So Close

I have been revising my thesis since 10AM. I have four more days before I have to turn it in. I feel like I could turn it in how it is now if I had to. That is always a good point to get to with papers.

I got an interesting job-related email yesterday. A place that I worked from the summer between my jr and sr years of college may be adding a full-time position that my former supervisor basically told me she would hire me for. It is the kind of work I have been applying for, and a better job than I will able to get anywhere else with my current education/level of experience. It is usually a job reserved for people with PhD's. It would be a fantastic thing to have on my resume. There is a big "if," in that the job may not be created at all. My supervisor is trying to get her bosses to let her add it. The only major downside of the job is the fact that I would have to move back to the rural, middle-of-nowhere town where I went to college. It would be so strange to be back there. My best friend from college, R, is still there and will be for the next two years (law school), but I will definitely be there longer than two years if I get this job. There wouldn't be many people my age around to socialize with, and I would have to get used to spending A LOT of time alone. Maybe I could get a cat... But, in any case, I would not turn down this job just because I don't want to live in the town. I would enjoy the job, and it would open a lot of doors to me professionally. We will see what happens.

Coincidentally, R sent me a Facebook message last night apologizing that she hadn't returned my calls (which I made weeks, maybe months, ago), and saying that she has just been very busy with her summer internship and will call me this weekend. I was so glad to hear from her. I was starting to feel rather depressed that she hadn't been in touch with me. I miss her often, and I was starting to feel like I didn't matter to her at all.

I guess sometimes I am insecure in my friendships too. I have a hard time keeping in touch with people, even though I try, and I sometimes feel... rejected, I guess... by friends because of that. My Dad has had the same best friend his whole life (literally), and I am sometimes jealous of that. Last night, almost like he could sense that I was thinking about stuff like this, HE asked (kind of jokingly after hearing someone use the term on TV), "Who is your 'BFF'?" I thought about it, and realized that I have never really had one. I can't seem to get the "forever" part down. Maybe most people have the same problem. I feel like I am the only person I know who is constantly having to leave old friends behind and forge new friendships. It is probably because I have moved so much (completely different states--hell, completely different regions of the county--for high school, undergrad, and grad school). I really am starting to feel like long-distance friendships are as hard (if not harder) to maintain than long-distance relationships. Maybe that is why I am so anxious to be settled somewhere permanently. I am just tired of starting over.

I guess I can't do much now but wait and finish revising. Who knows where I will end up next.

The Story of S (cont)

A little aside is in order before I start--yes, everything is fine today. He and I resolved the fight as usual. I think we will be fight-free for at least a little while now. And the cycle continues.
______

S and I were spending a lot of our time outside of school together. Like I mentioned before, he went to a regional tech school, so I saw him in evenings and weekends. The fact that he lived up the street made up for the fact that we went to different schools.

Once I got my license, things got even easier. Things also got more complicated. See, at this point, I was still a virgin, and not incredibly eager to... not be. S was not a virgin, and did not enjoy behaving like one. He was lobbying hard to take it further than I wanted to.

Once I started sharing my brother's car with him (thank goodness we get along), S and I got into the habit of driving to a new development behind his house (it was in the early stages of building and no one lived there yet) just for some privacy. Well, ok, we wanted to make out without his mother walking in on us. That is why I was there anyways. I figured out pretty quickly that he had his own reasons.

I don't really know how to explain what happened, because I am still a little unsure myself. All I know, is that we ended up doing things I remember telling him I didn't want to do. I remember telling him to stop, which he did (about the third time I said it). I remember dropping him off and driving home and feeling filthy, guilty, shaken. I remember feeling like now that I was broken, I had to make the relationship with S work.

Since the damage had already been done, and I didn't want to think about what had happened, I started having sex with S on a regular basis immediately. He apologized for the night in the car, and I accepted his apology because it helped me erase what had happened.

It wasn't long before my parents found out. My Dad claimed that he had been looking for my medical insurance card in my purse, and had found a condom wrapper in there. At first they were calm. My Mom said that she was going to bring me to the doctor to get me checked out and put me on the pill. It was uncomfortable, but at least they were handling it okay.

The next day, they were like different people. They spent about three hours yelling at me about how I was too young to be having sex. Asking me what they had done wrong raising me. Forbidding me to see S anymore. My Mom said that she wouldn't take me to the doctor, because it would only encourage me to continue doing it. She told me that I needed to stop. It was pretty much the worst three hours that I can ever remember having--and definitely the last time that I ever spoke to my parents about sex. How could I tell them that I hadn't really wanted to do it? How could I explain any of that to them? So I didn't. I just cried. Then I went upstairs and cried on my floor until I fell asleep. Things were tense in the house for weeks after that. My brother had left for college and it was me alone against them. My Mom would ask me about once a week after that if I was "abstaining from sex." I would say "yes," because it was what she wanted to hear. They never took me to the doctor.

I still saw S, even though they forbade it. I would drive up to his house before driving to school in the morning, telling my parents that I had to get to school early for one reason or another. After a couple of weeks, my parents realized that telling me not to see S was not going to stop me from seeing him. They relented, and things more or less went back to normal.

S had a nasty side. I saw it come out that one night in the car, but it got worse as the newness of our relationship wore off. S was insanely jealous, and hated that I had male friends. S would get spitting mad at me when I wore an outfit that he thought was too tight, or too short, or anything that drew any sort of male attention. If I had been older, I would have known that these were all warning signs of an abusive relationship. At the time, I knew that they weren't good things, but I didn't know that things could get worse.

The worst thing was how aggressive S would get sexually. I don't even know how to write about this without just being blunt. He used to force me to have anal sex with him, even while I was crying and clearly in pain.

I started to become isolated from my friends. S monopolized my time. He would get jealous or mad if he didn't know where I was and who I was with. I had to stop hanging out with my male friends outside of school, because S threatened to go vandalize their houses or fight with them.

Obviously, leaving S crossed my mind, but I was afraid to do that. He would make offhand comments about how he would kill himself if I ever left him. I didn't feel like I could talk to my parents about the problem--after our little sex talk--and I didn't want my friends to know that anything was wrong. So, I stayed with him.

Those weren't the only offhand comments he would make either. He would "joke" that maybe he would get me pregnant so that I would never be able to leave him. I tried to brush the comments off as jokes, but was constantly worried about that.

Soon, his family decided to move an hour and a half away, to the place his parents had grown up. S had graduated high school, an his younger brother was just starting high school, so it seemed like the perfect time for them to buy their dream house where they had always wanted to live. The move didn't break S and I up. By that point, he had finally gotten his license, and the car was all mine with my brother at college. My parents almost seemed to have given up trying to do anything about my relationship with S. I could tell they didn't like it, but we had been together for over a year, and they knew that they couldn't do much about it. After S and his family moved, I would see S every weekend--alternating between him coming and spending the weekend at my house, and me going and spending the weekend at his.

S tried to go to community college, but didn't last long. He got a job at a hardware store, which he was pretty miserable with. His mood got worse.

With S so far away, I was more free to finally hang out with my male friends again--or so I thought. I had one male friend who I would drive home from school. One day, when I got home from dropping him off, S was waiting in my driveway. He had skipped work that day, come and waited outside of my school to check up on me and followed me home. He was so angry that I had driven my friend home, that he locked himself in his car, took out a razor blade, and started cutting his arm yelling, "look at what you're making me do." My parents weren't home at the time.

Eventually, the distance emboldened me to actually break up with S. I ended it. He was angry. He claimed that he took a bunch of pills that night but threw them up before anything happened. I tried not to let his words get to me.

I started hanging out with D, who was a great support during that time. S would occasionally show up at the pool hall, or wherever I was with D, and try to start a fight. I kept telling S that it was over and he needed to leave me alone.

One day, I came home to find my bedroom destroyed. My stuff was everywhere. I realized my diary was missing. S had our garage door code, and I immediately figured out that he had driven down, let himself in, and gone looking for my diary. A few days later, he turned up and returned it. That was the last time I ever saw him.

I was always afraid that he would turn up again. Freshman year of college, he emailed me to tell me that he was in the Army. He said that he had gone to my high school graduation and knew where I went to college and wanted to stop by on his way to training. I wrote back and told him that I didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. That was the last I heard of him until the incident with Facebook this year.

I learned a lot about red flags from my relationship with S. I often wonder how what happened during that relationship affected how I deal with men. I don't know if it does. I don't really know what to take away from it except--thank goodness that is over and I came out of it in one piece.

Now I've Done It

The "no fighting" streak ended last night. Ugh.

For starters, I was still a little miffed about the night before (him being unable to do anything for me unless he gets something in return). Miffed is probably the wrong word. It was more that it was still on my mind, and I was still feeling like he thinks everything is about him.

Around 4:30, I was just breaking from my thesis work, when he called and asked if I could meet him downstairs in five minutes with something from his room that he had to take to the post office to mail. I said okay, and decided that I would go with him, because I really needed to get some food (the post office is in the basement of the grocery store). He said he would meet me upstairs when he was done in the post office. I shopped, he came up and shopped with me, he told me he should probably eat dinner by himself since he had a lot of thesis work to do--everything was fine. I had to get one more thing from the next aisle over, and he looked massively irritated by that fact for some reason. I said, "What? You look annoyed. I am just getting on more thing. You can just take your stuff and pay if you can't wait." He said, "Okay. I'm sorry, I just have to get home and start working." He went to the registers, I went and grabbed my last thing--and the funny thing was, I actually got out of the grocery store before him. That was only mildly irritating. I was annoyed that he couldn't wait thirty seconds for me to grab ONE MORE THING, but it wasn't that big of a deal, and I wasn't going to start anything over it.

