RFotD:
American car horns beep in the tone of F.

Weight:
105.6 lbs .... ugh.

Consumption:
a bowl of an indian style risotto dish for breakfast
a mini bag of doritos
a granny smith apple
five (!!!!!) tacos (seriously... and I wonder why I'm getting so obese!)

Aimless Ramblings:
"Do you really think that way about me? That I never do anything nice for you?"

In a word, yes. I do think that way about him.

But it’s a little more complicated than that. I don’t dislike him. I don’t think that he does anything extraordinarily disagreeable, or intentionally avoids doing anything nice for me. And when I say that I like him less each day, I don’t mean that I am beginning to dislike him... I just feel as though we are drifting away from being friends towards being "common and indifferent acquaintances." I don’t feel that I have reason to particularly enjoy his company any more. We still talk, and hang out, and act as though everything is exactly the same: as though nothing has happened at all. And I can’t speak for him, but I hate it. I think it’s awkward and uncomfortable. Which is why I turn into that girl around him: the girl I hate. I laugh at inane comments that aren’t at all funny, because what I really want to do is to cry. And I make snide, bitter comments that project my anger at myself as resentment towards him.

When we first met, he was genteel and charming, gentle and witty, sensitive and considerate... he lavished attention on me: from the incessant exchange of text messages and emails, to the suggestive looks and comments at work; from the all-night MSN conversations to the lunchtime "walks;" from the nightly drink-ups to the boyish grin that would light up his face when he saw me.. he made me feel attractive, physically and intellectually, as well as sexually.

I was wary... and yet I was vulnerable. I wanted so much to believe that I was going to be okay. Alex had ripped my heart out, and stomped on it before spitting on it and walking away. I wanted to believe that I could pick myself up, dust myself off, and get on with my life, without so much as looking back. When Alex dumped me, I felt like my life was over; as though I no longer had any reason to persevere. I was terrified that all my fears about intimacy had ultimately been proven to be true.

Then he came along, and made me feel wanted and alluring.. we grew so close: I could share my thoughts with him; we could be intimate on an intellectual level. He endeared himself to me. He called me "Princess" and "Kitten"... he confided in me that he missed me; that he was a tad jealous about the idea of my being with other guys; he told me that he thought about our chemistry... we had chemistry... that was what he made me believe. We clicked in so many ways: we had similar interests; similar goals and ambitions; similar tastes... we understood each other's backgrounds and lifestyles... we had unbelievable sexual compatibility.

It seemed too good to be true. Everything about him, and us, raised a red flag: warning me that he was TOO charming, TOO comfortable, TOO confident... warning me that he was playing me... warning me that I was setting myself up to get hurt. I didnt want to hear it. I didnt want to believe it. I ignored the voices and dove in, head first.

And (I suppose it was inevitable) I ended up heartbroken once again. Except.. not by him. I was more disappointed in myself. I practically jumped into bed with this guy. Contrary to everything I said I wanted; everything I thought I believed in. He barely even had to try to get me to agree. And the minute I slept with him, he lost interest. He insists that this wasnt the case, but really, that's what it feels like. As soon as the "objective" of getting me into bed was achieved, he lost all interest. The charm, the consideration, the attention... it all disappeared. It was replaced by an attitude of disdainful superiority..

There's a part of me that insists that this is all for the best; that I should have trusted my gut instinct to not get involved, and be glad that it didnt amount to anything. But on the other hand, I cant help hoping that we'll eventually work something out.. figure out our own lives, and establish how we can give things between us a fair chance.

When we first talked about where we stood, and what we wanted, we agreed that we werent ready for "the level of emotional intimacy that would be involved with a regular sexual relationship" but also agreed that we were attracted to one another, and that we needed to give ourselves time to get to know each other, rather than putting our lives on the fast-track, and trying to create a relationship that was "bright and shiny without any real foundations." So, I thought, we would continue to spend time together; continue to socialize; and proceed to learn more about ourselves and each other.. not even dating: going back to being friends.. and somehow, that fell apart. Sometimes it seems like we can barely tolerate each other. The lighthearted banter seems to have morphed into vicious verbal sparring; the casual flirtation has developed into a deep-seated resentment. I dont know what happened; I dont understand what changed. Apart from the sex. Can sex, when both parties agree that it was a mistake, really change everything so much? Will things ever go back to the way they were? Will we ever be friends again? Will we ever get a chance to see if there was anything more? Will we at least stop saying and doing things to hurt each other?

Or was it really all just a challenge to you? Did you just want to see if you could get me into bed? We joked about studies in the interest of science... was that all I was to you? An EXPERIMENT? Was I merely a test case to see whether you still had "it"... to see whether you would be able to charm me into bed? I don't know. I'm not sure I'll ever know...

So, to go back to the original question: Yes, Adrian, I do feel that way about you.

Mood Tracker:
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