was

i'm miserable today.

i don't want to think about the next boy, but i can't stop.

he texts "you can stop by tonight if you'd like"

i text "i think i'll skip tonight, but thanks."

i figure i need space, and time. i need to slow it all down. i need to take five hundred steps back and get my head on straight and stop from jumping into bed again, and then feeling like shit because i'm sleeping with a homophobic, again.

at 5pm i was done with work.
i've spent the entire day- even during bowling, macaroni and cheese, pool on an unsteady table and random conversations that amuse only 4 year olds- thinking of him. it waivers between 5 thoughts, of which some are fluid and seperated here only to preserve my sanity:

1) he asking me how my mom and sister fared my father's death. it lead me to talk about my father himself, and my recent grief and mourning that has restarted. the next boy asks if we can put a hold on the conversation until tomorrow night, he's ready to fall asleep. i'm crushed. finally someone who might understand the different grief i'm going through AND wants to talk about it, and he's shutting me off, because he's tired. with no warning. i can't get over how rude i feel it is. i think, "i should have gotten out of the bed and left. i would feel better now if i had."

2) everything he's ever said that is rude, off-color, sexist, racist, homophobic and just vulgar. he meant them all (mostly) as jokes, but still. the way he laughs at them... it feels like there is truth there. coupled with that is the very loud, out of place laughing that caused everyone in the restaurant to look at us, and not in a good way.

3) me, going over to his house. he opens the door. before he can say a thing i kiss him and don't let him speak. i take his hand, walk into the bedroom and undress him. i undress myself and lead him into bed. "no words," i say, "just sex." i figure i might as well feel as good as i can in that moment, since, no matter what, i'm going to feel like crap afterwards. at least this way i get a fuck out of it.

4) the sweet moments, lying, wrapped in each other, face to face, talking about everything and nothing. touching noses, eyebrows, memorizing every line on his face.

5) everything i want to talk to him about: we should part ways, we should slow down, we should not sleep together for awhile, the guilt i feel about the decision i made, the inappropriateness of his persistence when he knew i didn't want to do what we did, the fact that i'm wary to trust him because he's not fully honest with me, the fact that the bank account is in debt and soon fees will start being charged on the money that is owed.

i feel so dumb for wasting so much time on him.

i decide to watch a movie.
no, read a book.
no, take a nap.
no, go for a swim.

i land on a nap, and crawl into bed, where everything feels safe and secure.
i flip over and pick up Lemony Snicket's Book the Eleventh.
but then i see a book that the getting-married friends loaned me. "Blankets." it's supposedly about stories, faith and relationships.
i look at the clock. i've got the three hours they assured me it would take, since i wouldn't put it down, it was that good.

2 hours later i was finished. i had cried, laughed, gasped, smiled and prayed. i had not put it down once.

i decided i did need tonight to myself. if i could make it throught the night without speaking to him, it would be good. painful, but making me stronger, in some way.

i put in a movie. i think, i should call the next boy and see if he wants to come over and watch it.

i have to take the phone out of my own hand.
i make popcorn.
i start the movie.

he calls exactly 15:37 into the movie.

"whatcha doin' ?"
"watching a movie and eating popcorn."
((i've decided i need to shorten my answers to his questions. he seems to get annoyed by my long rant-y answers to everything. it'll be hard, but, i don't know why i feel i should do it. i just am.))
"hmm. well, i was going to ask if you wanted to do something, or maybe you're just having a quiet night at home."
the perfect out. but no, i'm dumb.
"well, if you wanted to, i could stop the movie and re-start it if you wanted to come over and watch it."
"yea, that sounds good, i'll grab some food and come over."
there is a discussion about eating this late. he left work late, had to take someone home etc...
"ok, so grab what you want," i say, "and i'll see you in 30 minutes."

i've decided to leave on exactly what i'm wearing. a tank top with pajama bottoms and no underwear. i haven't showered yet today. i do brush my teeth. i start laundry. i blog this.

that WAS my plan, a quiet night at home.
why i asked him over, i don't know.

am i so scared to be alone that i will decide on something that has reprecussions towards decisions i haven't/can't make yet?

the tingle of excitement i usually get is absent. the lead weight in my stomach is back.

i WAS alright, before he came into my life.

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quotes

"... we are going to go on slowly, quietly, hand in hand, the three of us, never giving up."
-carl sandburg

"... you are taking your place in the pattern of our time, which exists whether we like it or not."
-ansel adams



--

still

that went well.

just when i'm starting to feel better about what went down with the next boy, all of it falls to shit again.

he calls tonight, which is lovely. we talk about lots of things; our day's, the European Union, tiramisu, atheism.

we land on the United Church of Christ and their recent ordination of a post-op FTM transgender person (post operative female to male gender re-assignment).
he starts in on how he doesn't know about all that "gender bending stuff." i explain, perhaps forcefully, that transgender is not gender bending. i talk about gender bending vs. cross dressing vs. transsexual vs. transgender.
i talk about the differences, and how calling it all gender bending is rude and disrespectful.

all is quiet on his end. he asks what time it is. 11:30 i say.
it's time for bed he says.
i ask him if he is uncomfortable with the subject.
he steps around the issue again; time for bed, he says.
i ask again, several times, because now i know it does bother him, i just don't know how much.
he stumbles and finally admits he is uncomfortable.

you can call me tomorrow night if you want, he says.

not, "i'll call you tomorrow," or "what are you doing tomorrow?" or "should we do something tomorrow," which is the typical end of night question.

you can call me tomorrow night if you want, he says.

and now, of course, i feel terrible, again. because now i feel like it's going to end for sure.
and i'll have given it away. and it won't have meant anything.

again.

still.

--

again

slept over at the next boy's last night. no sex, but other things.
feeling guilty, again, just like old times.

it was weird in the morning, because he had to go to work, and i wanted to stay and cuddle, since i'm big on that, and that's how i feel cared for and stuff, but he was all business, and now i'm regretting a little, because what if, again, it was nothing to him, and here, i've given it up again, and it was something to me, something important.
damn my hormones, again.

and it's been less than two weeks since we've been "dating/seeing each other/whatever you want to name it."
we haven't even defined it... that's how much we are still in the beginning.
i was going to wait a whole month before any Mexican action happened. and definately wait for the title of girlfriend.
i'm so slutty.

i feel how i used to feel when i was dating and sleeping with people a lot. sort of empty, used, sad.
i told myself i never wanted to feel that way again, and that i would make smart choices from now on.
lot of good that did.

i suppose you can't break old habits. but with the old habits comes the old feelings, and i don't want those anymore.

again the ring has moved from it's place of honor, on the ring finger, to the thumb.

i'm sure, by the end of the day, i won't even be wearing it.
again.

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