When we got back, he went to his apartment to work, and I came to mine to read/relax. He came in a few times to take breaks, but I honestly had no interest in asking him how his work was going or anything. I just couldn't stand the thought of having another conversation about HIM. I know he could tell something was wrong, but I really had no interest in talking. I stayed away from his apartment until about 9:30, when I felt my mood softening a bit. I didn't feel like having another fight, so it was best to wait until I was feeling better.

I went over and asked how he was doing, stayed for a few minutes while he took a break, and came home. He said that he would come over later when he was done working. I saw him a couple more times over the course of the night. By 1:30, he was still not at my apartment, so I went over to see what he was up to. He told me that he was just about done and would be over soon. At about 2, he came over to tell me that he would be right back after he cooked some food. I told him to just cook it at my apartment. He said okay, and went to his apartment to get the food. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was looking at the clock and it was 3AM, and he was still not in my apartment. That is a long time to be gone getting food. I went over to his apartment to see what had happened to him.

I found him sitting at his computer. I asked what he was doing, and he said that he was deleting things he didn't need off of a flash drive. I left, and he came over to my apartment with his food. I started to talk to him about how late he was when he came in, and he immediately turned around and went back to his apartment. A few seconds later, I could feel my blood boiling, and went to his apartment too. He was literally waiting for me at the door (I guess I've become predictable). The conversation went something like this:

ME: I thought you were just going to get your food and come right back.
HIM: Well I found more work I had to do.
ME: Deleting things from your flash drive?
HIM: No, I just stopped working and moved on to this.
ME: I wish you had told me you were going to go back to working, I thought you were coming right back when you left to get food.
HIM: Well, I assumed you were sleeping, so I didn't think it mattered.
ME: I just hate it when you say one thing and do another.
HIM: I told you that I had to work a lot Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.
ME: I know, but an hour ago, you told me that you would "be right back" and then just disappeared.
HIM: Well, I'm sorry, but I just found more work to do.
ME: Why do you say "sorry" like that? It is clear you don't mean it when you use that tone. Can't you just say "sorry," instead of "sorry, but"? Can't you ever just be sorry?
HIM: Fine, I'm sorry. But I really didn't do anything wrong. I told you that I was going to be working late today.
ME: Yes, and I understood that. But I am more concerned with what you said an hour ago. If you had had to work all morning, I would have understood. You could have just come back over and said, "I found more work I have to do. I'll see you tomorrow."
HIM: And you would have reacted just like this.
ME: No, I wouldn't have. I just wanted you to have the common courtesy to tell me that I shouldn't sit around waiting for you.
HIM: Well, I didn't want to break from my work.
ME: It would have taken you thirty seconds. You could have even called on your cell phone.
HIM: Fine, from now one, I will NEVER tell you anything that sounds definite.
ME: Oh come on, it is not like I was asking you to stop working, I just would have liked to have known that you weren't actually coming right back. And, you know what? I should have expected that you wouldn't have bothered to do that, because everything is ALL ABOUT YOU.
HIM: Oh, here we go again. Yes, I am a selfish bastard.
ME: Yes, you are. Last night you couldn't even give me a back rub, the ONE TIME that I actually asked you for one, without asking for one in return.
HIM: Listen, I am going to make food, and put on some Arrested Development. You can sit down here and relax if you want, and I will rub you. Are you going to sit?
ME: No.
HIM: Fine, then it is time for you to go home.
ME: I just wish you could take me into consideration every once in awhile when you are doing things, because I always take you into consideration. I do a lot for you. What do you do for me? I am not asking for a lot here. I just wanted you to have the courtesy to come over and tell me that your plans changed. It would have taken thirty seconds.
HIM: Fine. You're right. I don't do anything for you. I will see you tomorrow.
ME: Don't bother. Prick.

That was the gist of it. Not good, huh? One problem was that my blood was already boiling by the time I got there. Another problem was, I had been bottling up a few things that I may have been better off letting out earlier, when I was calmer. The third problem? I still haven't learned not to expect anything from him. Okay, I know I overreacted--a lot. But still, could he think about someone other than himself JUST ONCE? It was more the "straw that broke the camel's back" than anything else. I know that I should apologize for overreacting. But a big part of me is sick of being the one who always bends first. I think I had a right to be irritated last night, but I definitely blew things out of proportion when I got downright angry.

I think I will just shower and get to work.

The Story of S

After A and I broke up (8th grade style), I had a brief summer "romance" with the brother of a girl I played softball with. He was cute and fun, but immature (even for a 15 year old), so when the summer was over, so was our little fling.

I spent the beginning of 9th grade having fun with my friends, going to class, playing sports--the regular things. My good friend, O, had just gotten her first job--working at a pharmacy in the next town over. My sports schedule was so heavy, that I did not yet have time for a job, but even the fact that O had one made me feel pretty grown up. I went to visit her occasionally while she was working. Soon after she started working there, she started dating a coworker. After a few months, they were still dating, and since he wasn't from our town, her relationship with him opened up a whole new social network to our group of friends.

One day, when I went in to visit O, her boyfriend's friend was there visiting him. His friend, J, was pretty cute and I definitely took notice. He had apparently noticed me too, because later that night O called me and said that J had asked for my number. She wanted to know if she should give it to him. I told her to go ahead, and he called me a couple days later. We made plans to hang out the next weekend. We didn't plan anything specific--just that he would pick me up on Saturday afternoon (he was 17 and had a car). I was pretty excited. It was my first time actually being picked up by a guy in his own car. I felt so mature.

The day finally came, and he showed up as planned. He came to the door and I headed out with him. As we were walking to his car, I noticed that there was someone else sitting in his backseat. He noticed me looking, and seeming a little embarrassed, quickly explained: "That is my friend. He just broke up with his girlfriend and didn't feel like being alone. Is it okay if he comes along?" I was a little put-off by the change in plans, but what could I say? The poor guy had just had his heart broken. I tried hard to give J a sincere smile and told him that it wasn't a problem.

In the car, I found out a little about J's friend, S. Mainly that he was also 17, had actually gone to my high school for 7th and 8th grade before going to a regional tech school (he had been in the grade above me, even though he was two years older, but we were only in the same building for a year and didn't remember ever running into each other), and that he actually lived about a 10 minute walk from my house.

The three of us headed off to the mall (what else is a group of teenagers with no money supposed to do?) and spent most of the time in the music store, where J and S bickered about bands. J was pretty hyperactive all day--he had trouble sitting still and carrying on a conversation (I later found out that he had ADHD and never took his medication), so I ended up talking to S most of the time.

When J dropped S off that afternoon, S yelled back to the car that he would swing by my house and say "hi" sometime. I figured he never would, but I said "okay," and then J drove me home. J and I didn't kiss or anything. I was definitely not feeling sparks between us.

The next day, my grandparents drove to my house to have lunch with my family. We had just sat down to lunch when the doorbell rang. To my surprise, S was at the door with a friend. I recognized S's friend as someone who was in my grade, but who I never had classes with. S said that they were bored and decided to stop by. I talked with them for a couple minutes, but told them that my grandparents were visiting and I had to go back in. S said that he would come by another time.

I didn't realize that by "another time" he meant that night. At about 9PM I heard a knock on the front door. My parents had gone upstairs to watch TV in bed (as they always did), and my brother was in his room reading. I went to the door and saw S standing there. I was pretty surprised to see him. I let him in and yelled up to my parents that S, the guy who stopped by earlier, was there. My Mom yelled down, "ok," and S and I went and sat in the living room.

We talked for awhile before he got around to telling me the point of his visit. He had apparently asked J if it was okay for him to pursue me, and J had given him the green light (later, J stopped talking to him because S "pursued me"--leaving me to wonder if anything S had lied when he said that J was okay with it). I was a bit surprised, but S and I had had good conversation all the day before, and I was definitely more interested in him than J. I did not expect him to kiss me that night, but he did. We talked for a few more minutes, but it was getting a little late, and I told him that he should probably head home. He left, promising to call me the next day.

When the door closed, I heard my Mom yell down, "What was that? Was someone here?" I went upstairs and told her yes, that S just left, and didn't she remember me yelling up that he was there? She and my Dad got MAD. Apparently, my Mom had not heard me say that at all. I still to this day cannot figure out why she yelled down "okay" if she didn't hear me, but there was obviously a miscommunication somewhere along the way. So they got pissed, and told me that I could not see S for awhile because they didn't know him or trust him (they thought we had been sneaking around). This, of course, only increased my desire to see him. We talked on the phone over the next week, until my parents finally relented and decided to give him a chance.

My Mom and Dad were pretty leery of S from the beginning. I guess they knew better than me. I thought S was great. Sure, he was a little immature. Sure, he made gross jokes, watched terrible movies, and listened to music that just sounded like yelling to me--but he seemed like a little bit of a "bad boy," and my slightly rebellious 15-year-old self liked that. We started spending a lot of time together, often at his house or mine (even though he was old enough, he had never gotten his license). My parents seemed to warm up to him a little bit, with all of the time they spent around him, which definitely made my life easier.


