Rethinking

"... But never give your reasons; for your judgment will probably be right, but your reasons will certainly be wrong." 
- Lord Mansfield

I don't have to go to work today because I took it off in order to go to Sister Courage's birthday dinner. I am very excited to see all of my sisters again. I have missed them a lot lately. Also, I haven't met any of the Tau pledge class, and that feels pretty crappy. I feel like a terrible sister. I have to try to get to more events. The problem is, they always seem to happen when I am busy. I should organize my own event some time.

Right now, I am sitting in a computer lab on campus, thinking about the future. My plan was once to get a BA in History, do the Katimavik program, and then apply to theatre schools and hope that I could be accepted into a theatre company, or fall back on the History degree if nothing came of it. But now, I am seriously reconsidering all of this. At this very minute, it feels more appropriate to do some upgrading in the fall (specifically, Biology 120 and Chemistry 122, or their equivalents) and then do Katimavik in the spring, and start a BA in Nursing in September 2012. I could stay in this city for nursing, or I could leave. I don't feel any particular attachments to this area, only to the people in it - and if they are as important to me as I believe they are, we will stay in touch, no problem.

I think the biggest factor for me in choosing the school would be the price. UNBF would be the cheapest option for me, as I could still live at home. In Toronto though, Ryerson University sounds like its location would really open opportunities for career placement after graduation. Plus, it is Toronto - surely finding a new local theatre group would be pretty easy. And the tuition is roughly the same as UNBF, so I would only have to worry about cost of living. But that's not a decision I'll be making any time soon.

I made an appointment with Academic Advising for Friday, so that somebody can tell me what my chances are of getting in to a program somewhere and give me information on how to get the science credits that I didn't bother with back in high school.

As I did with the decision to drop the majority of my courses this semester, I am thinking this through without taking any real action yet. I have been thinking about nursing for at least twelve days now. One of my coworkers is in the UNBF nursing program and she loves it, and she talks it up all the time. It sounds so appealing. But I don't want to consider my reasons for why I keep thinking about nursing. That's why I chose the quote that I opened this entry with - I will probably make the right decision, but I could very well do it for the wrong reasons.

That L Word

"It has taken me a while to get used to this new feeling. When I woke up with a smile, oh I nearly started screaming that I love you!"
- The Pipettes, I Love You

I spent the night at Wrecking Ball's last night, which was excellent. After musical theatre rehearsal, he collected me and we went for a really long drive before the weekly T.V. night in Hamlet's dorm. We also went back to his place after that, but that isn't what I wanted to talk about in this entry (it is in the entry I just did, "Eight").

Our drive was wonderful. We did a lot of talking, and we shared some music. The sun went down as we drove, and at one point we pulled over so we could look at the beautiful colours. The sky was almost entirely clear, but there were a few wispy clouds in just the right portion of sky that the whole thing was just brilliant.

When we were on the way back into the city, he told me that he thought I might be the sort of person he could love. I told him I had the same feeling about him. Honestly, I've been thinking about that a lot lately - do I love him? I know I could. But do I? And if I thought I did, could I find the courage to tell him? After what happened with Cowboy, I'm not certain I could tell him for a long time. Let's see, it took me a month and a half to tell Cowboy after I knew, and that went badly. So Wrecking Ball, if tomorrow I realise I love you, I think I'll be telling you in, like, July. Haha.

Eight

"Lets go all the way tonight - no regrets, just love."
- Katy Perry, Teenage Dream

Tonight was the night.

I felt so happy that I cried. But I find that really embarrassing. Nobody wants their partner to cry after sex. I just felt so... respected. It's weird, but there are a lot of feelings that I associated with sex that I never realised until tonight, when I didn't feel them. I won't put the details on the internet, but basically I felt very cared for tonight, which was new. I told him he had ruined the sex I had had with other guys - "well, not really, but you've made me look at it differently." He laughed and said that was pretty much the number one thing any guy would want to hear after the first time with someone. It made me feel a bit less ridiculous for crying - at least my tears could have been flattering.

I have to say, that concern at the bottom of my list was surprisingly far from my mind. I was really pleased that I didn't fall back into that habit. I initially thought that the fact that I was trying to at least postpone the tears until after the sex may have distracted me enough to prevent it, but now I'm not so sure. When I think about how I felt during it all... I think I just felt more comfortable with him. It felt OK to enjoy it. And afterwards, he held me while I tried to compose myself, and while I laughed at myself, and I told him why I had started to cry, and it was easy. I just said it, like it wasn't that much of a big deal. Maybe I felt like, hey, you're already crying, could admitting the reason why be that bad? But I prefer to believe that it shows genuine progress on my part.

