cringe

BrainsDude: kiss

SeineGchat: hello

BrainsDude: you didn't even flinch?

SeineGchat: i scrunched my nose

BrainsDude: cute! didn't notice it, i was too close ;)

SeineGchat: sigh. you're incorrigible

BrainsDude: meeeeeee? *puppy look*

SeineGchat: doesn't work with me, sorry

BrainsDude: what did i do now?

(You just made me cringe. Hard to explain why.)

Care

A big group of ~20 of us went away for the long weekend to a lake cabin in New Hampshire. As these things usually go, I drove a full car of people there and back. On the way up, I had zero excitement. Instead of talking to my whole car of passengers, I wanted to blast indie rock and cry loud sobbing cries from my gut about College Ed.

Adding insult to injury, two of my three passengers were friends whom I had actively tried to avoid for the last couple of weeks because they've recently started to seriously grate on my nerves. But the trip organizer didn't know that. He likely thought he was doing me a favor by putting my friends in my car as opposed to the alternative of random fringe acquaintances.

I drank very little the whole weekend and mostly sat in the background listening to others chatter and banter and play drinking games. One guy, Mish (50% of the car crew who has been annoying me), commented at some point about how quiet and pensive I seemed, compared to my "normal" self.

I wanted to slap him and scream, "Just who do you think you are?? How dare you claim to know my 'normal' self. You've only known me for a year - there are so many sides of me you can't even begin to know."

I made it a point to be out on the water as much as possible. Sailboats are fast and quiet, canoe paddles rhythmically melodic, and even the whirring of a motorboat engine drowns out all other noise and ironically creates its own sense of serenity because I didn't have to be in anyone else's world but my own. All of them were perfect balances of peace amidst distractions, and my mood gradually improved through the weekend, and I thought about College Ed less and less.

On Saturday though, I did drink a lot. Per tradition for four years now (though this is my first year on the trip), on the Saturday of each cabin trip, everyone plays a silly drinking game involving beers in cans. When someone finishes his/her beer, the empty can gets duct taped to his/her accumulated "Magician's Staff," essentially all of the empty cans of beers that person has gone through up until that point. Plenty of smack talk ensues, and each person carries with them their "staff" as a constant public record of the size of their dick.

Only silly boys can come up with silly games like this.

Nevertheless, I duct taped my empty beer cans together and amassed an empire - more than anyone had ever seen for a girl, and more than most of the boys had on their "staffs" by the end of the night. And I have to say, regardless of how blue I may have felt going into this, that many beers just cannot keep me down. Silly drinking games exist for a reason: they're silly and completely entertaining, especially when drunk.

Until cleanup time on Monday.

Our 15 or so staffs of ~20 duct taped beer cans each all sat in a heap outside, and we had to trash them all.

"Wait, why wouldn't we recycle these?" I asked.

"We can't," someone said, "They have duct tape all over them."

"But we can take all the duct tape off!" I protested.

"Ummm, are you crazy Seine? Do you know how many cans there are, and how long that would take?"

"I don't care!" I pleaded. "There are 20 of us here. We put the staffs together, we can take them apart to recycle."

But no one else cared. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I wanted to cry all over again, and thoughts of College Ed came flooding back. And then thoughts of Broadway. Broadway would have never played this game. And if he were with a group of people who did, he would make them take all the duct tape off to recycle the cans.

I realized then and there that I could never date any of the boys in this group, no matter how tempted I might have been at times (e.g. Special Friend) and no matter how many of them might be interested in me (I think 3 currently, but I'm also the only single girl in the group right now).

I want a boy with enough care and kindness to protest trashing duct taped cans. I want a boy who feels enough responsibility to not want to play this game anymore unless there were a better solution. I'll even take the boy who stands up out of the crowd to support me when I voice an opposition to want to recycle.

None of these boys are any of that. Ultimately, it's not about the cans or duct tape or even recycling, but it's about how much care they actually feel toward the world around them. To these boys, at least now, the world is still mostly just fun and games.

And I'm done with considering that. But at the very least, now I know what I want.

