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I don't want a real person in my life. I secretly think a man will hinder my plans, and thus keep saying I only like the thrill of the chase. Because the thrill is fun as hell.

Reminiscing over things I never ever wanted

And today I'm reminiscent? It doesn't make sense. It was the most awkward weekend of my life.

I think it has something to do with being in a new place, with my vulnerability of a new place, of me falling in love with a new place and sometimes confusing that with a person. I considered living in his town. I did. Before I chose Chicago, I considered staying closer, closer as in his new town.

I don't want to live in his town. It's always the idea of it all. The kind of person I might be in those circumstances. How I could finally be The Best Version of Myself. I get heartsick over Somewhere Else, and am confusing There with Him.

With me still feeling like I failed Chicago, I gave up the life I had here, I left it to pursue something bigger, and The New Guy was part of that new adventure, was the reason I gave it all up here: I knew there was something else for me there. And now, now, here is the confirmation that it's just not gonna work, it's not meant to be.

Why am I taking it so personally? Not him, Chicago. I spent a weekend in his apartment just a few hours south of my hometown and all I can think is that I failed somehow, that Chicago is forever closed, that I'm reminiscing over something that never deserved that kind of attention. That life is what you make it and I need to stop making it crappy weekends with men who aren't quite right.

Embrace it, Heartless. Live the adventure of it all.

Still picking up the pieces

I keep looking for him on g-chat. I don't want to be with him, but today, today, I miss him. Today after spending a weekend with a man who couldn't connect with me, today after sleeping next to a man for a weekend and feeling like I was over that part, that relationship, but maybe I'm not, because this other man doesn't know a thing about me, I thought he did but of course he can't, he can't know me the way The Ex did.

We were out on Saturday night and I saw this thing that made me chuckle and think, The Ex would like that, so I e-mailed an image of it to The Ex while I was sitting with this man in his town feeling like he could never know me the way The Ex did, and then I wondered that maybe no one ever will.

To sound fatalistic.

I don't want to get back together with him. I don't feel that way. But the reason I stayed so long? He got me. I forget that until I am with another man who doesn't. I forgot that until now.

Maybe I am not an idiot, maybe I didn't waste all that time, maybe I will never be the same, maybe I was in something far more than love. Maybe I had a right to constantly sound trite. I don't know that I'd do it all over again. I don't know that I want to keep learning lessons either though, to keep having awkward weekends in strange cities, to keep evolving in this manner. It's always like this, life, isn't it? But with relationships, harder. Harder. Harder because it's merely my heart that's broken, my trust that's misplaced, my drunk texts that end up in inbox's they never should.

Goodnight

me: Goodnight

12:53 AM him: goodnight

12:55 AM i miss you when I sleep on tiny couches, you always seemed to fit

  ok,goodnight though really

12:56 AM me: I miss you for no reason at all. Just being a damn girl

  night

12:57 AM him: night

The reality of it all

It's like he liked the idea of me more than he ever liked me.

He told me to come Friday night instead of Saturday morning, meaning I would be visiting him from Friday night until Sunday morning, when I had to leave early for a family function back here in Smalltown. We went out for a drink Friday night, and this flamboyant gay man came up to us, to me, and said, You're hot. Not that it's a thing. Not that anyone feels threatened by a gay man hitting on your date. But why was there enough space between us for this other man to find a space?

I woke up in the middle of the night realizing I had drooled on his arm. Panicked. Panicked. But certainly couldn't move. Could only wonder the quietest safest quietest method of cleaning up the evidence. Just layed there, frozen. I couldn't sleep the rest of the night, for fear he might realize my ugly sleepy mistake, so just stared at his tall ceiling in his town not far from mine and thought of all the things on my to do list, instead of relishing his [slobbery] arms around me while he slept.

I like the idea of someone better than I like someone. I don't want anyone to see all my faults, all the ugly parts, all the places I fall short. All the ways I drool.