Oh lord. I still can't believe I cried. Haha.

"Can I say 7.5?"

"And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light. Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me..."
- Katy Perry, E.T.

I spent the night at Wrecking Ball's for the first time. It was excellent. Usually he just drives me home when we both start to doze off. Sleeping in his arms was absolutely excellent. So comfortable and warm. I think he held me the whole time I was asleep, which was very nice; I've always found it disorienting to fall asleep in someone's arms and then wake up on the other side of the bed. And we - imagine me starting to smile here - went beyond kissing. We didn't have The Sex, but what we did do was nice. I am not going to go into details, mainly because if someone wants those they can ask me. I was kind of nervous, but I think what put me the most at ease was him asking me to let him know if I changed my mind about wanting it. I said the same to him. As for how it was - imagine I'm still smiling.

Interestingly enough, the first person I told was Dance. We aren't the closest of friends, but we have been performing together since the tenth grade and we have been talking more and more with each show that we do. We somehow found out back in January that we had both slept with seven guys, and I joked that we should race to eight - she was interested in someone at the time, and they currently have some sort of complicated not-relationship thing going on. She made it to eight a while back. When I saw her today, I said "I spent the night with him last night. Not eight yet, but... can I say 7.5?" "No," she said laughing. "It's either eight or it isn't." I suppose she's right.

I'm going over to Jewel's tomorrow night. I'm really excited because I don't get to see her nearly as often as I would like.

So Much Parentheses!

"I know what I have. Do you know what you got? Jump on my train yeah, my little train of thought."
- Mother Mother, Train Of Thought

Yesterday, something horrific happened to me that has never happened before. I worried myself sick. Literally, physically sick. Eevee, Wrecking Ball, Hey Rosetta, Hamlet, Fuu, Silk and I were having our routine TV night (currently we are watching Firefly and The Misfits) and I was fretting over thoughts I will express in a moment. A pit of anxiety had been forming in my stomach all day, dreading a conversation I knew I would have to have. It had kept me awake until 7 am on Saturday night (the only reason I didn't blog about it then, was I wanted to make sure I said these things to Wrecking Ball before he could read them).

All through Firefly, I kept feeling my throat tense and my stomach jump. I was thinking to myself - are you really going to be sick? Are you insane? Then, shortly into the episode of The Misfits, my stomach lurched and I just Knew. I hopped up, hurried out of the room saying "Bathroom, I'll text when I need back in" (we were in the girls' wing of Hamlet's dorm and I didn't know where their bathroom is so I was going to the bathroom out in the main section of the building, where classes are, which would then mean I was locked out) and I sprinted down the hallway. I made it to the bathroom in time, but I was highly disgusted. I mean, first of all, nobody likes throwing up (personally, I get all teary whenever I do, because it is just so unpleasant) but mainly my issue was this: I can get anxious enough to be sick. This has never happened before, and it worries me. Anxiety issues have been becoming more and more obvious with me lately, and I fully intend to go to counselling for this and other things, but this was a new and frightening kind of feeling.

The root of my anxiety was some major inferiority issues. Wrecking Ball decided to read the rest of my blog (which didn't bother me at all, though I did have to cringe about the period thing in the last entry, haha) (and actually I reread the whole blog and cringed a few times, but whatever) and he was concerned about the Gaga entries. Understandable. He told his ex, and she tried to find this blog in order to see the entries, but instead she found Hey Rosetta's blog, which said something about Wrecking Ball's drunken week in Montreal and meeting a girl there with an expressive face. I haven't read the entry myself so I don't know how it was phrased, but basically it looked worse than it was. So WB and the ex (I feel like she needs a nickname but I don't know anything about her, so it's weird...) had a fight about that, and basically she told him that he needed to tell me about that before she did. Her intentions were supposedly to make me angry with him, too. But that backfired. After our conversation Saturday night, I actually felt as though WB is too good for me.