I need to continue later. I don't think I have the energy left for the rest of the story. So, TO BE CONTINUED.

Hot Hot Hot

I can't handle this apartment. It is like an oven.

I took yesterday off. I didn't really have a choice. I could barely think straight enough to read a novel, so thesis work didn't really seem like an option. I am much more well rested today.

My Mom got some sad news yesterday. Her best friend from high school's husband was killed in a motorcycle accident on Friday. I think I only met him once or twice (they live in California, so we only see them occasionally--my Mom's friend and her kids stayed with us once for a whole summer when I was about 8, which was fun because her daughter was about my age, but I don't think I've seen the kids since then. I have seen my Mom's friend more often than that--but I digress). I feel awful for all of them. The cops are still sorting out what happened--apparently there was a tractor-trailer involved, and they think another vehicle that left the scene. My Mom called her friend when she heard, and she is apparently still numb, but anxious for all of her family and friends to leave her house so she can be alone. Understandable.

That sent my Mom on a "we need to appreciate life" kick--which I agree with. Her version of appreciating life? Moving forward with her formerly tentative plans to buy tickets for a cruise for her, my dad, my brother, his boyfriend, me, and a guest of my choice. It will probably be sometime next year. I wonder who the "guest of my choice" will be? I guess it is too soon to know. Not HIM. I know that much.

Every now and then, I have a moment with him where I actually see the upside of not being with him past August. Last night, I had one (or a few) of those. He didn't do anything horrible--it was more just his general behavior. I have had a few nights like last night with him. I have never given the full story of what happened between me and him before I started writing on here. I started writing in... March? Well, December was a particularly dramatic month, and pretty much everything before December was tumultuous. Late December was when we settled into what we are now. From September to mid-December it was much much rockier. I will get around to telling the early part of my "relationship" with him sometime soon. But for now, I will just say that until December, I had a lot more moments like the one I had last night.

Last night, we watched another movie when he finished his work for the day, and I made us dinner. I finally convinced him to clean up some of his mess in my apartment, which was a good start to our evening. The movie ended and we switched to TV. My lower back had been killing me all day (maybe from standing at the concert the whole night before). Since I always rub his back, I figured he would be willing to return the favor. I asked him and he said, "[Sigh] Fineee." Lame. I hardly ever ask him to do it, so he could just agree without the attitude, or say no. But he did rub me, and it was nice. When he finished, I sat back down to read my novel/watch TV, and he turned to me and said, "Now will you rub me?" Seems like a fair enough request, right? But I rub him ALL the time. This one time I asked him to rub me, and he just can't stand to do it without getting something in return. But in the spirit of avoiding a pointless fight, I did it. I mentioned to him that his reaction to my request for a rubbing had bothered me, and he claimed he was just joking around. It didn't seem like he was joking, but I let it go. When I was done, I sat back down and continued reading. About five minutes later he turned to me and asked if I would make him waffles (he claims I make them better than he does--which is only because he is too impatient to let the waffle cook fully). Normally, I don't mind making them. It doesn't take long, and it makes him happy. But it really annoyed me how everything was about what I could do for HIM, once again. So I made them, but then just spent the rest of the evening sitting at my computer, looking at things online. I didn't feel like being next to him.

I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it just made me think about how SELFISH he can be. I mean, look at our whole situation in general! It is all about what he needs, what he wants, what he is comfortable with. Look at how he acts with papers and his thesis--he bounces ideas off of me for hours, and then acts like a jerk when I try to do the same. I cook, I do the dishes, I do way too much for him. If I was with him long-term, our whole relationship would be about HIM.

I didn't see any point in telling him that I was peeved last night or talking about it. It just would have caused another fight, where he would have admitted that he was selfish, we would have gone to our separate corners and cooled off, and everything would go back to normal. There is no point in fighting anymore.

He is at work now, and will be working on his thesis when he gets home. I need to hit the thesis hard today too. I don't feel like seeing him much today, which is precisely how it will work out with both of us revising all day.

Maybe later today or tomorrow I will get around to the story of S. That will be a hard one for me. So will P, which will be after S. Then it gets easier with M, and finally HIM. It will be good to get all of those things out. I never even wrote in a diary/journal about what happened with S or P. Not directly anyways. But for now, the only writing I should be doing is my thesis. Just a few more days and I will be done.

Too Tired To Think

I am exhausted. Here is how the evening unfolded:

We caught a 5PM train downtown, stopped at a bar for a drink, and hopped on more public transportation to make our way to C's apartment around 6:30. I was nervous that P would be there, but as it turned out I had nothing to worry about. It wasn't even really a get-together. It was just C, her boyfriend J, her two roommates (who only appeared briefly), and a couple that C and J are friends with (who were really just leaving when we got there). We stayed there for maybe an hour and a half, just chit-chatting. After we left, HE said that he thought the visit had felt kind of awkward. It actually had. I am not sure why. I think it is because we got there when the other guests were leaving, so I think C and J were ready for alone time by that point in the night. But we were out of their hair by 9PM, so I don't think we were too much of a problem.

He and I made our way to the bar where the concert was (more public transportation), and saw that the line for people who already had tickets was stretched around the building. We took our place in line, and since it wasn't moving at all I ran over to the Taco Bell next door to get food. We hadn't had dinner, and we had planned on eating in the bar, but eying the number of people in line, it didn't seem like a great plan anymore. I got back in line, we ate, and waited more. The doors were supposed to open at 9;30, but it was pretty well after 10 and the line wasn't budging.

We had had a few beers at C's house, plus the one drink before we went to her place, so I was a tad bit tipsy. I don't think it will surprise anyone, based on my past experiences, that being a tad bit tipsy around him often leads to an emotional shit storm. I don't even remember what started it, but he made some comment about me being his "girl," or something like that, and I responded with, "Yeah, for a couple more weeks anyways." Oops. I have been pretty good about controlling those types of comments lately--but guess alcohol brings out the worst in me (or maybe just makes me more honest). He said, "Let's not do this now. You know that I am going to be sad too when it ends." I said, "Yeah. Sure." He said, "Let's have a fun night. Let's not talk about this." To which I responded, "I am NOT going to keep avoiding that topic because it makes YOU feel uncomfortable or guilty. That is not fair. I am going to talk about it whenever I want, and you just have to deal with it." I think standing in line for so long had made me feisty. To my surprise, he backed down immediately. He said, "Okay, I understand," or something like that, which shut me up immediately. I think I was expecting a fight out of him. We spent the rest of the time in line in silence, with him occasionally trying to hug me or hold my hand--silent olive branches I guess.

About a half hour later, the line started moving. The door was still SO far away, but as we passed the door where the people on the guest list were allowed to enter, the guy working security pulled us aside and asked if we had tickets. We showed him our tickets, and he let us in the guest door. I have no idea why. He didn't let anyone else in that door. But it worked wonders on my mood. No more waiting in line. Although the concert was supposed to start at 10, it was now at least 10:30, with no sign of it starting. I think it finally started a little after 11, with the headliner not taking the stage until close to midnight.

We had a good time--danced, watched the show, had our picture taken by this company that takes free party photos. The picture involved him wearing a Rastafarian hat complete with dreads, and me wearing a boa and a white... pimp hat is really the only way to describe it... and jumping in the air on command while the picture was taken. Since I was wearing a dress, I inadvertently flashed the camera the first two times, but managed to get a good third picture. So that was a fun little souvenir (they printed out a wallet sized photo for each of us). The picture should be up on the company's website soon too, so I can print out a bigger copy. It is pretty hilarious.

At around 2:30AM, the concert was still going, but I was crashing pretty hard. We decided to head out. We had to take a cab home, because public transportation was done running. We made it back around 3:30AM, and I crashed immediately. Which explains why I feel completely brain dead today.

I should work on my thesis, but I don't know if I can think straight. He is working on his. He has to. He is supposed to get another draft to his advisor by tomorrow at the latest. I have a week left. Maybe I can take today off too. I shouldn't. I will take a shower and see how I feel.

So, once again, I managed to avoid what could have become a nasty fight (or HE managed to avoid it), and we ended up having a good time. I guess it was a pretty successful night. So why do I feel kind of off? Aside from being tired, I just feel emotionally out of it. I guess that the "tired" thing has something to do with it.

Leisure Time

I managed to get some work done yesterday, and I was prepared for the fact that I won't be doing any today. Today is the concert downtown (and probably C's apartment). He hasn't managed to get a hold of C yet to see who is going to be there, but I am going to try not to stress about it too much.

Yesterday really didn't turn out too bad. Aside from being fairly productive, he was also in a decent mood, which helped mine. He worked most of the day, but when he finished he came over. He had clearly been drinking a little, but he wasn't drunk. I was sitting at my computer and he came up behind me and put his arms around me and said, "I really appreciate you. You are a wonderful woman, and I am so lucky that I met you. And I really mean that, and all of the other things that I can't say." Of course, the last sentence made me a little crazy. Not out of curiosity, but because I want him to say all the things that he thinks he can't. But I guess he has to do what is right for him. It was still a nice speech.

I am just going to spend the afternoon relaxing and getting ready to go downtown. It is going to be hard to figure out what to wear--not because there is any sort of dress code at the concert, but because my clothes are getting depressingly tight on me these days. That is what happens when you write a thesis and hardly leave the house or wear anything that doesn't have an elastic waste band. His eating habits are miserable, and since we eat all of our meals together, it kind of rubs off. I need to get in shape. But for now, I will just have to make the best of what I have to work with. I will find something wearable. I hope.

