable here, in this place?

I suppose I just look forward, not back. I don't dwell. I don't allow myself to get caught up. It doesn't matter. I keep telling myself it doesn't matter.

Everything and more or less

I keep forgetting that I am still interesting and desirable outside of my relationship. This thing has put some kind of weird curse on me to make me feel insecure and scared. What is that? Is that just my deep-seated fear of rejection by someone I love?

Perhaps.

But just taking a look around, I can see that I am still interesting, I am still attractive, I am still everything that I always was. Why has this relationship made me bipolar (no offense to all the current celebrities who have recently caught this disease)? Why am I either excessively happy or excessively sad? How does that add up? Why can't I feel like myself within this thing? Maybe it hasn't been marriage all along, maybe it's my identity, my feelings of insecurity within this. Something along the lines of not being able to see the forest for the trees? But me not being able to see myself anymore. Me not valuing myself anymore. Me not recognizing anything that I may have to offer outside of this.

I can't help but feel like my worth is somehow tied up in all of this, and I can't get beyond it.

Overserved

It's probably not exceptionally healthy that I keep thinking boyfriend or vodka?

Qualifier

Fine. I had two beers and got all lightweight-style and texted The Doctor. Nothing inappropriate, don't worry.

It's the song thing. It's that song, "Home," by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I was out last night and it came on. Every time I hear it, I am reminded of The Doctor, whom first introduced me to the song. And he ended up with it. He took it. He drove to Seattle with it. And now I can't hear it without him coming to mind.

So I called him a song thief via text. And he said, "The funny thing is, in my mind it belongs to you :)"

Maybe I should qualify it by saying it was nothing tangibly inappropriate. Well. Maybe not.

Sex in the Second City

I've been watching a lot of "Sex and the City." And I'm starting to wonder if I would put up with the kinds of things The Boyfriend and I fight about with any other man.

No. I wouldn't.

We have history. It makes it different. We get into huge fights about nothing - really, the other day an hour long fight over how he knows I don't like Red Hot Chili Peppers why are you acting like you don't know this?! but then incredible make up sex. And us laughing at how ridiculous we are.

Maybe I should lay off the "Sex and the City."

Coin toss

So.

Always jealous and insecure?

Or carefree and lonely?

Is it always a toss up?

Some people want to get married, don't they?

Why don't I?

What do they know?

Friends forever

What if being friends first doesn't really matter? What if all this fighting that hasn't worked itself out in almost a year means more? I thought being friends first would make it easier. It's made it harder. Harder to stay, knowing too much, harder to leave, when it's my best friend.

To the extreme

It feels a little bipolar. We're constantly experiencing extreme highs or extreme lows. Hmm.

Trust me, I know what I'm doing

I'm working on the trust thing.

What this means, I don't know.

I'm trying to focus on the present, on the future. I'm trying not to be suspicious.

The fundamentals

It's something fundamentally within me: I do not trust men.

I hope to one day overcome this.

Obsessed

I've got to let it go. I obsess over things I cannot change. I've always done it.

I must stop.

Stressors

I'm different now that we're here. Now that we're in a relationship.

We were friends for so long, and now I am markedly different. I get jealous easily. I want all his attention. This is not healthy. I know it isn't. I get upset with myself for not being a better person, for not letting things go, for not being able to go with the flow.

I can't go with the flow. I hate this about myself: my inability to just let things be, and it's becoming more apparent as the relationship goes on, as I am still unable to make some friends, as we're still broke.

I think it's a lot of factors. Stress. It's ugly.

Once a cheater, always a cheater

This is the point in every relationship, non-relationship (you know the drill) that I have in which I cheat. I wander off, I deviate, just to make myself feel in control. I want to be in control. And it really feels like he has the upper hand here. I feel alone. It's not his fault.

I mean. It's not him. It's me.

But I get bitter and jealous when he spends time with his friends. Because I don't have any of my own in Chicago. It feels unfair, and I feel like a child all of the time, constantly thinking life isn't playing by my rules.

The problem is [or mostly isn't]: I can't cheat. I wouldn't dream of cheating.

Dammit!

Back to back

He's back. It's fine. I guess.

Something shifted. I realized how reliant I am upon him. And now I can't snap out of this loneliness. He's sitting right here, but he will leave.

The fight. I started it. I take fault. Bad move, Heartless. Not cool.

But he left.

I told him to stay.

He left.

I chased him down the street. (Yes. Just like in the movies.)