Firstly, his great big former relationship faux-pas was saying that he had not drank while he was in Montreal, even though he really had. This lie, although big for her since she had asked him not to drink, seems pretty inconsequential to me. I've done worse. In fact, that is my next point. My great big former relationship faux-pas was cheating on Acadia. Multiple times, with multiple people - one of these was even a prolonged affair. I was always honest about it after the fact, but then I would do it again. As I said to Wrecking Ball in a bit of a revelation, Acadia and I had, in our relationship (and after, too) a sort of on-going competition to see who could hurt the other more. Nobody wins a competition like that. My point with the comparison between what he did to her and what I did to Acadia is this: if that is the worst thing he has done, how could he possibly still want to be with me after hearing what I did? I spent a lot of Sunday worrying about this. I just knew that I couldn't not tell him. He needed to know the person I used to be. And I really, really needed him to believe with me that people change. I am no longer the sort of girl who will find herself alone with a boy and make sure that he wants her enough to take her. I am no longer the sort of girl who cheats on her boyfriend because she knows it will hurt both of them. Sometimes I still do some things to hurt myself, but I make sure that I'm not hurting anyone else in the process. (And no, Love, don't worry, I am not physically hurting myself, nor do I intend to.)

The next thing that made me feel like Wrecking Ball was too much of a good person for me was the fact that he still cares about his ex, and he felt bad that they had had this fight. Because me -  I hate Acadia. I do. I hate him so much that it hurts some times, and I hate that. I hate that I have the capacity to feel so much venom for someone, and I hate that I am actually feeling it. For someone whose name fills up so many spots on my list of firsts, he really should be more important to me. But whenever I think of him, I can only think of two things, and both memories are painful. The first was last March, when we had that fight and he said again that I feel no emotions, that I have never loved anyone and that I never will, and by the time we got to his place I ended up screaming at him that he isn't worth talking to, and then I found myself wandering alone around that stupid neighbourhood trying to hide the fact that I was crying, and the guy that I thought I was dating, Sin, wouldn't answer his phone. (I was originally going to name him Weed but that sounds too insulting. Sin sounds kind of hard core. I think he would like that.) The other memory is more recent: early in December, we drove around for a while, and he was talking about how he didn't have feelings for anyone, and I started to cry because I didn't want him to feel like that, and he said I didn't need to cry for him because I had Cowboy, and then I choked out that my relationship with Cowboy was dying fast, and then I was in hysterics. I have never cried so hard in my life. He had only seen me cry once before, and it wasn't like that. If it's not related to movies or books, I don't let people see me cry. But he didn't comfort me. He basically said I had brought it on myself.

I think I started rambling. I also paused my writing to do some searching on Google, and spent a few minutes spacing out and just listening to Mother Mother on my iPod, and so now I'm not sure if this all makes sense, but I have only a few minutes before the bus so I need to wrap this up.

Basically: I felt like Wrecking Ball's ability to still care for his ex and the fact that his big horrible thing was just a small lie like that made him to be a much better person than myself, the former whore who will be perfectly happy if she never speaks to or sees her ex again. I felt as though I wasn't good enough to be with him. To my relief, after pushing out some words about all this, he didn't hate me. He even said he didn't think less of me, which finally made my stomach relax.

Sex On The Table

"Let's break it down and talk about the lala..."
- Oceana, Lala

On Wednesday night, as I was drowsily snuggled into Wrecking Ball's arms, he brought up the topic of sex. I found myself very awake, very fast. Holy tits. My head is pounding I can't stop this pounding it feels like it's going to explode... (Kimya Dawson, Underground). I felt my throat close in that horribly inconvenient way that it does when it's time to talk about something Big. He told me he was nervous and outlined the reasons why. So then it was my turn to speak. Speak. Speak! I couldn't. Breathing was hard enough. Holy tits. My head is pounding I can't stop this pounding... I needed to remain calm and have a conversation like an adult. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Do you know what you want to say? What will you tell him, Horchata? You know exactly what your apprehensions are about sex, in fact just last night you typed up that blog post listing all the reasons why you're nervous to --

The list. I could show him the list! What a terrifying thought though. That would mean giving him permanent permission to access this blog - because I'm not going to say, "OK, here it is, you know exactly where it is, now never ever look at it again, even though I mention you all the time." That would be stupid, and kind of mean.