I am going to enjoy today. It is going to be the last day out for at least a week (with thesis revisions and all), and I know that every time we do something together--hell, every day we spend together--is one thing/day closer to the end. I try not to think about it while I am actually out with him, but in quiet moments like this I can't help but remember how close the end is. At least I know to appreciate each moment/day. That is the silver lining. So I am determined to have a great time today. I will have a great time today.

Should Have Stayed In Bed

I haven't been having the greatest day. Not horrible, but definitely not great.

We woke up at a decent time this morning, but instead of using the time to get work done, we just stayed in bed and cuddled/talked. Aside from the guilt of not working on my thesis, not a bad start.

Around 11, I heard a buzz at my door. I was pretty confused. I wasn't expecting any packages, and I couldn't imagine who it could be. I thought the buzz was coming from downstairs--until I looked out the peephole and saw a guy standing there with a clipboard. It was definitely odd. You need a key to get into our building, so I knew it wasn't a sales person or a Jehovah's Witness or anything... I threw on a robe, told him to cover himself, and answered the door. It turns out the guy was from my school's real estate office. He said, "Hi. You filled out a vacancy notice and I need to do an inspection of your apartment." I was still confused--I filled out the vacancy notice for August 31, and I assumed they would do an inspection when the apartment was empty--right before I left. I told him this, and he said, "No, we just need to check for structural damage. We sent a letter telling you we would be coming today." There had been a letter about move-out procedures, but I honestly hadn't bothered reading it carefully, since I am not moving out just yet. I did not want to let someone into my apartment. It is currently a mess--thesis revisions are more important than cleaning--but I really had no choice, so I reluctantly let him in.

HE was still laying in bed with the comforter covering his... parts... the kitchen still had dishes from last night's dinner, my desk area looks like a library exploded, there are clothes, magazines, and various empty boxes and grocery bags on my floor, a full trash bag by the door waiting to go down to the dumpster, and a lot of empty bottles--thanks to his inability to ever throw anything away. After the guy left, I also realized that the toilet was unflushed, thanks to his tendency to pee in the middle of the night without flushing. To make things just a little worse, right when the guy got to the door to leave, HE called to the guy to wait and said, "I live next door and I am moving out in August too. Do you want to look over my place while you're here? I just have to throw some clothes on, I'll be right over." Super. The real estate guy thinks I am a disgusting slob who boinks her neighbors.

Okay, I guess it wasn't that bad, but I DEFINITELY would have cleaned if I knew the guy was coming. And I probably would have tried NOT to have my naked neighbor in my bed. HE seemed completely unphased by the whole experience. Good lord, he could have at least thrown pants on before I opened the door. Oh well, I guess I will never see real estate guy again. I will survive my slight embarrassment.

After that ordeal was over, I eventually made my way to the school library for more books. When I got back, I checked my email and found my first job rejection. It wasn't a job I was particularly excited about, and my qualifications didn't quite fit it, but it still feels bad to be rejected. I have this completely ridiculous notion that my rejection from that one job means that none of the others will want me either. Even though it wasn't the job I really wanted, it still doesn't feel good.

The other thing that is wearing my nerves a bit thin is the fact that he bought us tickets for a concert at a bar downtown tomorrow. It is not the concert that is stressing me out, it is our plans for before the concert. C is having a get-together at her apartment (the same place we went for the 4th of July), and he wants to go to it, since it is basically on our way to the bar. I am not too excited about it, because I am afraid that P will be there. I never returned his last two calls. I am embarrassed, and it would be awkward. I don't know that he will be at C's tomorrow, but I asked HIM to call C and ask who is going. Even though I warned him not to, knowing him he will say something like, "BG wants to know if P is going because she has been avoiding his calls and is too embarrassed to see him." C is good friends with P. I don't want HIM to tell her about the whole situation. He just needs to say, "We might come tomorrow if we get a chance. Who else is going to be there?" That is ALL he has to say. I just know him better than that. So I have two choices--let him ask C who is going to be there any way that he wants, or just show up and hope for the best.

I haven't worked on my thesis at all today, unless you consider getting books at the library "working." I just feel kind of... frayed. I don't think that is a word people typically use to describe their mood, but it definitely fits. I feel kind of worn down, broken, and like I am barely keeping myself and everything around me together. I am stressed, worried, sad, anxious, and just generally BLAH. I know that I will not get much work done tomorrow, because of our plans, so I should do something today. I just wish that I could read a novel, watch movies, and/or sleep. Or go shopping. I don't have many warm-weather clothes, so that would be a good way to spend the day too. But I know that those would all be temporary fixes, which would put me further behind in my work, and actually make me feel worse in the long run. So I guess I will work for a bit. At least a little.

I know that all in all, my day has not been so bad. I know that I have a good life. Every time I complain like this, I feel so ungrateful. I know how lucky I am. I just have a hard time getting past the day-to-day drama sometimes. I need to work on that.

Another Late Start

Well, thing got worse before they got better last night. We were both still a little moody, but around 7PM he came over and told me he was going to make tomato soup and grilled cheese for us. He brought it to my house when it was ready... and then spilled his bowl of soup on my foot by accident. It was REALLY hot, so, naturally, I said "OW!" and started shaking my foot (the shaking was a bad idea--red spots everywhere--but I wasn't exactly thinking about that at the time). I wasn't mad at him, I was in pain. He said, "IT ISN'T THAT FUCKING BAD!" And I started crying--still in pain and being yelled at. I went to the bathroom to clean my foot off, and while I was in there I heard him leave. I went immediately over to his apartment and told him that I wasn't mad about him spilling the soup on me, I was mad about his nasty reaction to me saying "OW." He just kept saying, "I'll change your sheets" (in addition to my foot, it also got all over my bed). I said, "I don't care about the fucking sheets! Your reaction just bothered me." He offered a pretty insincere apology, and I asked him to come back over to my apartment. A good move on my part I think. We sat there watching TV, silent and angry at first--but gradually we both softened and things went back to normal. I managed to avoid another fight.

As the night wore on, our moods improved more. I finished reading my novel (another Jodi Picoult book--and honestly, I don't know if I will read any of her others--I feel like she just goes for the cheap cries, if that makes any sense) while he watched TV. He went to sleep before me for a change, and I laid there for awhile listening to him snore. I couldn't quit get to sleep. He slept strangely last night--really restless. At one point, he sat straight up and asked me what I was listening to (the room was silent), and about two other times he sat up and just looked around--like he expected to see something in the room that wasn't there. After that he stayed fairly well asleep, but he was much more cuddly than usual (with the heat, cuddling is just not practical). At some point, before I fell asleep, he reached over and grabbed my hand, almost frantically, and hugged it to his chest hard a few times (I am pretty sure he did it in his sleep). Then he just held it while he slept. At some point later in the night, I felt him kiss the back of my shoulder and the cuddle up behind me. He seemed to want to be touching me almost at all times last night. It was so different. I felt really cared about for the first time in awhile. I wish all nights could be like that. I wonder what was so different about last night.

He is still sleeping--less than 10 feet away from me. I know I need to get work done, but I don't want to turn lights on and wake him up. He seems so at peace. Maybe I will just use a desk lamp. I need to be more productive today. I am running out of time.

Everything But Me

I am in a mood. I just snapped at him, but left his apartment to avoid a fight.

I woke up today and worked on my thesis. He called me around 2PM and asked if I wanted to meet him at the bar for a beer. It was a bit early to be drinking, but I needed a break from my thesis, so I went. When he got there, he was clearly stressed out. He told me about how stressful work is, about how worried he is about his thesis, and about how nervous he is about the job search. As he was going on about everything that is bothering him, I couldn't help but think, He is stressed out about a lot of things... everything but me. It sounds ridiculous, right? Why should he be stressed about me? It just seems like the one thing that doesn't bother him is the fact that we are almost DONE. We are talking a month or less left here. I seem to matter less than even the smallest things in his life. His job is more like a paid internship--nothing he plans to do permanently, and something that he will definitely only be doing until he finishes his thesis. It started as a work study job, and really has no bearing on his future career. But he seems to even stress out more about THAT than our situation.

When we left the bar, we went to the grocery store. When we got home, I asked him if we were eating the food we bought for dinner or lunch. He kind of snapped at me a little bit--like he was annoyed that I had asked. So I just went into my own apartment, made myself lunch, worked on my thesis more, and left him alone.

I went into his apartment a few minutes ago to get a beer and he asked if I was mad at him. I told him not really, but that I was slightly annoyed that he had snapped at me. He said he knew, blamed it on thesis stress, and apologized. He told me to sit down. I could feel my bad mood lifting a little bit. I sat down... and he immediately turned back to his computer screen and kept working. Why on earth would you ask me to sit down if you just planned on going straight back to work? He knows that I absolutely hate it when he does that. He can never seem to stop himself from doing it though. So I just quietly got up and headed for the door. I wasn't going to start a fight about it, but I definitely wasn't going to sit there and watch him work. He turned around and asked what I was doing. I said, "I am not going to sit here and watch you work. Why would I do that?" He asked if I was hungry. I told him that I already ate lunch (since he never answered my question earlier about which meal the food was for), and left. I know he could tell I was in a bad mood by that point--but at least I avoided a fight. Of course he didn't come after me. He never does.