We had a brief reconciliation. Then we got into another shouting match. Then I walked away. And then he was gone.

And now. Nothing. He won't say a word.

He left.

The Marriage Quotient, Part II

He said he didn't believe in marriage.

I've always said that I don't believe in marriage.

But I took offense. As someone who was married before, he holds far more insight on the issue than me, but all my immature self could think was, He married her, and now he doesn't want to marry me.

Entirely illogical. I know this. Now if only I would believe it.

(Because I still don't believe in marriage.)

Getaway

This is the shift. It always happens. I suddenly see myself out. Outside of the relationship. I see my getaway. And now I worry there's no turning back.

Spoken for

I don't want to speak too soon.

But I feel like I'm coming to terms with this. This jealousy I've been grappling with, how I've felt resentful and have been brooding for no real reason - I feel like maybe it's starting to work itself out. Maybe it is just time that I need. Maybe if I just give it more time, if I refocus my thinking, if I don't think it to death, if I don't play out every possible scenario, if I just let it go, maybe I'll be okay.

Maybe I'll be just fine.

But that's no reason to jinx myself.

Coincidence

I saw The New/Old Guy, whatever we're calling him, on the street while riding the bus with The Boyfriend. Chicago is far smaller than I gave it credit for.

How often do I even look up from my book/conversation/Itunes to look out the window? Just saying. It feels weird.

Check, please

I don't particularly want to bore you with the mundane details of a relationship right now. Check back later.

Rational

My entire life is not this relationship. I just keep forgetting.

Hellish waters

Its jealousy. I've never been so jealous. I've never been the type. So what makes it different? Why am I this way? A million reasons: it feels like being friends first helps, usually, but mostly, in this case, being friends first actually just helps you to visualize who was sleeping with whom before The Relationship began. And tonight over burritos with a friend, with our mutual friend, I finally connected the dots to someone else on his list, someone before me, well before me, and I can't shake it. I was the one who resisted The Relationship, who dated all his friends, who introduced The Boyfriend to the men I was dating, The Doctor, December Boy, The Man From Boston, everyone. And now I'm the one who is jealous over an affair that happened years before we knew each other? It doesn't make sense! It doesn't make sense.

The only way I can rationalize it is by thinking this is it, I'm all in, I've never been all in, but really, really, I'm all in. I'm all in. I don't know how to be all in. I always have a Back Up Plan. But now I don't.

And I'm scared as hell.

Forgetful

He's out of town this week. And I'm...alive. And...busy. I've become so used to him next to me, to coming home to him, to sharing a bathroom and pressing myself against him for just one more minute before getting out of bed, that I forgot: I exist outside of him.

I'd forgotten.

Love song

Call me melodramatic, go ahead, I dare you. But with all this working from home, with all this nothing but The Boyfriend and this work, I can't help but start thinking about how it might be easier, it would be easier, if I could just love him less. If I were with someone different, my life would be easier. If things could have just worked with The Doctor, I would be simpler. I wouldn't love him this way. I couldn't love him this way.

But. Its amazing, loving someone this way. I can't imagine my life without him. He's become part of me. I couldn't love anyone else. Not this way.

Friendly

I don't have any guy friends. I've seen all of them in some state of undress, in some compromising situation, one in which our lips were pressed against the each others, our limbs tangled in some way. Our hands touching.

It never meant anything. I started this as entertainment, Oh, what mess has Heartless gotten herself into now? And only now am I realizing that maybe it was significant to my character, the way I was. The trouble I would get myself into. And now that I don't have the constant flow of meaningless kissing, I'm finally focusing on the problem that was always there: me.

How do I stop counting my worth in regards to the number of men I can kiss in a month in a week in a day? What is my new outlet, how do I stop this panic that has taken hold?

Enough

I've got to stop making myself miserable. Thinking of a reason, listening to Ryan Adams, using this as some sort of cathartic outlet when in fact, in fact, things aren't so bad. I need to stop looking for trouble, looking for signs that aren't there. Enough.

Cliff hanger

Its beautiful, its perfect. Until I get a moment alone inside my own head and can't find my way out. Can't talk myself down from the cliff, the cliff of what if and before I know it, before I can stop it, I've jumped.

This is no way to live, giving in to this. I just can't stop thinking he will leave you. He will see you, and he will leave.

I was much more entertaining before.

The One

After too much vodka, after 3am, I whispered, You're The One.

