08/29/00
"...it's as easy as it could be...in one instant, you'd be with me..."
"...lousy lovers pick their prey but they never cry out loud..."
Okay, I'm sorry. Someone e-mailed me and chastised me for writing this "I'm going to end it all" entry and then "disappearing" and accused me of trying to pull some sort of publicity stunt. You should all know me better than that. I'm still having internet problems at home (fucking piece of shit Pack Bell!!!) and I haven't had a hell of a lot of time to devote to this journal lately. Okay, plus it's been really fucking hot and my car doesn't have good AC and it's a bitch to drive all the way to the school just to assure people that I'm not in the ground in some midwestern cemetery. SO, I'M STILL ALIVE, OKAY, and I will most likely stay that way for a while. I lack balls, what can I say? But anyway, I'm sorry if I freaked anyone out.
Megan's still fucking her new gf. Merrily, I might add. She's just turned into quite the little social whore. Little Miss Party All Da Time is never home and when she does show up, it's typically between 1:30 and 4:30 in the morning. Which wakes the dogs, which wakes me. It's starting to seriously piss me off. She doesn't clean up after herself, she keeps me awake at night, she ignores her dog...it's like living with an evil teenage child I didn't give birth to. I want to hit her really hard...in the head...with a blunt object.
And I'm still seeing Zak. And I'm not sure where it's going but it seems to be going somewhere... I decided, after his mother's funeral, that I was going to lay off and let him call me. I wasn't going to chase, dammit, I was going to either be chased or nothing. And he did call. Nearly every night. Even when he got home too late to invite me over, he'd actually talk to me. Granted, the conversation was often just banter, but occasionally substance interjected itself. Saturday, he called me up and asked me what was for dinner. Then he told me he didn't have any money, so I told him "fine, I'll buy your sorry pathetic ass dinner." He's cooked for me a few times, so I really didn't mind at all. We had Middle Eastern and it was like, almost a real date or something. I didn't see him Sunday, I went to Cess Pool to see my sister and the wife beater's apartment (in the building I lived in when I was 17--"memmmmories...") and then spent the night cleaning my closet (yes, the whole night, I like clothes, okay?). Last night, he called me at 4:15 (I shouldn't even have been home, but I ditched work early because we didn't have much to do and that's the beauty of this job--come and go basically as you please). He asked me "would you be interested in joining me for dinner?" I said, "I don't know, am I buying?" No, he was cooking. And the man can actually cook. So I accepted, and as soon as I got to his house, I started getting cramps. Which was bittersweet. Sweet because we broke a condom on the 17th and I've been panicking ever since, bitter because, well, they're cramps. So I asked for ibuprofen and he watched in horror as I sucked down 6. Then it slowly dawned on him...and he was oddly sympathetic. Girls, if you have a man at your disposal, a lovely method of dealing with cramps is to lie on your side between their legs and have them put you in a scissor hold. It works fabulously.
The sex is getting different too. He started kissing me last night, much more slowly, much more softly than usual. And instead of some position from the Kama Sutra, we ended up clutching each other, cheek to cheek, ear to ear, and stayed that way for what seemed like a long time but not long enough afterward. Then when I left, he stood up, pulled me to him, and held me for several minutes before letting go.
Hmmm...could it be that he actually feels something (whatever it may be) for me after all?
I'm afraid to fall in love with him. Afraid because falling in love creates things like...me and Megan. My ex-husband. Stevie and Lindsey. Luke and Laura. You get the picture. When you ride the wave, you've eventually got to realize that gravity is still going to take over.
And yet, it may be too late. I may very well be in love with him already.
Shit, fuck, screw.
I can't think straight today. Any day. I've gone completely bonkers.
Megan told me once, not long ago, about a line in an Indigo Girls song that she said reminded her of me. "...you love like you're desperate..." Well, yes, I do. Because I so often feel desperate, that's why. And it disgusts me, because it feels so pathetic. This little girl, desperate for love, clutching anything that comes close like it's her last hope. Christ. How the hell do I stop doing that?
And now I'm falling in love again.
I'm going to call him now and see if he wants company. If he doesn't, I'll go home and read my homework. If he does, I'll go over to his house and try ever so hard, with all my might, not to be desperate.
But wait, there's more...