Last night, I did the most masochistic thing ever. That is probably what started this mood in the first place. I read the old text messages that he sent when he and his ex-girlfriend were still together. He knew I was doing it, so it wasn't like I was snooping. I regretted it almost immediately. They said everything that I have ever wanted him to say to me. Example: "I love you my beautiful best friend," and "you are mine and I am yours. Love." It just hurts to know that he is capable of commitment, of expressing his emotions, and of giving himself to someone else. I shouldn't have looked at them. They made me feel so small and insignificant.

I don't think I want to work on my thesis anymore today. I think I am just going to read my novel and try to erase this mood. It really isn't worth fighting about. I refuse to fight anymore. I will just do my own thing until I am out of this funk.

The Story of A (cont)

A was going to college close to home, and he wound up having a really hard time adjusting to school. A was probably the smartest person I have ever met, but he had trouble motivating himself to show up to class and complete assignments. He was clearly depressed. Over the phone, I would try to talk to him, make him feel better, and convince him to go to class, but there wasn't much I could do. A was in and out of school all year, giving up and moving back home, then going back--he went back and forth several times. By the end of the year, he was back at home for good, working the night shift at a department store.

I had a very different college experience. I enjoyed it almost right away. I made friends, I went to parties--I basically worked hard to make living 12 hours away from home easier for myself. I went to all of my classes, and had a pretty busy schedule.

A and I started to run into problems pretty early. He was depressed and wanted to be on the phone with me a lot, and I was trying to adjust to a new school in a new state, and could not sit in on the phone with him every night. I tried to give him enough time, but I felt like he never thought it was enough. We just needed different things. It was also really my first time going to parties and drinking, and he definitely didn't like me out with other guys hitting on me and trying to drunkenly make out with me. We had more fights than I can even remember. Still, he came to visit me twice that year, and I saw him a lot when I was home for holidays. We somehow made it to the end of the year intact.

Over the summer, I got a job at a local Target, and he was still working the night shift in another store. We still saw each other a lot. We had another great summer. In some ways, I think that it rejuvenated our relationship. We really needed that summer together.

When it came time for me to go back to school, trouble started up again almost immediately. The same old fights. I wanted to spend my Saturday night out with friends, and he wanted me to spend it on the phone with him. He was depressed, and I didn't know how to handle that. I started pushing him away. By the time Christmas break rolled around, we had taken a break, agreeing to see each other when I was home. When I called him, he didn't want to see me. I guess we had both been pushed to our breaking points. He ended it for good.

It was a hard breakup for me. We had had a pretty emotionally charged relationship. We fought about me going out with friends, about him not going to classes, and also about him becoming friends with my ex-best friend. He went to school with her (before he dropped out). They knew each other a tiny bit from high school. E and I had been inseparable from 9th-12th grade. We had a huge falling out toward the end of high school (I was dating S, she had an equally psychotic boyfriend--long story short, we had a big fight and stopped speaking). When he got to college, he became friends with E--like eat-lunch-with-her-everyday friends. After I wrote her a letter trying to bury the hatchet, and he told me she'd gotten it but wasn't going to respond, I could not stand knowing that he was hanging around her. It was so painful to know that he was eating lunch with her, or hanging out with her, when she refused to try to put our past behind her. He didn't seem to understand why it hurt me so much. So, we fought about that a lot too.

After A and I broke up, I cried for days--maybe even weeks. I was devastated. I had cared about him a lot. We were together during a very difficult, transitional time. I think the timing is really what killed us. We were so angry at each other by the end, that we haven't spoken since. I think it was hard for him too. There was just so much baggage left over from our relationship--I don't think we were capable of remaining friends. After we broke up, he would drunkenly IM my roommates on random nights. One of them had to ask him to stop on my behalf. It was too painful for me.

I am still sad that A and I couldn't remain friends. I really have nothing but respect for him. Unfortunately, I don't think he thinks of me as fondly. It just wasn't a good time to be in a long distance relationship. It still weighs heavy on my heart sometimes. Every now and then, I think about him and miss him. In a different time, we could have been great together.

The Story of A

A will be the last easy one to write about, so I think I will start his story now. After that comes S--the stalker. That is where things get tough.

A and I first met in jr. high, around the time that I met D. Of course, I was completely hung up on D, and didn't think of A as anything more than a friend. A was one of those interesting people in high school, who was somehow friends with every single person in our grade. He was part class clown, part musical prodigy, part artist (amazing at drawing and painting), and incredibly eccentric and talkative.

When he met someone new, A would often start out by telling the story of his birth. It was such an unusual and interesting story, that it drew people in right away. And it is completely true--his (adoptive) mother showed me the newspaper articles. A had no idea who his birth parents were. He claimed that it didn't bother him, but I could always tell that it did. A's birth mother gave birth to A in the woods. Police theorized that she was a student at a local nursing school, and that she could not go home to her parents pregnant, so she kept the pregnancy a secret. They think she may have panicked when she went into labor and run into the woods near the school. After she gave birth, she left A in the woods, uncovered. He was found the next morning (something like 12 hours later) by a nurse who happened to be walking her down down a trail in the woods, with only minor scratches and bruises. He was adopted soon after, and lived with a loving and adoring adoptive mother, who actually looked quite a bit like him.

When D broke up with me in 8th grade, I heard that A had a crush on me. Eager to move on, and intrigued by A's magnetic personality, I started "going out" with him almost immediately. I think we only kissed once--at a school dance--and then I realized that my heart was not in it. I broke up with him after about a week (typical of junior high "dating"). A and I didn't talk much after that. I felt guilty about the breakup, and I think we both felt kind of awkward. We did a good job of avoiding each other until senior year.

A and D ran with the same circle of friends. I started running with that circle of people too, when things started up again with me and D. I didn't run into A that often, but once things ended with D, we started talking more. Not so much talking, as flirting. Unlike in 8th grade, this time around I actually felt some serious chemistry. I started spending more and more time with A.

One night, when my parents were out of town, A came over my house. We ended up kissing (well, more like making out), and he spent the night. It was pretty innocent. Nothing beyond kissing. When I was with A, I pretty much forgot about D. It was so nice to not be thinking about him all the time. I hadn't been looking for a relationship, but I really liked him, and pretty soon, A and I started dating.

The first time A and I had sex it was... rushed and awkward. It got better with time. I didn't find out until months later that I had been A's first. I still feel guilty about that. I wish he had told me that he was a virgin, so we could have made the first time more... something. I don't really know. I just would have liked to have known.

Anyways, A and I had a great summer together. When the time came for me to leave for college, we were both sad, but focused on making it work. Long-distance was, of course, harder than either of us could have imagined.

TO BE CONTINUED

Oops

I slept in later than I intended to this morning. After I got back from the library yesterday, I was exhausted from spending the whole day in front of a microfilm machine, so I decided to relax. When he got home we had a couple of drinks. Which turned into a couple more. Shocking, right? Surprisingly, I did not have any massive emotional meltdowns, like I tend to do when I am drinking, but I did pass out around 2AM. I had nightmares all night. Why do I keep having dreams like these? Last night, this man and woman essentially tricked me and this little toddler I was looking after to get into a car with them. They tried to kill us in a car crash, and when that didn't work, they chased us with guns. Weird stuff. I didn't watch anything last night with guns... or car crashes... or toddlers, for that matter. But I guess dreams like that just happen sometimes. Or almost every night.

Still no news on the job front. I should probably find more jobs to apply to. I think I applied to... 7? I don't even know. I just applied to anything that looked interesting and that I seemed to be basically qualified for. In every case, I can imagine someone better-qualified than me getting the position. I hope I'm wrong. I guess I should just keep applying and be patient with the applications that I already have out. At least I haven't received and "no"'s yet.

I have been feeling generally numb lately when it comes to him. Just blank. Is that my mind protecting itself? I can just feel myself shutting down when it comes to thinking and worrying about him. Either he is generally managing not to do things to piss me off lately, or I have just kind of given up on him and have stopped getting upset at things that I used to get upset about. He still sleeps here every night. We still do almost everything together when we aren't working on our respective theses. I guess I don't have much time to dwell on things, since he is always with me. Now that everyone else is pretty much gone for good, he comes straight home after work (or after having a beer at the bar), and stays with me until it is time to go to work again the next day. We don't talk about the end anymore. I don't bring it up anymore. He never brought it up in the first place. I guess I don't bring it up because there is nothing left to say--except "I WILL GO ANYWHERE WITH YOU," but if I haven't said that yet, I probably never will. It wouldn't make a difference anyways.

So, can I actually say that I am resigned, once an for all, that the end will come and I can't stop it? It looks that way, mainly because we haven't fought in weeks. Me fighting with him was always really just me fighting for US. Now I seem to have given up.

The only thing that he is doing these days to make me angry is that he always walks in on me when I am writing on here. He knows that I have a blog--but that is all he knows. He doesn't know anything else about it. Lately, he has been asking me a lot about it. I always tell him to just let me have my privacy. I know that if he really wanted to find it, he could. He would just have to go into my computer history when I am not home. I think that he will respect my privacy. I would be devastated if he read any of this. It is just like having someone read your diary--especially since this has replaced my written journals. It is just too much information for him to have. He doesn't need to know everything I think and feel.