Look at me

“Maybe the first time you saw her you were ten. She was standing in the sun scratching her legs. Or tracing letters in the dirt with a stick. Her hair was being pulled. Or she was pulling someone’s hair. And a part of you was drawn to her, and a part of you resisted—wanting to ride off on your bicycle, kick a stone, remain uncomplicated. In the same breath you felt the strength of a man, and a self-pity that made you feel small and hurt. Part of you thought: Please don’t look at me. If you don’t, I can still turn away. And part of you thought: Look at me.”
— Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

All cards on the table

It would be easier to not be with him. It would be simpler. I would be simpler. I wouldn't be feeling how I've felt for the last week. I would feel more normal. Well. My version of normal.

I get it, it wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't be the same. To be extremely happy also means I have to be extremely vulnerable. I don't really think I have a choice.

Grass is always greener

The grass certainly is always greener.

Before the relationship, the snuggling, the confidante, he was only my best friend. And I wasn't a crazy jealous nutcase.

I was just a bitter nutcase.

I think it has to do with knowing each other first. Knowing myself first. Knowing something first. I'm unhinged, I've been unhinged, I need to come to terms with it. I just don't know what it is I need to come to terms with.

Eye to eye

We're having a really hard time.

I'm jealous.

He's defensive.

I'm spiteful.

He won't look at me.

Status update

The Bartender "is in a relationship." I'm not phased particularly, more, just, curious.

Lovely

I mean, its sort of flattering.

But it must stop.

The New/Old Guy, whomever I was dating last year, before I chose The Boyfriend (for obvious reasons), he's recently been coming on strong. Or strong. There is the aforementioned message about him thinking about me when he shouldn't, and now: another message that he wishes I were there. With him.

I'm not entirely sure when signals became crossed. I've been quite clear.

And while I used to feed off of this, while this used to be my daily entertainment, now it causes me concern because I would never ever do anything to jeopardize my relationship. I'm in.

I'm in. I'm in love.

Green eyed monster

I must overcome this jealousy. I must.

Two plus two

I was always hiding a part of myself from every other man. Anything I didn't want him to see- my drinking, my swearing, my overly type A tendencies- I would push away. I would put on a nice face and not say fuck and be on my best behavior.

The Boyfriend is the one man with whom I never did that. I probably should have put two and two together some time ago.

He said, she said

He said, "I know we're just friends but I can't help but think about you right now."

I haven't said anything.

I can't say anything. I should say something. Some way to shrug it off, smooth the rough edges.

This is it

Confession: I don't have any money. No one is interested in me for my money. So when I get sick, I'm screwed.

I got sick.

The Boyfriend and I waited. Waited. Waited until we weren't seeing straight. Waited until we each separately annoyed the nurse on duty. Waited.

I finally got seen by a real, live doctor eleven hours after I arrived at the clinic. (If I ever become a politician, my most harped upon platform will likely be healthcare, in case you were wondering.) I talked to the doctor, he left. An hour later, he came back. An hour later, another doctor came. The Boyfriend and I were exhausted. We began taking tiny, fitful naps on the gurney that was set up in the room. Crammed next to each other, touching pinkies, drifting in and out of sleep, it felt like the best moment of my life. (The pinkies, not the circumstances.)

I'm fine for all concerned parties. Just another of the details that make this love thing worthwhile. Another anecdote to describe the parts of it, another way of me saying this is it without me saying it. This is it.

Exhausted all possibilities

(Its that I don't believe any relationship will succeed, that I think someone will always cheat, that I think someone will always get tired of trying.)

Unbearable

He's gone. And I'm unsure what to do with myself. We've fallen into this so hard that my thoughts are not only consumed by him, but they may no longer be separate. I don't mean to sound fatalistic. Words don't work the way they used to.

I can't pull myself away from him in the morning. I cross the room just to touch his arm. I think about my life, my future, in regards to him. So he has left on a short holiday. He'll be back in just a couple days.

But I can't shake this, this worry about how I will get to sleep without him. Its unbearable, new love. I cannot be trusted.

Green with envy

I can't help it. I don't want to be the jealous type. I never thought of myself much as 'the jealous type.' But I think I always knew there was something to being single, something that made me feel unique, that made me feel different and special. I think its an attraction thing. I'm inappropriately tied to my need to feel attractive, to be found attractive, and waking up next to someone on a daily basis squelches that.

Call me vain. I don't care.

