Music
Time here has been defined by music, imported, stolen, everpresent as I stumble through the days.
Last week he said things I had never heard before. I wanted to believe him, to say it was okay, that he had done enough and somehow I had changed my mind. More for myself than for him, for what I wished he could be. But dressed up like whores, we had thrown the party and it was time to go home, and all I wanted was to capture my crush and disappear. And cornered, I just told him to go home. His words tumbled over me and all I could think was why, if indeed they were true, he had spent the evening pulling another girl. "I keep coming back to you, you're different somehow." I know, I know I am. Nobody sees it, and that's the only thing that really melts my heart for you, that one thing, that you see it somehow. If only you could hold that thought after a few drinks, after you lose your mind, after the late-night phone calls and inappropriate actions, after the cruel words you try to excuse away. I see it, the attempts at making me jealous, I know what you are doing. Why can't you understand that I would have you if you showed me you could just be good to me?
And so I ended, and he finally went home, and we both felt empty about it. And gone were the calls for drinks, for time, for one more chance. I had severed it, and now he was angry. And I knew he wasn't someone to anger. I hadn't done anything but look out for myself, and had been so good to him in the meantime, and all I got was anger back.
The week sped, and Wednesday I drank too much. We arrived after already having a few, DPG escorting me towards an answer with the Crush. As expected, the door was slammed in my face. And it stung, not because I was upset, although the crushing rejection is always upsetting to a degree, but mostly because I was so confused. First of all we sparked. Really sparked. I don't fabricate this, we totally spark. And seriously, does he know who I am? Frankly I would rather have this conceit than the pain of rejection. I am so pleased to have grown past the childish belief that it is somehow me that he is rejecting. He doesn't know me at all, and so he is rejecting some idea of me. That's fine really, its his loss. I believed this, and felt big inside.
Back to a weekend, and as the saying goes, when a door is closed a window opens. My windows opened as DPG and I got inadvertently drunk after a lovely dinner on Friday night. The strangest set of friends in the world, one is so friendly, the other reminds me immensely of Luke, right down to the scowl, the cigarettes and the unmistakable 'bad boy' sex appeal. Its the former who appeals more now, despite my being drawn to his friend. But alas, nothing has come of that.
Then there's Gravity. We've visited him before. And generally I don't go in for these sorts of things, but somehow we keep running into each other at inopportune moments. On Wednesday he was gone by the time my rejection came through the pipeline, and it was to surprise and slight smiles that he appeared beside me on Friday night. And yes we let him take advantage of our State by kissing... to be honest kissing DPG is often the highlight of my evening. And we excused ourselves one more time, and coming out he was standing there. Leaving. And kissed me. Hmmm, the window is more open than I thought.
And Saturday night was true Gong Show styles, like our previous trip to that college, and all my shadows seemed to be there, haunting the evening. DPG noted that it wasn't an option to lose control of ourselves, because everything else was so insane that our own sanity was keeping it all together. And I let him kiss me when I shouldn't have, knowing that I didn't reciprocate his feelings, but falling into a moment of weakness. But managed to avoid the hauntings all night, only to come home to further textual abuse on my mobile. I decided to deal with it, drunkenly slurring down the phone about abuse and inappropriate behaviour and not letting things go. He thought I meant us getting back together, when really I just meant acting in a civil and mature fashion. Confused, I ended the phone call. Have since resolved to ignore him.
Now? Now I feel a dick. Feel I am leading on a lovely man, that I am unsure about another and contemplating visiting a third in London this weekend. Ah well, c'est la vie around here, and this week should prove just as interesting. Thanks for your patience, I'm hoping this means the Blog is Back.
Last week he said things I had never heard before. I wanted to believe him, to say it was okay, that he had done enough and somehow I had changed my mind. More for myself than for him, for what I wished he could be. But dressed up like whores, we had thrown the party and it was time to go home, and all I wanted was to capture my crush and disappear. And cornered, I just told him to go home. His words tumbled over me and all I could think was why, if indeed they were true, he had spent the evening pulling another girl. "I keep coming back to you, you're different somehow." I know, I know I am. Nobody sees it, and that's the only thing that really melts my heart for you, that one thing, that you see it somehow. If only you could hold that thought after a few drinks, after you lose your mind, after the late-night phone calls and inappropriate actions, after the cruel words you try to excuse away. I see it, the attempts at making me jealous, I know what you are doing. Why can't you understand that I would have you if you showed me you could just be good to me?
And so I ended, and he finally went home, and we both felt empty about it. And gone were the calls for drinks, for time, for one more chance. I had severed it, and now he was angry. And I knew he wasn't someone to anger. I hadn't done anything but look out for myself, and had been so good to him in the meantime, and all I got was anger back.
The week sped, and Wednesday I drank too much. We arrived after already having a few, DPG escorting me towards an answer with the Crush. As expected, the door was slammed in my face. And it stung, not because I was upset, although the crushing rejection is always upsetting to a degree, but mostly because I was so confused. First of all we sparked. Really sparked. I don't fabricate this, we totally spark. And seriously, does he know who I am? Frankly I would rather have this conceit than the pain of rejection. I am so pleased to have grown past the childish belief that it is somehow me that he is rejecting. He doesn't know me at all, and so he is rejecting some idea of me. That's fine really, its his loss. I believed this, and felt big inside.
Back to a weekend, and as the saying goes, when a door is closed a window opens. My windows opened as DPG and I got inadvertently drunk after a lovely dinner on Friday night. The strangest set of friends in the world, one is so friendly, the other reminds me immensely of Luke, right down to the scowl, the cigarettes and the unmistakable 'bad boy' sex appeal. Its the former who appeals more now, despite my being drawn to his friend. But alas, nothing has come of that.
Then there's Gravity. We've visited him before. And generally I don't go in for these sorts of things, but somehow we keep running into each other at inopportune moments. On Wednesday he was gone by the time my rejection came through the pipeline, and it was to surprise and slight smiles that he appeared beside me on Friday night. And yes we let him take advantage of our State by kissing... to be honest kissing DPG is often the highlight of my evening. And we excused ourselves one more time, and coming out he was standing there. Leaving. And kissed me. Hmmm, the window is more open than I thought.
And Saturday night was true Gong Show styles, like our previous trip to that college, and all my shadows seemed to be there, haunting the evening. DPG noted that it wasn't an option to lose control of ourselves, because everything else was so insane that our own sanity was keeping it all together. And I let him kiss me when I shouldn't have, knowing that I didn't reciprocate his feelings, but falling into a moment of weakness. But managed to avoid the hauntings all night, only to come home to further textual abuse on my mobile. I decided to deal with it, drunkenly slurring down the phone about abuse and inappropriate behaviour and not letting things go. He thought I meant us getting back together, when really I just meant acting in a civil and mature fashion. Confused, I ended the phone call. Have since resolved to ignore him.
Now? Now I feel a dick. Feel I am leading on a lovely man, that I am unsure about another and contemplating visiting a third in London this weekend. Ah well, c'est la vie around here, and this week should prove just as interesting. Thanks for your patience, I'm hoping this means the Blog is Back.
posted by Care | 7:13 PM
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