Maybe a fresh start in a new city will be exactly what I need. Far away from him. I can just forget that this whole year happened--until I finally reach a point where I can look back on it fondly, rather than with feelings of sadness and loss. Once I leave here, I am going to stay completely single for a good long while. NO MORE pseudo-relationships, and no real relationships until I spend some good, quality-time with MYSELF. I need to work on ME, so that I stop getting into these "friends-with-benefits" situations. This is my THIRD. Time to learn and break the habit.

Research in the Rain

It is pretty stormy out, but I am still going to go to the library downtown. I am actually happy that it is raining--it cools things off a bit. And it also feels pretty good to be awake at a decent time, even though I probably could have slept for another several hours. I have been having scary dreams anyways--probably from the types of movies we've been watching. Last night it was The Mist, which was kind of a sci-fi/horror movie based on a Stephen King novella. More than anything, it was actually downright depressing. Not really what one expects from that type of movie.

He got his first bite on a job application. I am happy for him, but again have the obvious feelings about the end coming near. If he winds up in this job, he will probably be in Wyoming or South Dakota. I applied for two more jobs yesterday. It is really just a waiting game for me. He and I do completely different types of work and are going through a completely different application process. I am most likely going to end up in California, New York, or the D.C. area. If I am ever hired. My Mom told me that the general rule is that for every $10,000/year you are looking to make, it will take a month to find a job. I am not really searching by salary, but most of the jobs I am looking at make $35,000-40,000/year. Four months according to my Mom's rule. We'll see if that holds true. Maybe I will have to be back with my parents for a little bit before I find a job. At least I am finally applying.

I had a dream last night that I was engaged to him. It was the last dream I had before I woke up. I remember some of what he said when he asked too. He said, "I know that I never told you I loved you early-on, but I think you know that I did. I loved you the whole time." I hate dreams like that. I hate waking up from them. My mind enjoys playing fun little games with my heart.

I really am calmer about everything though. I don't really have a choice. I am enjoying the time we spend together, and managing to keep my bad moods in check fairly well. I guess I feel a little calmer now because I really know the end is inevitable. This is going to be a strange analogy, but it was like this time that I was in the car with my Mom and my great aunt. My Mom was driving, and my great aunt was sitting in the passenger's seat. I was sitting in the back. I was maybe 16. We were on the highway driving along--good weather, no reason to suspect that something would go wrong. All of a sudden, an 18-wheeler about ten cars ahead of us turned completely sideways. Cars started to smash into it immediately. I remember broken glass hitting our windshield--little pieces, almost like raindrops. Everything started to move in slow-motion. I remember seeing the pile of cars getting bigger and bigger as we got closer to it. I felt completely calm. My only thought was, we are going to hit that. I wasn't afraid, I was just certain that it was going to happen. At the last second, my Mom managed to swerve (mainly through sheer luck and instinct), through a small opening in the breakdown lane. We were one of the only cars that managed to get around the wreck without becoming part of it.

I have never forgotten that feeling of certainty and calm. I like knowing that if I ever am in a horrible accident, I won't have to worry about being afraid or panicked when it happens. And I guess I have something like that feeling of calm and certainty in this situation with him--except with a small twisting, aching feeling in my chest, which I guess must be--sadness? Regret? I can't quite place it. So it is not quite the same thing, but I am still managing to remain a lot calmer than I was when I thought there was still hope for this "relationship" lasting. The inevitability of the situation ending is like a sedative.

I guess I should shower and head out. This thesis isn't going to revise itself. I think I can put in a good four hours or so at the archive today.

Back to the Thesis

The past few days, I have been applying for more jobs. I met with my thesis advisor on Friday, and I have A LOT of work to do. I am not really upset about that though, because I know that his suggestions will make my paper better--just worried about getting it all done in time. Tomorrow I have to go back to the archive. Sigh. I guess I knew that was coming, but some small part of me hoped I was done shuttling downtown and back for research. Today I am going to go to the school library for more books, type up the notes I took during my meeting with my advisor, and probably apply for a couple more jobs. The thesis work will start tomorrow.

Things are great with HIM, aside from the usual nagging thoughts about the future. If this was a real relationship, I could say "things have never been better," or "we are doing fantastic," but those kinds of statements seem pointless in our situation--if that makes any sense. Things really couldn't be much better between us in the day-to-day stuff. There really isn't anything to fight about. If it wasn't for the end creeping up faster and faster, things would be perfect. I don't even know what else to say about it.

We've been watching a lot of movies. Last night, we watched Into The Wild. Long, but good. I want to read the book now (because we all know that the book is usually much better than the movie). Somehow, the fact that it is based on a true story really made the movie for me. It really makes you sit there and try to figure out what is going on in Chris/Alex's head. Is he selfish and reckless, or free-spirited and adventurous? It was really interesting how he just disappeared from his family without a trace. In high school, I always used to dream of making an escape like the one he actually made--not to go into the Alaskan wilderness, but just to start over somewhere new. I never actually did it (or would have done it), but he did. And it was fascinating to watch someone do what I always fantasized about doing when times got stressful or hard.

P has called me a few more times. Yesterday when I was at the grocery store with HIM, and last Saturday (that call, I genuinely missed). I know that I am a selfish bitch, but I wish that he would just stop calling. He is so persistent. I don't know if I HAVE to call him back. I just don't want to meet up with him. In a different time, under different circumstances--sure--but not now.

Considering not much worth mentioning is going on in my life at the moment, maybe I will continue with the past. I already gave the story of D, so maybe I will move on to A next, and make my way all the way through my dating history. But for now, off to shower and start my day (better late than never).

The Story of D (cont)

When I showed up to my math meeting that afternoon, D came right over to talk to me. He said, "So I here you are going to the library with us after this." I smiled and said, "Yup." He smiled back and promised to wait for me after our class.

When the meeting finally ended, D and I walked down the street together toward the library. The whole way, conversation was easy and fluid. Just as I had hoped. When we got to the library, the group had reserved a study room. As the afternoon wore on, the rest of the group seemed to be leaving D and I alone in the study room purposely. S's doing for sure. But it was wonderful. We didn't have a single lull in conversation all afternoon.

After that day, D and I started running with the same group of friends. We became close, and we both had large, unspoken, crushes on each other. One day in math class, I saw my name written on the cover of his notebook with a heart around it. I remember how my heart jumped at the sight of it. Surely it couldn't be in reference to ME. I convinced myself that it must be written about someone else, even though I was the only person with my name in the entire school.

By the time summer vacation came, we had both finally gotten up the nerve to tell each other how we felt. We exchanged phone calls and sappy love letters all summer. We started "dating," which in jr. high essentially consisted of going with groups of friends to the movies, talking on the phone for hours every night, and once school started up again--meeting in the soccer field behind the school every day at the end of the day to make out.

I was in LOVE. The pages of my diary filled with thoughts about D. I couldn't wait for my nightly phone conversations with him, as even the time apart from him between school and our evening talks was excruciating.

Then one day, he broke my heart. At the end of school one day, he pulled me aside and said that he didn't love me anymore and wanted to break up. I was crushed. We had been together for 8 months--quite an accomplishment at age 13-14.

I refused to let him see me cry. I moved on quickly to another guy in my grade, A, in an attempt to forget about D and to show him that I wasn't going to waste any time on him. He moved on as well. Years passed. After my very brief "relationship" with A, and a short fling with a guy from another school--J, I dated S (the stalker). It was a nasty, abusive, traumatic relationship. I was with S starting partway through 10th grade.

Junior year, I had an American History class with assigned seating, and wound up seated right behind D, who I hadn't really talked to since we broke up. Over the past two years, I had surprisingly never gotten over D. I still thought of him often and missed him. My feelings for him, even though based in a jr. high "relationship," refused to die. We started talking again.

I finally managed to get out of my bad relationship with S shortly after, and D and I started hanging out again. Our friendship soon became a physical relationship, much more complicated than the innocent making-out of jr. high. Our nightly phone calls resumed, but like our physical relationship, were deeper and more complex than our 13-year-old conversations. I realized how deeply I still cared for him, and I realized that he felt the same. He told me he loved me, and I told him the same. It was perfect--for a short time.

Senior year came in the blink of an eye. I found out that I would be going to college twelve hours away, while D would be staying close to home. Always more rational than me, D said that a long-distance relationship would never work, and suggested that we scale our relationship back to "just friends." For the second time, D had broken my heart, and for the second time, I refused to let him see me grieve. I rebounded almost immediately into a relationship with A (yes, the same one who I rebounded with in 8th grade). A and I did the long distance thing for my entire first year of college, and into the first term of my sophomore year. When we were together, he did not like me having contact with D, because he knew D, and he knew our history. When A and I broke up, D and I started talking again. Every time I was home on a school break, D and I would get together--and usually ended up falling back into our old feelings and physical relationship. Through the years, the chemistry was always there whenever we met up. It would feel like no time had passed. My feelings for him never faded--they only grew stronger. I always compared boyfriends to D, and I always came back to him when relationships ended.

This past summer, the long cycle finally ended. I met up with D in mid-August to go out to a bar and catch up. I was dating M, and he was "on a break" with his girlfriend A. We talked about our relationships, our future plans--everything. The feelings were still there, but we both knew better than to jeopardize our current relationships for something that was still not convenient, due to distance and bad timing. During the drive home, D confessed to me that he always thought of me and compared his girlfriends to me. We talked about the fact that we have always "gotten" each other in a way that no one else gets either of us. Despite our better judgment, we kissed before I got out of the car. He wanted to do more, but I reminded him of our respective significant others, and told him that we should not have even kissed.