I do care. I do. I don't want to feel this way. This jealousy that I have with The Boyfriend: it was news to me when I realized: its not him, its me. My own issues are rearing their ugly heads in this relationship, and I can't blame it on anyone but me. Its finally not the wrong man, its not the wrong circumstances, its just my unhinged melodrama. Pardon me.

The Marriage Quotient, Part I

The part of me that doesn't want to get married (and maybe it's the naïve part, maybe it's the part that just doesn't get "adult relationships") is the part that doesn't want to hate the man I'm supposed to like. Love is one thing, but, again, I don't think it's a lasting formula for a relationship. I think love only goes so far. I may love him in five years, but will I be in love with him? Will I even like him anymore? Will my life become a series of motions and will I settle?

Composure

I'm always more composed here. As a writer, as a blogger, I can be succinct.

Him, with him, I dance around the topic, can't quite put my finger on it, aggravate myself and my lack of words. I can never quite find the right combination of words to say Sleeping next to you has changed my life. Waking with your hand on my hip bone, waking with my face pressed against your shoulder blades, waking from your unbearable warmth, waking next to you: it's made my life.

Love letter, part too many to count

"WHAT I AM NOT:

My brother and I used to play a game. I'd point to a chair. "THIS IS NOT A CHAIR," I'd say. Bird would point to the table. "THIS IS NOT A TABLE." "THIS IS NOT A WALL," I'd say. "THAT IS NOT A CEILING." We'd go on like that. "IT IS NOT RAINING OUT." "MY SHOE IS NOT UNTIED!" Bird would yell. I'd point to my elbow. "THIS IS NOT A SCRAPE." Bird would lift his knee. "THIS IS ALSO NOT A SCRAPE!" "THAT IS NOT A KETTLE!" "NOT A CUP!" "NOT A SPOON!" "NOT DIRTY DISHES!" We denied whole rooms, years, weathers. Once, at the peak of our shouting, Bird took a deep breath. At the top of his lungs, he shrieked: "I! HAVE NOT! BEEN! UNHAPPY! MY WHOLE! LIFE!" "But you're only seven," I said." — Nicole Krauss

It wasn't nothing.

Runaway

One of my friends thought that I'd run away with someone when I knew it was right. Me, the man hater, the man user - she told me she thought I'd meet someone and immediately run off, off into love, and that I'd never look back. She thought that when I met someone who was right, it would be right, no going back.

I ran away to Chicago.

(I've met someone right.)

As the world turns

I moved to Chicago to change my life. My life is still the same, I just dress more weather-appropriate.

I sought a man for the exact same reason.

(It seems I've got quite a bit to learn.)

Lovestruck

Once I'm in, I'm in, and it's wonderful with him. I'm not interested in dating anyone else, or being with anyone else. We spend a lot of time together, and it's really great. It's just like any other relationship I suppose, but I'm not constantly thinking that something better might be out there. I don't think there is anything better than him.

How sappy have I become? Forgive me, please.

Tacky

There is no way to dress this up. I'm not going to sound eloquent. One of my guy friends put the moves on me. I knew he liked me. But I dismissed it as a harmless crush.

Due to the long history between The Boyfriend and me, we haven't told very many people about The Relationship. Not that we're hiding it, just that we want it to be our own thing, and don't want it marred with others' opinions. It's not some big secret, but we don't mind keeping it close for a bit longer.

So my guy friend who put the moves on me is actually our guy friend, The Boyfriend's friend well before he was mine. But like I said, the history between The Boyfriend and me is one of friendship, so I can see how it gets confusing. The Guy Friend hasn't been explicitly told otherwise, and tried to kiss me after parting ways with other friends last night.

And now the quandary: how do I manage this with tact?

Payback

The Boyfriend, My Boyfriend, doesn't trust me. This is evident. I conveniently left out the part about him deleting a text from The New Guy last week. The New Guy and I had coffee after he asked me if I was ignoring him.

My Boyfriend, he's not the jealous type. But we're new at this, and he knew me when. He knew me when I dated ...everyone. So I give him some credit, I understand that he still wonders and worries. But ladies and gentleman of the jury, he was no saint. (Those rose colored glasses? No, they don't apply to this relationship.) So, really?

He works late nights. He doesn't come home sometimes. That's fine, he has friends who live near his work, public transit is a bitch after midnight. I just want him to tell me he's crashing elsewhere. Does that make me over-protective and meddlesome? Does it?