But then I realised, I don't want to feel like I am hiding anything. (Am I hiding anything? What if he doesn't like the way I make guys buy me drinks? I told him about Gaga, but what if, what if, what if...? And the way I talk about love! I have said I love him here. But I don't think I am IN love with him. Am I? I haven't said that to him yet. He could get the wrong impression. But... it is still the way I see things.) So I decided to take a deep breath and do it. I brought him to the Nymphophobia entry and let him read it. We talked about the things listed there and it was easier to keep breathing, keep going, once he had already read the entry. Admittedly, I would not have told him about the orgasm faking problem, because I wouldn't want him to worry about me faking them with him, especially after Acadia's reaction when I first admitted to it... But it was there, so it was there, and he knows.

When we were done talking, he said he wasn't sure the conversation had really accomplished anything. I said that I felt we had just put a lot of stuff on the table and now we were staring at it. But it had felt good to talk about it. You're supposed to talk about sex before it happens. I've heard it said, if you can't talk about it, you shouldn't be doing it. Well, that was the first time I've ever talked about doing it like this. It was nice, even if it did produce a massive internal anxiety attack. Even thinking about the conversation, my stomach feels tight... or maybe that's just because I'm being too stingy to buy myself lunch.

Last night, after the concert and before I went over to Love's for the night, we went to his place for a bit. I told Love I would be over at 1 - I think she was upset with me, and I still feel bad, though she was acting normal when I got there - so we had about an hour, which we spent making out fantastically. He said he had been thinking about it, and asked if I was interested in being brave - he was asking! Sex! Holy TITS! This time, my panic was entirely different. Because you see, I am on the rag. But I'm not ready to admit to him that I have a menstrual cycle. I just can't. I'm not ready to admit to having bodily functions! So to allow one of them to interfere with The Sex! What do I say?!

Then I realised - we have less than an hour at this point. Easy way out: "I think... we should wait until a night that we have more time." Problem solved! And besides that, a really good point. Haha.

If you are wondering why I would mention being on my period in this entry, while saying I don't want to admit to him that I have one, after saying that he has access to this blog - he has told me that he is not going to read it because he feels it would be cheating - gaining so much insight into the way I see things, without learning about the way I see things from talking to me.

Yes Yes Yes

"And when it all comes in it's the biggest thing, it's the blooming night in the white of your bright blue eyes"
- Hey Rosetta, Seeds

Last night I went to a Hey Rosetta concert with Wrecking Ball, Hamlet and, most importantly, my best concert buddy, whom I have already mentioned here and appropriately nicknamed her Hey Rosetta. It was the most WONDERFUL night. Watching Tim Baker perform is just magical. He is so passionate about his songs that at one point I almost had tears in my eyes.

During the concert, I watched Tim flick a guitar pick. I believe he intended it to go into the audience, but it went sideways. At the end of the concert, after the wonderful encore (which included my favourite song, Epitaph - this was where I almost had tears in my eyes, it is so powerful), I attracted the attention of the last band member to leave the stage, one of the guitarists. I pointed at it, made a triangle with my hands, pointed some more, yelling "THERE IS A GUITAR PICK. A GUITAR PICK! RIGHT THERE! CAN I HAVE IT? CAN I HAVE THAT GUITAR PICK?" The crowd was still cheering, and he started to walk away. I didn't think he had understood my request so I pointed and yelled some more. He came back, picked up the guitar pick and gave it to me along with a piece of paper that he had just retrieved from a side table.

That piece of paper was the set list. I was so happy! But I gave it to Hey Rosetta. She is the one who got me into the band, and if it wasn't for her I would not have been going. She was so happy! It felt really good to give it to her. Besides, I had already gotten the lead male vocalist from the opening act to give me his set list, dirty from his footprints and slightly illegible.

The whole night was just fantastic. I don't quite have the words to describe it. Hey Rosetta is one of my favourite bands. The only band that I like more right now is Mother Mother... and I am 87% sure I will be able to go see them perform over March Break! I am really excited. I am just waiting on Wrecking Ball to figure out if he can go or not. If he can't, I may still try to go - take a bus both ways and sleep... where? I hope I don't need to work that out.

Nymphophobia

"This could be our reward. This could be it. This could be our reward - this simple  Friday night, where you're loosening your tie..."
- Hey Rosetta!, There's An Arc

I am trying to understand why I am so nervous about moving beyond kissing with Wrecking Ball. I will now make a list of every reason that I have come up with so far, and then I will add a few more just to see what happens (a prof of mine, before I dropped the course, said that if you push and keep writing without knowing what you intend to say, you can really surprise yourself with the things you come up with).