The Ex used to look at me with hero worship, like he'd never seen anything so beautiful, like somehow I made him different, until we fell in love, fell in hate, fell apart. That's how this man was looking at me this weekend until I opened my mouth. Like maybe I could just be a pretty companion, maybe he'd never had such a beautiful lunch date, but maybe I should do as a child and be seen but not heard. Not that he put me down. But that he wouldn't keep the conversation going, he would simply nod when I would say something, leave gaping holes where natural conversation should have been. Arranged it so that we never touched, we spent the day together but never brushed arms, never kissed. For a while I tried, but then thought, Who cares? and gave it up, resigned myself to the kind of weekend I had: fearful that I'm fucking it all up simply by talking and unable to crack him, to feel like I cannot know him in any way more than one dimension.

Torn

Yesterday The Ex said he had a question.

I waited.

He asked me to come see his latest show.

I balked.

Didn't say anything for a while.

I didn't want to go. I don't want to go. I don't want to see his work, I don't want to support him, I don't want to deal with his actor friends, pretend to be interested in theater when in fact I am not.

I, however, reluctantly agreed to go. Then started thinking it might be a good thing, I could doll myself up and remind him he left this, he chose to leave, too bad for him, and I would be doing a good deed while also looking attractive and vaguely bored.

Then The New Guy said, Are you sure you want to wait until Saturday morning to visit me? Why don't you come on Friday after work?

And then I was torn. Torn between these two men again. Torn somewhere between loyalty and my own self respect. I'm literally doing the same thing I did two years ago: I'm choosing between them. All over again.

So to remedy the situation, I lied.

I told The Ex I had to work last minute, that it was beyond my control.

Because what the hell do I owe him?

In it to win it

In the midst of me getting a major crush on this new bartender, I'm also going to visit The New Guy for the weekend.

It was all going so well until I dove headfirst back in, and now I'm in.

I did it again

I am that girl.

NOT. AGAIN.

I gave my number to the bartender.

!!

Whyyyy.

Okay. But really.

So.

He was into it.

He was?

I'm a stalker.

Okay, okay.

Okay.

I arrived fashionably late to dinner with girlfriends. I was the first to arrive, fashionably late. I felt dumb. Thankfully, the bartender called out my name when I walked in. The latest bartender I have a crush on. Of course. Isn't that his job, to remember my name?

We chatted for mere minutes before my posse arrived to make me look less like a stalker and more like a normal person, not one who has a crush on the bartender. Because who doesn't? How trite. He kept referring me to as his 'girlfriend' to my girlfriends, what with our brief history of meeting once before when he served me cocktails with me swooning like a schoolgirl. I wasn't sure if he was just socially inept or if he liked me. I never can tell with these men.

We stayed for a cocktail, moved to a table, ate, then moved back to the bar. I couldn't stop making googly eyes at him, catching his eye, him asking me questions whenever he got a free second, me learning about all the places he has lived, me requesting him to please please play The Smiths instead of whatever was on, him playing The Smiths shortly thereafter, him touching my hand for no reason at all. To pick up a glass. To emphasize a point.

Me wondering if I was drunk.

Me realizing I had to get my absolutely drunk friend out of there.

Me leaving my card on the bar and looking back, smiling, waving, apologizing for my lovely drunk friend. Giddy with the idea that maybe Cute Bartender would call me.

An hour later, a message: Thanks for the fancy card.

And it's on.

Circumstantial

I can't help but think that there might not be just one person, that it moves in circles, that what's the point in marriage because I'm just not sure I won't end up exactly where I was before.

The Doctor is moving back to Smalltown. The Doctor who I dated before he moved cross country, before I moved cross country, now I am back and he is coming back this summer, it's a while but not that long, not in the grand scheme of things, and all I can think is that it's all coming full circle, that history is repeating itself. That these men I dated before who were perfectly wonderful, who only didn't work because of damn circumstances, who might be a good fit for me but time will only tell, who might be all wrong for me, who I might grow to hate, who I might grow to love, who might change my mind, who might put me off men forever, who might make me fall in love again.

Maybe they won't. Maybe they will. Maybe I will meet a brand new person. Maybe I won't. Maybe it will all work itself out if I just let it. Maybe I am the master of my fate but maybe it's about timing, circumstances, and I need to not over think it. But where's the fun in that?