He didn't tell me he wasn't coming home. Over the weekend. And again last night. After we had talked about it. (And let's be clear about this, if I didn't come home, he would assume that I was sleeping with The New/Old Guy.) He came in at 10:30 this morning. Sleeping is quite a big deal to me, and me worrying over his absence had disrupted it. He didn't seem to understand my [worry turned to] anger.

And tonight. Tonight I'm getting my girl-music and wine fix, but it's because he's at a post-Christmas party with his best friend...and a date? It's a platonic thing, but the thing is, it's all adding up to a double standard.

I'm not in a relationship to be taught a lesson. To remind me that I'm not trustworthy. To put me in my place. I was a serial dater. He knew me then. I'm with him now. I'm not interested in Other Opportunities.

I don't want to feel as if I'm paying for my former serial dating ways. I shouldn't have to pay like this.

I'm not a player I just crush a lot

Chaos! Disaster!

Nope. Before, it would have been. I'm growing. Isn't that strange?

I have a Work Crush. However, it doesn't make any bit of difference. I can finally see it for what it is: harmless attraction. Before this relationship, I would have wondered. I would have entertained the notion that maybe something would happen between us. A different version of my life. But because of this relationship, I don't worry about it. I am utterly convinced that The Boyfriend gets it. Gets me. And thus no need to entertain anything more than a harmless crush.

Huh.

Fairytales and other ways Disney ruined me

Love.

I’m still waiting for the fairytale, and maybe that’s the problem. With every new guy, I kept thinking, Maybe this time it’ll be different. And the tricky thing is, I chose my best friend.

And the part that gets me? My life is still my life. Clearly this isn’t about love: I moved a thousand miles away from my life just to wake up in a different bed in a different apartment with my best friend to...my life. This is clearly my issue, and nothing to do with the love part.

(The love part is awfully nice, though.)

Coffee break

I had [platonic] coffee with The New Guy.

The Boyfriend was not happy.

Love letter? part IV

Do you think I'm wonderful? She asked him one day as they leaned against the trunk of a petrified maple. No. He said. Why? Because so many girls are wonderful. I imagine hundreds of men have called their loves wonderful today and it's only noon. You couldn't be something that hundreds of others are.

(It's not a love letter. It's denouement. It's giving the benefit of the doubt. That if I had stayed, it would have been okay. But I left. And I'm here. And I'm in love.)

Lesson learned

There's something about getting to know a one night stand after the one night stand that makes it all the less alluring.

I just read Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life, and feel emboldened. I will admit it. I've had this blog for a year, I like to kiss and tell, but I also like to be vague...enough. So, out with it: let's discuss The Third Grader. He lives in Chicago as well. I knew this when I met him briefly over the summer (for a refresher on him, check back to June). There's this one song that reminds me of him that just came on my Itunes. It's one that I had just discovered when I met him, and one that I played for him and laughed.

I had picked him up from his friends' house, and he said he was surprised by my car. He told me he expected me to drive a red sedan. I took a bit of offense. Do I look the type? Did my black SUV say something else entirely? I certainly hoped so. And while riding in my car, I played said song. And just now, hearing it, I thought of him. Of that moment. And how my expectations were so very different then.

Now that I live in Chicago, we have a tentative friendship. I somewhat suspect that we may have had a chance at something had I not been distracted by all The Other Men who always distracted me. What's done is done and we didn't stand a chance, and now we both try very hard to not be awkward around each other.

The rose colored glasses are off. He is certainly not the man of my dreams. He sort of annoys me. It's his laugh. Perhaps this is just another elaborate lesson learned. It always is.

Lovedrunk

Falling in love has also made me fall off the face of the earth.

But honestly, it's kind of hard to update a blog about my kissing life when I am now only kissing one man. And I don't want to harass you fictitious readers with our cuddling and bickering and kissing and the things one does in a relationship. I suppose it will evolve, but I think it will take a bit of time for me to figure out how so.

Stay tuned.

Purely platonic

The New Guy, The Old Guy? He texted me late on New Years' Eve. I was working. He was drunk. I didn't want to work, but now that I'm relationshipped, since the Boyfriend was working, it wasn't that big of a deal. So I worked.

(But it still came to mind for a moment that if not for the relationship, I wouldn't be working, I would be with The New/Old Guy. Drunk with him. At midnight, kissing him.)

So it seems that yes, we do need some time before we can be just friends. It is strange territory, you know. Going from a state of undress to a state of pure friendship. "Pure" was a strange word choice, no? Nothing is pure about it thus far. Well. I'm trying. Clearly we are going to need more time.