- He has only been with one girl: what if I am not as good as she was?
- Our relationship now is so simple and good. Like my dad and experience have told me, sex changes things. What if they don't change for the better?
- What if we turn into Acadia and I - just fucking because we are bored, or because we feel like it is what we're supposed to do? I guess this is an extension of the above.
- What if he isn't ready but he lets it happen anyway and then he regrets it? I don't ever want to be someone he regrets.
- I'm not even sure I am ready for this. I feel almost like a virgin again. Fuck, Cowboy and I did it on the first date. The longer Wrecking Ball and I wait, the more I feel like it is going to be a Big Deal, and I have never let sex be that. It is a level of physical intimacy above anything else, yes. But I don't tie emotions to it as much as most people do. Well, except for the feelings of being validated, of being real, of being wanted - read Loose Girl if you haven't. I have the same feelings she does.
- Sex is really taking our relationship up a level. I have this crippling fear of fucking us up. Once we have had sex, the collapse of the relationship becomes more painful. I don't want him to hurt like that. Simple solution is to not fuck things up, I know. But... I don't know... I don't trust myself.
- I'm just scared something will go wrong, because I have this built up a lot in my mind. Sex with Wrecking Ball has the potential to be earth shattering. When I had sex with Dragon last year, it was explosive despite the fact that he wasn't good (he stuck it in my ass. Without asking. Without lube.) and I believe this was because of how long I had wanted it. It will be the same with Wrecking Ball, only I have been told he is good. So, try as I might to avoid this, my expectations are high. Very high. Like, I think I actually expect an orgasm.
- I am afraid I will fake an orgasm. I do this a lot. It started with Acadia. He fingered me at a school dance and I was worried I would be too vocal if I let him really finish me, so I faked a small, quiet one, and that made him stop. That was a lesson I took to heart: if I gasp and squeak and tighten my muscles, he stops touching me. And I did love him, and I did want him to touch me, but for some reason I didn't want him to finish me, so I would fake it and he would stop. I am not incapable of experiencing an orgasm or even multiples with a partner - if the guy doesn't stop after I have faked one I do get one. But faking them became a habit. I have faked them with every male sexual partner that I have had (my affair with Love was before my revelation about stopping the action, but I trust her so much, I probably still wouldn't fake it with her). I don't want to fake it with Wrecking Ball. But I think that makes me more afraid than anything else. I don't think I know how to have sex without faking an orgasm. There have been many sexual encounters that I have had in which I could not tell you for sure whether or not I had finished. I just don't want that with him though. It isn't fair to either of us.

Reasons #4 and #7 (if I counted right... I meant him regretting it and me expecting too much) were a surprise to me. I didn't realise I was concerned about those things until now. I guess that prof was right.

I have a wonderful fantasy about really doing this. I can see it in my mind. It is dark in his room, the bed is rumpled because we have been making out. I can imagine his fingers on my bare skin, my arms, my sides, tugging at my pants. If I try hard I can feel my own fingers trailing down his chest, working at his belt. Our hair in our faces but we ignore it because we'd rather pay attention to one another's mouths. His scent, his warmth. The feeling of his skin on mine. Then the fantasy gets a lot less sensual - I know what a penis feels like, but I don't know his, and imaging a random dick just doesn't feel right. But I imagine our rhythm... our hands...

Despite the fact that I found eight very good reasons why I am not ready to have sex with him, that fantasy is like a small heaven in my mind. I visit it a lot. That's probably why I'm so concerned about my expectations.

Valentine

"Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer."
- Metric, Help, I'm Alive

Yesterday was the best Valentine's Day that I have ever had. One year, Acadia surprised me by delivering flowers to my house when I wasn't home, so that I thought he wasn't doing anything until I got home after the high school dance, tired and upset (I don't remember why - I think I had been arguing with my dad on the drive home - I just remember that I was pissed off and had a strong urge to throw those stupid roses. I don't like flowers.) and there they were on the table, and it was a really sweet gesture, and I absolutely hated it.

I don't know why, but I have always had a strong dislike for Valentine's Day. I don't really talk about it though. I didn't even say anything about that to Wrecking Ball - I just crossed my fingers and hoped that he wasn't going to do anything. On Sunday night, he said that he would normally do something, but he wasn't feeling up to it. I assured him this was no issue and was, in fact, exactly what I wanted from him.