About a week later, my cellphone rang and I saw his name on the caller ID. I answered--but it wasn't him, it was his girlfriend. She yelled at me for what had happened. Apparently D had told her that I had thrown myself at him because I was drunk and that I had practically forced him to kiss me. D later told me that she had cheated on him while they were together, and he initially told her the truth about what happened between him and I to make her jealous, but when he saw how angry she was he changed his story and blamed it all on my to save his own ass. The next day, she contacted my boyfriend M over facebook to tell him what D told her happened. D called to tell me what she had done, and I managed to do damage control and to salvage my relationship with M before he learned about the kiss through her message (which was exaggerated and untrue due to what D had told her).

After that, something switched off in me. I felt betrayed by D. I was not proud of the fact that him and I had stupidly kissed, but his behavior afterward was inexcusable in my mind. All of the feelings I had had for him finally faded away with the realization that he would sacrifice his friendship with me and my relationship with M so easily to save his own ass. We agreed that we could not talk any more, for the sake of A and M. He removed me as a facebook friend shortly after. I was sad that I had lost one of my best friends, but surprised and relieved that my love for him had FINALLY died.

Now that M and I are no longer together, and he and A broke up, we are back in contact, but I still don't feel for him what I used to. He was my first real love, without a doubt, but my heart and mind finally let him go when he hurt me one too many times.

So that is the basic story of D. That gives you at least a piece of my relationship past--a glimpse into why I am the way I am. Maybe I will tell the stories of my other relationships at some point too--some of which are painful for me to talk about. I have done some stupid things, and have had some bad things happen to me as a consequence. Maybe it will be therapeutic. But I guess that is enough for today. Off to fill out more job applications.

The Story of D

I have to leave for my meeting soon, and I am not sure how long this will take me to write, but I will start, because otherwise I might never write it.

The first time I ever saw D was on the first day of 7th grade. My town had three elementary schools that housed grades K-6. In seventh grade, kids from all 3 elementary schools went to the town's one jr/sr high school, which held grades 7-12. For many, it was our first time meeting the 2/3 of the kids our age in town who had gone to the other elementary schools. The first day of seventh grade, I was walking alone down one of the front hallways in the high school (I think I was out on a hall pass or something). I got a few steps down the hall, when I saw a guy (or boy I guess) walking toward me in the opposite direction. We were the only two people in the hall. I remember feeling tingly and almost electrified. The attraction was instant. Looking back, it seems kind of funny now. He was a tall, lanky kid with brown hair, cut in a bowl cut, and he had blue-green eyes, and braces. He was definitely the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. We walked past each other in the hall, glancing at each other, but not saying anything.

The rest of the day was spent getting used to hopping from class to class every time the bell rang, trying to get used to using a locker, and meeting a ridiculous number of new people.

For one of the last periods of the day, I had math. I walked into the room, found a seat, and waited for class to start. It had been an exhausting, exciting day, and I was pretty spaced out. Class started a few minutes later and the teacher started calling attendance. I looked around as people raised their hands and said, "here," trying to remember the names of at least some of my new classmates. The teacher called another name, and like I had done with all the names before it, I looked up to see where the "here" was coming from. And I saw the guy from the hallway. Now I knew his name--D. My heart jumped. From that moment forward, I couldn't get him out of my head.

The next couple of weeks were filled with classes, new friends, and standardized testing. One day, I learned that I had scored well on a particular standardized test and was going to be asked to take the PSAT's later in the year. In order to prepare for the math section, which included a lot of math that we would not learn for several more years, my math teacher held a class after school once a week for me and the nine other people taking the test. When I showed up on the first day, I saw that D was there. I was too nervous to talk to him much, and week after week I barely managed to choke out two or three words to him.

One week, on the day of the math meeting, my best friend from elementary school, S, and I were talking at lunch. We had plans to hang out that afternoon after my meeting, but she had learned that day that she had to do a group project for science class, and had to go to the public library that afternoon to make a poster board with her group. She asked if I wanted to go with her and then hang out after the poster session. I agreed. She said, "Good! Well, D is in my science group, so you can just walk to the library with him when your meeting ends." Oh. Dear. God. I was nervous as hell, but it was just the opportunity I had been waiting for.

TO BE CONTINUED

Nervous

I meet with my MA thesis advisor at 3 today to hear his comments about my draft. He is an expert on my topic. I am not. Pretty much not looking forward to this, but I just have to bite the bullet and do it.

When he finally woke up the other day (around 6pm!), he did not realize that he had been so nasty to me. He said he was sorry, and that he had actually been glad to see me. The wacky sleeping hours had his emotions going kind of loopy. He started crying, and I could not stay mad at him. We spent the rest of the day watching movies and relaxing.

I applied for another job yesterday. I guess I will keep plugging away at them one job at a time. I think I would go nuts if I tried to do them all in one day. Hopefully one of them pans out. I still haven't talked to my Dad about not wanting to move out on August 8, but I did talk to my Mom about it (she is not quite as frantic about picking a move-out date as my Dad) and I think they are going to ease off of me a little bit.

So, it is Friday. Which is just like every other day of the week for me now. The days are going by incredibly fast, and they all kind of blur together. At least once a day I have a moment of panic where I realize that this will all end very soon. Then I push it out of my mind and try to enjoy it while it lasts. I can't let anger consume the little time we have left. We have just grown so close to each other. I know it is going to hurt like hell. I know that this was what he was trying to prevent the whole time. We eat our meals together, we sleep at my apartment together every night now, and we spend most of the rest of the time together too. Our lives are just completely intertwined now. I can't imaging the hole that is going to be there when he is gone.

It makes me wonder (again) why he doesn't want this to continue. Is it for the reason he says? He always claims that it would just be too hard to try to stay together at this point in our lives (especially considering that neither of us want long-distance relationships) and that he needs to be selfish right now and focus on himself. Or is it worse? Is it that he just wants to see who else is out there? Is it that he knows he doesn't love me like I love him? Does he think I'm not good enough?

I guess it really doesn't matter. It has the same outcome either way. I just have a deep fear that this will be D part two. I was in love with D for almost 10 years before I finally got over him. Sounds impossible considering I am only 23, but it's true. I fell in love with him in 7th grade--I was 12 or 13--and it didn't shut off until the summer before I came here. Of course I dated other people in that time, but I didn't really love any of them looking back. None of them stacked up to D in my heart or mind. I can't spend the next 10 years hung up on HIM. How do I stop that from happening?

I should shower and get ready for my meeting. Maybe after I shower I will write the long story of D here. I don't think I have ever given the whole thing.

It's Gonna Be One Of Those Days

Yes, I feel the need to post again today. I am pissed. I went in to check on him about a half hour ago. He kept drinking long after I stopped last night, so I went in to see if he needed water/food and to make sure that he wasn't drowning in a puddle of his own vomit. His door was locked, but I have a key, so I let myself in. I just wanted to pop in for a second and make sure he was alive.

I went over to the bed, where he was sleeping--or at least laying--and asked him if he was okay and if he needed any water or anything. Instead of simply answering "no thanks," or "i'm fine," he took a really nasty tone with me and said, "no, I just want to sleep." It wasn't what he said, it was how he said it. It was as if I had gone in there and said, "wake up now," or something like that. He was clearly pissed. So that set me off. I headed straight for the door and as I stepped out I said, "You know, I was just checking on you. You woke me up three times this morning, so you really have nothing to be pissy about. Calm the fuck down." And then I closed his door and came home. Seriously, I just wanted to make sure he was okay and see if he needed anything. My god, how dare I do that--I am such a monster.

I am still simmering down. I am so fucking patient with all of his crap. I didn't snap at him when he woke me up three times this morning. And you know, it is not just this incident. He has been moody in general lately. I know that he is stressed about his job search--but I AM TOO. He needs to grow the fuck up.

He has also been pissing me off with a "warning" that he has been giving me perpetually lately. He keeps saying, "I am not very good at keeping in touch." Oh super! So not only are you dropping me without a second thought when this year ends, but you are also not going to bother to keep in touch with me. You know what? It is probably for the best. I will probably get over him faster having no contact with him. It just pisses me off because it is another reminder of how little I matter to him when it comes down to it. He can't make the slightest bit of effort for me. It is always all about him. Selfish bastard.

The worst part about all of this is that as angry as I am with him, about immediate issues and the deeper problems, I still love him in a way that I cannot explain. I would drop everything if he told me that he wanted me to go with him wherever he goes next year. And that just makes me angry at myself. Do I have any self-respect? Why can't I control my emotions?

I think what it comes down to, is that I can see how good it could be if we didn't have this expiration date. When it is good with us, it is amazing--and 90% of our fights are about the fact that this is going to end in August. I just can't help but to feel that if we didn't have this August thing hanging over our head, we would be this amazing, happy couple. I know that most of my bad moods with him spring from the fact that I feel rejected or cast aside by him. If I didn't feel like that, we would hardly ever fight. It reminds me of this part of the movie You've Got Mail (not a cinematic masterpiece, but c'mon that movie is adorable and actually littered with pretty profound lines if you pay attention), where Joe is talking to Kathleen after they've become friends. It is right toward the end of the movie when she is about to go meet her internet guy--Joe knows that he is actually her internet guy, but Kathleen doesn't yet. Anyways, Joe is talking to her on the sidewalk, right before she goes up to her apartment to get ready for her date. He is talking about how if he had not put her bookstore out of business, and they had met under different circumstances, they might have started dating and fallen in love. He says something like, "And the only thing we would have to fight about would be what movie to rent on a Saturday night." That line has been popping into my head lately. Kind of like how a song can get stuck in your head. I just so deeply feel that line right now--if that makes any sense.

