September 06, 2011
Making up
You know, every time I decide that I'm ready to leave, that I'm going to walk out that door and never look back, something happens to prevent that and makes me want to stay.
Last night I was in a foul mood. I had things to say, angry things, and knew I would say them out loud. So I used some liquid encouragement in the form of Red Stag, Jagger, and Vodka to help me out a little. I turned up my iTunes, poured some shots, and waited for TJ to come home. By the time he got back, I was a grand mix between pissed and giggly and couldn't decide which state I prefered to be in. So I simply alternated between the two. He knew I was upset, too. Knew it before he left and knew that's what he'd probably find when he got back, though the drinking might have been a little bit of a surprise. I don't remember how I confronted him. Knowing myself, I probably did my best to ignore him at first. Listen to my little playlist while thinking how to approach the situation. But of course, he tried to comfort me. He kept touching me, and trying to tickle me. He hugged me and tried playing with me. I couldn't keep a steel face to save the world. Then he started writing his name on my foot and on my hand like the stupid idiot he is. He even brought me home burned copies of Game of Thrones, the bastard. Perhaps finally he pleaded with me to talk to him since I kept pulling away from his touch and I'm sure I had some snide remark about how there was nothing to talk about. He was just stringing me along, didn't want to form anything real with me, and kept me at a distance from him, all the while my feelings were becoming stronger and stronger for God only knows what reason. I think I might've told him he should've just let me be a fuck instead of bringing me in deeper by introducing me to all his friends and family and playing house for the past five months. That way I could put him in a speciall box in my head. The box where I'm allowed to like him, but where I wouldn't really want to be with him. It would be easier that way for me. Then he could've just been Zach's replacement, right? Then I could love hima nd hate him but always know that it wouldn't ever be anything other than temporary. But he keeps doing nice things for me and we spend so much time together it's hard for me to put him in that box.
So where are we at? Exactly where we were before. The talk was utterly pointless, though somehow afterwards led to some pretty hot and intese moments and once we settled down and went to bed it was probably one of the most content moments of my life.
But that contentness is only a lie. And the sooner I can wrap my head around that, the better. Why is it so hard for me to leave him? We aren't even together! So why can't I just pick up and go? Honestly, besides thae fact that I really do enjoy his company, I think it's because I'm not really looking for love with him. I think I want his companionship until I decide to hopefully move to grad school next year. So I guess in my mind's eye I don't understand what the big deal about continuing to do what we have been doing is. Clearly he doesn't plan on going off with someone else. He still talks about all these things he wants to do with me and he still invites me over (even though he said he wasn't going to do it as often anymore; what a joke). So really, what is so bad about thsi friends with benefits thing we got going on? He doesn't want to be my boyfriend? Fine! But I'd rather stick with him for awhile than go back on the market. Between Bouncer and Tuf texting me, I just don't feel like dealing with it.
But man. Last night was probably the best making out we've ever done. I don't think I've ever been more attracted to him than what I was last night. I don't know if it was the alcohol or my pent up frustration, but I wouldn't mind having nights like that more often.
But it is such a shame, diary. I really could love him if he would let me. But why would I want to love someone that doesn't want my love...
scullerymaid at 5:04 p.m.