Yesterday when I finished work, I had a text from him that said he considers himself healthy again and is free for kissing (we hadn't been kissing on the mouth, just the cheek, since he has been sick since the Thursday that I mentioned in the entry before last). With her permission, I invited him over to Love's. I think it took him a while to be comfortable. Love and I did most of the talking. Eventually, Love settled in to her essay and Wrecking Ball and I cuddled on the couch, listening to music and talking about The Walking Dead comic books. It was wonderful.

He tried to leave and ended up getting his car stuck in the snow that the plow had pushed into the driveway. He came back inside to wait for his stepdad to be waking up (it was around 6am) and I fell asleep on his lap. I barely remember it. When I woke up this morning, actually, I was really confused as to why I was fully dressed on the couch and not undressed and in Love's bed as I usually would be. I remember him stroking my hair, and I squirmed to try and be closer to him, and he stopped but I didn't want him to and then he kept going. I think I told him to do so. Not sure though.

Falling asleep with him was everything I had hoped it would be, though being in his arms would have been better still.

Get Happy

"But you look so good when you're laughing you know, yeah you look so good when you let it show."
- Hey Rosetta, Red Heart

It is 4 am. I am entirely in a Seasonal Affective Disorder spiral now. I don't want to do anything but eat junkfood or starve myself, lay in bed or sit on a bus. I could ride a bus for hours in this mood. The feeling of being in transit is always one that I enjoy, especially if I am alone.

This is difficult. I failed today. I didn't go to class - the one class I'm still taking - and worse, I didn't go to a counselling appointment up at the university. I just chickened out and let myself stay in bed.

I try to be happy. I do. It's just so hard. I don't know how to get help. I just don't have the will to do anything. Doing anything that won't be instantly pleasurable (such as going to musical theatre practice, which today was actually a giant piss-off and not a comfort) feels like a chore. I feel like I need some kind of live-in nurse or something. Someone to tell me, "You need to get out of bed now, sweetie." Someone who will cook me a nice healthy breakfast instead of letting me eat a piece or two of my dad's birthday cake. Someone who will give me a hug.

Cuddling Wrecking Ball tonight gave me a sensation as close to happiness as I have felt in two days that feel like an eternity. Our relationship is really too new for me to put all this heaviness on him. I don't want to burden him with the extent of my depression. But if I don't tell him about all these horrible feelings, how can he cope with me? My perceived distance? All I will want soon is to be in his arms but I will be too afraid to ask. I need to tell him this is going to happen but with every passing second my throat is closing. I am surprised I can even have normal conversations at this point, so bringing up feelings is pretty much out of the question.

Fading Desire

"So maybe I seem loose to you, but I don't even want to screw, and I did once, but I don't now..."
- Kimya Dawson, Caving In

So, I seem to have fallen off the blog train or something. I keep intending to write and then I don't. It's hard to write when I feel the way I do. Seasonal Affective Disorder. I feel grey. Many days, like today, I just feel like I want to lie down. Not do anything. Just lie down and, I don't know, stare blankly at a wall, maybe listen to music because I'm sure I'd get bored if I indulged the urge and stopped doing everything and just lay there.

On Sunday I went over to Wrecking Ball's. He wasn't feeling well and we did a lot of cuddling. I...

Wow, I haven't written in a while, I didn't mention Thursday. Well. I guess I should go there first.

I got a tattoo on Thursday: the Latin word "amavi" followed by a heart, which means "I have loved." I have a lot of meaning for this but I am so tired my head hurts I just want to get this entry done. I went to Wrecking Ball's house in the evening and we watched some episodes of The Misfits, which is an excellent show, and then we started kissing and it got very intense and I took a risk and I undid his belt, but I did it very slowly - one movement at a time. He undid my pants as well. I was afraid to go farther then. I don't know why, but I was apprehensive. I had my hand in his pants but I wasn't touching him, when he said he was feeling lightheaded. I lay beside him and we talked while he tried to regain his senses, relief coursing inexplicably through me. I wanted sex so much. I still want it. He is always on my mind. Why was I relieved when he said he wasn't feeling well?