Casually long distance

How do you start re-dating someone you were never all that serious with, but now from afar? He lives two hours away from me, I live two hours away from him, he visited me twice in two weeks, I'm going to visit him in a few days, but how does this work? Usually long distance starts when you already feel pretty comfortable, right? We're literally still getting to know each other, unsure of what the other likes, not sure how to act, only having shared a few meals together. We text message. That is our main form of communication.

Not to say I'm not perfectly content with how it's gone thus far. Not to overanalyze it. Not to give it a name when maybe, right this second, it doesn't need a name. I just don't want to get in over my head, become concernedly attached to someone who doesn't live in the same city, stuck in the past because maybe he is Chicago to me too, I didn't choose him two years ago and maybe it was for a reason.

What can this really be? Does it have any chance? How can you get to know someone when you're also asking to borrow his toothpaste?

Too soon

The Ex recommended this thing at this restaurant that reminded him of me and all I could think was, Who the fuck were you with? Was she pretty? Is she taller than me? Are you in love?

Two can play at that game

So it really was just my imagination. I kept thinking things were starting with this guy, I thought we were re-starting, me and that guy from Chicago from years ago, what's his name, The New Guy turned The New Guy Round Two.

He visited me for the second time in mere weeks this past weekend, and it was all going according to plan, until now that he's gone and we're barely speaking. I'm trying to give him some space, I assume I'm overreacting, it's what I do, but I'm kind of taking it personally.

I don't feel like I have the upper hand here and so I will just sit, I will not initiate contact, I will do nothing. Last week was g-chats and texting and Facebooking and any form of media we could connect on, we were connecting.

Three days ago we were kissing, today, we're nothing.

And nothing isn't the end of the world, it's just one of those things, but it sure feels insulting. It sure feels like he finally got a good look and now he's over it. Two years, two states, two recent visits and now nothing?

Never to be heard from again

He messaged me tonight that he misses me.

And all I feel right now is that I'm still so mad about it all, I'm still living with generous friends, I'm still dealing with money problems caused by him, technical problems caused by him, emotional problems caused by him, feelings of hatred toward him caused by him.

Three months, two states, less and less communication, more of me forgetting, then me dredging it all back up, then me putting it neatly into a category: The Last Two Years Please Let's Not Speak of Them. Let's just not speak of them. Not yet. Because all I feel is that I hate him for existing.

Just my imagination

We started something but I'm not sure what.

Diaries of a call girl

If given the opportunity, would anyone cheat? Would everyone cheat? When it comes down to it, is it black and white at all?

This new job of my dreams, it's a job in sales, a job where I meet lots of different people over the course of the day and today, today, I talked to a man for a long time, mostly about his daughter, mostly about him buying something she would appreciate. And I started picking up on a weird vibe but I'm at work, I'm doing my job, I can't go run and hide if I maybe start to pick up on something. I need to start listening to my instincts, going with my gut.

The nuances of him talking about his wife and his daughter were all adding up to the bigger picture of him asking me what I'm doing later this evening.

I suddenly feel like I am some sort of call girl, this man can afford expensive things and he is on a work trip and sometimes expensive things include me.

Things left unsaid

The next man lives anywhere. I could meet him here just as easily as I could meet him in Chicago.

It's beginning to feel all too interchangeable.

I keep thinking about how things may be re-starting with this guy from years ago. I keep thinking how The Bartender texted me today Find me a job and I'll come back for you and sure, he's joking, but why would he say that? He texted me from the airport today, after I told him off on Tuesday, after apparently he decided to leave on an extended vacation, and it all feels interchangeable. An ebb and flow of feelings, of relationships, of men to sleep with. I don't have any new men. I'm scared to death of meeting someone here, of being tethered here for too long, I can't stay here for too long.

So I'm recycling these men and it doesn't feel right, how easy it is. It makes me worry that it's never a done deal, it's a constant fight, there are always going to be things left unsaid.

I'm so fucking dramatic.

Please please let me get what I want

It's becoming a thing. It went from not sure to he's coming to visit this weekend and it's a thing.

I'm not trying to overanalyze. But I need to be realistic.