I guess that is just another example of me turning to books, movies, or anything else I can to make sense of my own life. Does everyone do that? I always have. Sometimes fiction is the only thing that helps me deal with fact. I find quotes, or songs, or pictures that I can relate to and cling to them like life preservers. Knowing that someone else felt something like what I feel is the only thing that helps sometimes. Thank goodness for art--written, cinematic, visual, etc--I would feel so alone without it.

Busy Busy Busy

I have had a pretty busy couple of days. I am completely exhausted at the moment, and writing here is about the most strenuous thing I can manage to do.

I have officially HAD IT with my parents. My Dad emailed me yesterday morning basically saying, "How about I come move you out on August 8?" I am not even going to respond. I cannot handle their constant nagging. August 8 is too early. They simply will not listen to me--we have only had about a hundred phone conversations about this. Sometimes parents are so incredibly frustrating.

On a happier note, I submitted two job applications yesterday. They are basically for the same job at different pay grades. The job pays well, has benefits, and is something I would enjoy. It is a little bit of a reach for me, but I think I have a chance. I need to get moving on more applications--probably today--but I don't have the energy right now. At least I got two out. That is a start.

My thesis advisor finally emailed me. He hasn't returned my draft yet, but he did propose some possible times and places for us to meet and discuss the draft. My choices are: go pretty far downtown and meet him for breakfast tomorrow at 10AM, go pretty far downtown and meet him at 4PM tomorrow, or have him come to campus and meet me sometime Friday. These choices are causing me quite a bit of stress. He is doing research somewhere downtown where I have never been--and it is really far out there. I have no idea how to get there, although I am sure I could figure it out. Not having a car makes things much more difficult. I would have to take a train and a combination of other public transportation to get there. It would be MUCH easier for me if he came to campus, but for some reason I don't want to ask him to. I would feel like I was inconveniencing him. And adding to the stress about the time/place of the meeting is the fact that I am nervous about what he is going to say about my draft. He is pretty much an expert on the topic I wrote on. I know that I have to email him back very soon, but I can't decide what to say.

The reason I am so tired today is that yesterday he and I went to Cirque du Soleil. It was just as good as I remembered it being, and he was definitely surprised that it was so entertaining. I think it was worth the expensive ticket price. The show ended around 10:30, and it took awhile to catch a bus back to the main downtown area. We got back to that area at around 11:40. We could have caught and 11:55 train home, but he wanted to stay out later and since normally I can't drag him out of the apartment, I happily agreed. We went to the first bar we ever went to together. We stayed there until about 1:45AM. By the time we got outside, we had missed the last train, and the bus that we could also take to get home stopped running at 1:30. We had to get a cab--which was surprisingly difficult to do. We finally got one though, and probably made it home by about 2:30. We were both all wound up from the trip home, and ended up staying up quite a bit later. I think I fell asleep around 5:30. It was so ridiculously hot and uncomfortable in the apartment that I just could not get comfortable. Around 6:30, he woke me up and said he couldn't sleep and was leaving. He came back in around 8AM to get something, and then around 9AM to grab pillows and other things. I realized that he had not slept at all. Poor guy.

So, he is obviously sleeping now. I am awake, but definitely don't feel fantastic. At a certain point, I just realized that sleeping more wasn't going to help. I am not hungover--but I am tired in the "I went to sleep at a ridiculous hour" way, which for me is only fixed by another full night's sleep starting at a more reasonable hour. So I am resigned to feeling gross and tired today.

I am not sure if I should try to fill out more job applications in my current half-alive state. I know that I definitely have to email my professor back. He offered Friday on campus--maybe I should just take him up on it. I don't know. I wish I could ask HIM what I should do, but he will be asleep for several more hours now. Maybe I will take a shower first to clear my head.

Pissy

I am in a shitty mood. I guess it started to head in that direction yesterday, so that is where I will start.

There was rain in the forecast yesterday, so instead of going to the lake, we decided to go to an art museum downtown. We spent a good four hours there, and it was really nice. He was cranky off and on all day, but I could handle it, since I knew that he got up earlier than he was used to. I just took it in stride, and avoided conflict.

We got out of the museum around 4:30, and hadn't eaten anything all day. We found this German restaurant/bar near the museum. He wanted to drink a few beers before deciding anything about food. We wound up sitting at the bar for 2-3 hours. I actually didn't mind, because we were still having a good time. After 2 1/2 beers, I was fairly tipsy and started getting moody. It is inevitable when I drink with him. The whole alcohol-as-truth-serum syndrome. We were talking about restaurants, and he mentioned a fairly expensive one that we probably shouldn't spend the money on. When I pointed out the money issue he said, "Well, maybe when our parents come to move us out, we can all go." That little reminder of the inevitable end was enough to put me in a funk. I didn't get all-out moody though. I realized that if I did that I would bring his mood down too. So I tried to keep as upbeat as possible. But, of course, I am so bad at hiding my emotions and he could clearly tell that I was upset. To make matters worse, I was starting to get really, REALLY hungry--which usually turns me into a cranky bitch.

We finished our drinks and went to catch the train home. By the time we got back, I was starving, and in a full out pissy mood. I pretty much just went silent and unresponsive on him. I guess it is better than having a loud meltdown. We picked up food and came back to my apartment. We ate, and my mood improved pretty much right away. Of course, his mood had gone downhill with all of my crankiness. I spent the rest of the night trying to get him out of his bad mood. Eventually we went to sleep.

When we woke up today, his mood seemed better, but he was still a little cranky. I was feeling okay--until I called my Mom to say happy birthday. My Mom started bothering me AGAIN about what I am doing after the summer, where I am going to be, etc, etc. It is seriously driving me crazy. I am already stressed out enough about it. Having her on my back is only making it harder for me to get my ass in gear with this job search. The stress almost paralyzes me. So that shot me right back down into a bad mood. When my mood first started, he was attentive, and tried to comfort me and talk to me--exactly what I do for him when he is in a bad mood. Then I asked him to go to the store with me (I knew he needed stuff too, and I didn't feel like buying all of my stuff and his stuff). He agreed, but was visibly irritated by the fact that I had asked him to come to the store, and also to return the movies, which HE rented on MY Blockbuster account, and which were already several days overdue. Basically, he was being really childish about the whole thing. That pissed me off even more.

We got to the plaza with the grocery store, and he told me that he was just going to go to Walgreen's and buy cigarettes and then return the videos. I thought he would be going to the store with me. But, whatever, I could deal with it. So I asked him what he wanted for food. He said that he didn't know. He wouldn't come up with any ideas for dinner at all. I wanted to buy something then, because I didn't want to have to run back out to the store later when he finally decided what he was in the mood for. For some reason, his unwillingness to even come up with an idea made me mad. I said, "You know, I handle your bad moods a lot better than you handle mine," which is completely true. He said, "Yeah, you're right, it is completely uneven," and then walked away from me. I fucking hate it when he walks away from me.

Yes, I know that I should not have taken my bad mood out on him like I did. I know that I could have handled all of that better--but I'm not really sorry, because what I said was completely true. When he is in a bad mood, I do whatever it takes to help him out of it. I make him meals, I give him back rubs, I watch movies that I have absolutely no desire to watch because he wants to see them, I go to the store for him to buy whatever he is in the mood for, I listen to his problems for as long as he wants to talk about them--I do anything and everything to make him feel better. He obviously doesn't do the same for me. He could have just fucking told me what he wanted me to buy for dinner. I wasn't asking him to buy it, or cook it, or shop for it--just give me a damn suggestion. Seriously.

So that is where it is at right now. I am pissed off. And I know that it goes deeper than this little incident. I am angry at him in general. Last night, when we were at the bar, he went to the bathroom and I was just sitting there spacing out. I just kept thinking, I am so angry with him. He doesn't value me. He doesn't deserve me. He is going to regret letting me go. It probably isn't even true, but I couldn't help thinking it. I am ANGRY. And he keeps saying things that make it hurt more.

The other night, we were watching a movie, The Other Boleyn Girl. In response to one of the scenes of the movie he said, "It must be really hard to have sex with someone you don't love." That, of course, implies that he doesn't do that. That he only has sex with women he loves. It implies that he loves me. And it hurt me. Because it is unfair. Because it doesn't change anything. Because things like that are the closest he ever comes to actually saying that he loves me. Because this whole situation is FUCKED.

This damn situation with him is all I can think about. I feel like shit. I need to look for a job, but I really couldn't care less about that at the moment. I just hurt. I guess it all comes down to him never really showing me that he cares. Not saying it, not handling my bad moods, not being the first one to try to end a fight, not fitting me into his future--not doing the things that really matter.

But that is just how it is. I can't change it. I just need to deal with it. I know I just need to toughen up. I will just read a nice novel today and try to relax. I will worry about the job search tomorrow.