On Sunday when I was over, it was entirely cuddling. We didn't even kiss on the lips, because he didn't want me to catch what he has. It was fantastic, and he enjoyed it too. It confuses me. What could I possibly be afraid of? I have had sex before. It's not like it's something of which I'm afraid. In fact, I'm rather... easy. "Loose" is the term I prefer (Kerry Cohen, Loose Girl, you have to read it... though I think Love is the only person who reads this and it is her book... still. I send this recommendation out universally. Read it!) but to someone who doesn't know where I get that word it could sound like an insult, as in the opposite of tight. Heh.

Too tired to function. The point I was getting at here: I seem to not be ready to have sex with WB and that confuses me, but I have no theories yet as to why I don't feel ready.

I Confess, I Am Terrible

"But I'm young, and I'm pretty, and that's all that you need."
- Scouting For Girls, Famous

As I write this, Love is beside me. She is so close that our legs are touching. Well, I guess I am that close to her:  she is against the arm of the couch and I am the one imposing myself into her personal space. It is weird writing this while sitting beside her. I know she reads this, but for some reason I feel like I should just say all these thoughts now instead of letting her see them later. But then, as I typed that, I realised if I could talk about things face-to-face with the same ease that I can type them, I probably wouldn't have this blog.

Tonight, I hid in Love's room while Cowboy was over. He doesn't want to see me, but we (Love and I) really didn't want me to go as early as I would have had to if I left before he got here. So, I hid in her room. I don't know what I did. I was in there for about 3 hours. I know I spent a half an hour testing out the vibrator I bought this afternoon (holy tits!), but that is the only amount of time that is actually accounted for; the rest of the time is just lost now. Spark came home eventually and she came in and sat with me and we talked over MSN. We even turned our webcams on to make sure we could see each other. It was quite funny. Cowboy was - and will forever be - completely oblivious to my presence.

Apparently, while I was chilling in Love's bedroom, my ex was trying to make moves on her. On some level, we can both understand that he is quite lonely and is probably just looking for a revenge fuck. But Love is quite displeased that he was trying that on her. As for myself, I don't know. I know what it feels like to be lonely. I also know that sleeping with my best friend is probably the lowest thing he could do, and it could not be unintentional. That makes me mad. That makes me want to hurt him. And that scares me.

I remember dancing with him a few weeks ago. I remember knowing, but not admitting, that it would cause him pain to let him dance with me like that. I think I was aware all night that even talking to him could lead to nothing good. So why would I do that? Do I really want to intentionally cause him pain? I must be a terrible person if that is the case. But... I don't feel bad... The way in which I feel the worst is the way that I am aware that I should feel very bad about these emotions, and yet I don't.

When I was with Acadia, I know I tried to hurt him. But he was hurting me. Is that justification enough? An eye for an eye, right? I don't think that makes it OK. I think this is probably a very serious issue that needs to be addressed somehow. But how can I talk to anyone about this? Any time discussion borders on emotions that are deep and painful (even if they are not my own), my stomach knots into a pit of anxiety and, usually, my throat closes so that I feel as if no sound would come out should I try to push out words. The only way for me to communicate at that point is the written word.

I can't exactly pass notes with a therapist.

Making The Move

"All I needed to do was get just a taste of you."
- Pink, Heartbreak Down

Last night, I saw The King's Speech with most of the usual suspects - Hey Rosetta, Eevee, Silk, Fuu and Wrecking Ball. Hamlet didn't go because he had already seen it and doesn't like to spend money, and I don't know about Beast but he is never around on Sundays. I walked into the theatre from the wrong side and couldn't sit beside Wrecking Ball because it would have been weird and awkward to walk the whole way around to sit beside him, especially since Eevee was already sitting down. I was very aware through the whole movie that I wasn't beside him. It was torturous.

I rode in the trunk on the way from the mall to Eevee's house and it was excellent (the car only had room for five). Wrecking Ball did some drifts for me, even though Eevee was absolutely terrified, just so he could hear me hooting and laughing through the trunk. He told me later that he was living vicariously through me there.

I found myself without my house keys, so I arranged to go to Love's place for the night. First, I went to Wrecking Ball's for a few glorious hours. I had intended to make A Move last night (I even matched my underwear to my bra for a boost to my confidence and sexiness!) but I didn't. Instead we had a good serious talk about how he feels like "the junior partner" because he has only had one other relationship and I have had a few. We talked, we cuddled, we made out.

The extent of my attempt at Making The Move was to tug at his belt and then chicken out and put my hand back on his waist. Haha. Real intense.