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.)