We dated years ago, in Chicago. He moved cross country, near my hometown, last summer. He has a great job there, he loves his job. I got dumped. I got dumped and left Chicago because I couldn't bear to live there in that place without the man I loved most in the world. I came back to my hometown, and now we live in two separate states but only two hours apart. And we talk constantly. It's evolving and it doesn't scare me. The only reason we didn't work out was simply because things got serious with The Ex, a man I had known for years and knew I needed to give a shot.

I gave it a shot. We saw how that turned out.

So now here I am, back to the beginning with this man from years ago, and I wonder if he will hold that against me, the not choosing him. If I had just chosen him two years ago, where would I be right now? That thought hasn't escaped me.

If this keeps going like it is, how will it work? [Semi] long distance is probably best for me right now, what with my history of throwing every bit of myself into a codependent relationship. But would he always feel like I didn't choose him two years ago, would he hold that against me? Would I become a jealous nutcase like I did with The Ex? Was it just The Ex or do I need more time to feel better about myself?

Is it all too soon? It's only been three months, three months of me figuring things out, of feeling okay again, of learning to live. I need to give it the proper credit, mourn it all long enough, I do not want to rush into something new with baggage, with hang ups, with things that are all too fresh. I don't want to ruin a good thing simply because I rushed into it.

The things we said

Me: I think I just wanted to say hi.

Him: You read my mind.

Me: What a nice thing to say.

...

Me: I should stop saying hi.

Him: No, you shouldn't.

Fucked up

I went from worried sick to over it.

The Bartender and I planned to hang out on Monday night, Monday night came, I didn't hear from him. I made other plans. Until. Until he told me he got fired. The raging alcoholic got fired from his longtime bartending job. What will he do?

I felt terrible.

I said what you say when someone you cares about loses his job.

Then I texted him the next day, checking in.

Truthfully, dear fictitious readers, I want my damn paints. I got offered a painting a job and I need my paints. Fine. Fine, I want to open Pandora's box of The Bartender, The Raging Alcoholic, but mostly, also, by the way, I want my damn paints! 

I texted him at six at night and said, "What are you doing?" and he said, "I'm ducked up," which I'm assuming he was just too fucked up to realize that what he meant was fucked up.

And then I got so mad. So mad that he is doing this. So mad that he will kill himself soon. So mad that he can't stop being sick. So mad that over two years later and he still wouldn't choose me over his addictions.

I told him not to ruin his life. That I would know. That I could reliably say that it's not worth ruining, that he is someone special. And that I didn't want to talk to him until he wasn't so fucked up. 

I'm back

I am doing the thing again that I do. The fighting on the phone with The Ex about money he still owes me this morning, then obsessing to my friend about the boy from this past weekend, g-chatting with that other guy who I used to date who might be in the running again, making plans to see The Bartender later tonight.

I'm back.

The possibilities are endless

I think I like the possibility of someone in my life more than I like this imaginary person.

I'm structured.

I like things a certain way.

I like feeling giddy over someone. I do not like fighting about money. I do not like fighting about everything. Anything.

I like the dream of it all.

The idea that someone finds me interesting and attractive and something special.

I don't know that the reality is really what I want though.

Boyfriend kisser

Vodka makes me kiss men back when I know they have girlfriends.

I'm that girl again?

I'm not that girl.

He started it.

This guy I know. The one from the Christmas party whose girlfriend I met and thought was lovely and I saw him the other night, and I thought, Did they break up? because he kissed me. He kissed me.

I am appalled by my behavior right now. Obviously. Obviously? I'm fighting those demons, that girl from long ago, that one who did this sort of thing every other day. Kissing doesn't kill. Kissing a taken man causes unnecessary drama and hurt.

It's all really fuzzy though. I drank too much. He had a girlfriend last I saw him. He kissed me.

He still has that girlfriend. I confirmed it after the fact.

I think this makes me a terrible person, a terrible person walking down the street next to you mere mortals, a terrible person standing in front of you at the coffee shop, a terrible person looking you in the eye right before she let's your boyfriend kiss her.

Hey yourself

I sent The Bartender a message. It went something like this:

Hey.

And he responded:

Hey beautiful.

What's mine is yours

Well he started it and it was nice to think for a moment that I was his.

Even if I had no intention of being his.

What dreams may come

I just woke up from a dream where we were lying in the grass outside our apartment in Chicago, kissing.