Something is gonna explode...

But what? Head? Heart? Uterus? What an exciting game of wait-and-see for me!

Sometimes I think I'm certifiable. I know I'm not, cause if I was I wouldn't consider it as a possibility. Still, though...

Was he right? Is it self-pity? At least he called it Irish self-pity, which sort of takes some of the responsibility offa me, like. I can't help it, you know, I was born this way.

I do have a certain predisposition to tragedy. Which sucks. I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way. It's certainly intense, tragedy. Nothing much comes from it except tears. If you had asked me 5 years ago I would have said self-awareness comes from it - but even then I would have followed up with self-awareness doesn't really do anything except make you aware of why you do the stupid things you do. There is no ounce of prevention in self-awareness. Unless I've been doing it wrong. But that can't be - I'm so good at it.

6 October: I don't want to see other people. He doesn't know if he can handle that. Because he likes to sleep with lots of girls.

By then I had already thrown myself into Sextober in an attempt (a super well thought out and mature one) to prove that sex is just sex and what I have with him is way more than that. *Note to self - I already knew what was going on with him. And it was not just sex. I was only half conscious (and remain, to a certain extent, half conscious) of the fact that it was also a defense mechanism. Whatever, I'm grown, I'ma do what I wanna. Yeah. Still, don't feel bad about it. I'm a grown woman. I can do what I want. Was it the best approach? No. Was it the scared approach? Si, certo. He doesn't need me, fine, see? I don't need him either...

27 October: Our friendship is theoretical because we've only ever seen each other in our respective homes and he can't divorce our great conversations from our kinda mutually neurotic ("not the right word btw") sexual relationship. Okay, is there some sorta Madonna/whore thing going on here? And if we don't do other things it's cause he's relegated us to late night lonely insomniacical companionship - which doesn't always include sexy time.

I'm not what I would describe as conventional. I never seem to do things in the right order. I was with junkie ex-boyfriend for 9 years. That was the longest one night stand ever, I think. Cause that's what it started as. So yeah, this is what I was trying to get him to admit - that there is this intense intimacy. And that is as real or whatever as whatever... I don't have words for this, at this point. Do I love him? Gods help me, I do. Fuck me fuck me fuck me...

And, further: he wants to bed at least one of the recent college graduates he knows cause they share a certain emotional retardation. But he's seriously looking for someone to be monogamous with. What? So are you or aren't you? And why are you telling me this? And why get upset when I accept what you are telling me as is? I mean, you just told me that, right? I believe you. Of course between you and me, I know there's a load of bullshit in these conflicting statements... but that is not for me to point out. He's responsible for him, I'm responsible for me. Whatevs.

Um, hello? I'm right here. Why again am I excluded from being the one you want to be monogamous with? Cause you're saying one thing and then acting a completely different way... And how can you be doing both - being slutty and desirous of monogamy? I know he feels the same thing I'm feeling. Scared are you? I don't know what else could be going on with him.

And then we drive around and he takes me back to his place and its so obvious that something serious is happening between us its ri-goddam-diculous.

And he has my Siouxsie and the Banshees CDs. Which is whatever. At this point I'm ready to give him all kinds of stuff just so that I know I'll get to see him again if for no other reason than to get my stuff back. But I accidentally left $20 there. And I'm pretty destitute. So I need that back.

And tonight was stupid almost Halloween. Actually it was last night, as its 7:44 in the a to the m. The streets of Minneapolis were rife with slutty and I'm sure he brought someone home.

Or did he? Cause he's really not the player I think he wants me to think that he is. But it was almost Halloween, which is like getting laid at a wedding. In that it's easy to do.

Ugh. Why? Why is this so fecking complicated? It's not me, it's really not. Its totally him.

Here's how I see it: people meet and hang out and see other people, that's dating. Or whatever. If something develops then a meeting is held to discuss moving on to a mutually exclusive pair bond. I'm there. I have no idea where he's at. It's not me subjugating my needs cause I won't demand him to "be my boyfriend" - its actually quite magnanimous of me. I'm okay with where things are now.

And of course clearly I'm not. I'm not okay with his telling me "don't forget I'm an asshole," - cause that's the lamest cop-out ever. He's a fool, and he may act like an asshole, but just because he's in the middle of his life and isn't ready to whatever does not him an asshole make.

What I would like is for him to just relax and enjoy it. It doesn't have to be about what's gonna happen, it can just be what it is.

And don't think you need to tell me that "you're going to break my heart" cause I knew that the moment I first sat on your couch.

This post was not gonna be about him, goddammit. Whoops.

I don't know life. I hate this blog. I hate not sleeping. I hate being vulnerable but recognize it as a good exercise in living. At least I try. At least, against all better judgement, I put myself out there.

Love. Right? Such a lonely mind fuck of a situation. But I'm powerless over it. I really wouldn't have it any other way. I rued the day I met him for all of like 30 seconds. At least I can carry him with me, even though memories pale in comparison to the moment. Which is what I'm trying to enjoy, if he would just stay outta my way.

Okay, that's enough of that. It's too much - there is just too too tooo much going on in my head and its all introspective and interesting but what's coming out is frustration. Which is good, I suppose. Vomiting all the frustration on virtual paper to get it out - that's a healthy purge, right? I am proud of how I'm handing the situation, to an extent. I need to me more honest, and more vulnerable with him. I'm lying to everyone, myself most of all, with this "whatever I don't care I sleep with other dudes too" protective armor I've created. I have to be genuinely myself if I want this to work out whatever way it's supposed to work out. I have no control over him. All I can do is enjoy it for what it's worth (which is kinda a lot). Until such a time as it becomes not enjoyable, at which point I do what I gotta do.

Its just so pure, on some weird level. But then that brings me right back to the tragedy of it all.

Whatever. One thing I do know is I'm an archaeologist. And that is still like the most bad ass thing ever.

Enough. Maybe for my next post I'll ruminate on something anthropological. Perhaps something to do with Glastonbury and the creation/perpetuation of a proto-Christian-cum-British mythology that reflects or parallels the formation of a cultural identity. The role mythology plays in the creation of the identity of a State. Going all the way back to Roman syncretism. Or something like that.

Off ruminating,

KBO