And the neurosis sets in

College Ed dated his ex for six years, which was, verbatim from his mouth, "probably four years too long." Then, as if he regretted the implications of what he had just said, he added, "But don't get me wrong, that's not to say she isn't fantastic."

Present tense: is fantastic.

A couple of months ago, before anything between us ever happened, College Ed went out to interview for summer internships in San Francisco and took an extra day to enjoy the city. While chatting with him about this at the bar the night before he was to leave, I asked if he had anything in mind that he wanted to do on his extra day.

He said no, but then added, "Well, I am going to have lunch with my ex-girlfriend." I gave him a quizzical look, not sure of how to respond, and so I asked, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Well, she wants us to get married..."

And I pushed a bit more, "And how do you feel about that?"

He replied, "Yeeaah... no."

At the time, I didn't know which ex this was. I knew that he dated a girl we both knew in college, and that they'd continued dating after college, but I didn't know for how long nor if he has had other girlfriends (and thus ex-gfs) in the seven years since college.

The new information of his college relationship lasting 6 year (!!!) came during our conversation about timing, along with the fact that he has now been single for 2.5 years.

So, his ex-girlfriend of six years lives in San Francisco. He thinks she is a fantastic girl. She is still in love with him and wants them to get married.

Could all this talk of timing be because his lunch with her a couple of months back went really well, and he wants to keep his options open for a summer out in San Francisco rekindling things with her? He wouldn't need to invest any additional time and energy - he presumably knows her deeply well after six years together. And she is perfectly positioned geographically, being in the city already where he ultimately wants to end up.

And this was the point when I got neurotic. I googled her, looked her up on LinkedIn, stalked her on facebook (for once, I'm actually friends with someone that I want to stalk)...

And I found out that she and College Ed became facebook friends in February of this year. I know that at one point a few years ago, they were listed as being in a relationship with each other on facebook. So this means that their breakup was bad enough to have warranted a de-friending at some point. And now, 2.5 years later, they've had enough time to heal and decided to re-friend each other on facebook.

2.5 years is enough time to heal, but is it also enough time to have realized that perhaps there really isn't anyone else out there with whom they'd rather be?

And what better time to answer that question than a two-month revisit of old times while both in good ol' San Francisco?

I know I am being neurotic and making up stories. But the more I think about it, the more sense it makes to me, and the more I am convinced that this is exactly College Ed's thought process when he told me that the timing for us is just horrible. And also his thought process when he asked me why we didn't try this six months ago.

Six months ago, he still wasn't facebook friends with the ex, let alone talking to her, having lunch with her, and considering getting back together with her.

Nevermind that I have nothing to base any of this off of. But don't they always say that the gut feeling of a jilted lover is oftentimes the most insightfully correct?

Two ships, four weeks

I know enough of "He's just not that into you" (those six words are really all you need to know) to know that he just wasn't that into me.

Except each time that I'd decided to move on, he would enthusiastically email me to set up a time to hang out, or put multiple exclamation marks behind his endorsement of a dinner date, or make me smile by picking out the green-colored card during our board game because he noticed green to be my favorite color.

But then I wouldn't hear from him for a whole week. The typical set of mixed signals and roller coaster rides.

Until tonight when I just asked him what it all meant, because mixed signals don't help me.

He told me I was right to have sensed hesitancy because he is indeed hesitant. He's worried about timing because we will both be gone for three months this summer, and he fears he will simply sit and over-think reasons that this would ultimately fail during that time. Even three months from now when he will be back in Boston for one more year of school, he always envisioned himself moving to Silicon Valley after school, whereas I would continue working in Boston. And he promised himself he would not pursue another long-distance relationship.

Which is funny, because that was my exact thought process. Except my conclusion was that I was still willing to give it a shot because I've not met someone this fantastic in a long time. His conclusion was that the timing just wasn't right.

He's just not that into me.

I told him that one of the reasons I'm particularly bummed is that he is the first person to really excite me in a long time. "There are plenty of people out there to date," I said, "and most are perfectly nice, but no one has excited me for a really long time." He agreed, saying that I make him feel the same way, whereas most women don't excite him either. But he can't get excited about "us" yet because he doesn't actually know me deeply and doesn't know us as an entity and thus can't have faith that we are the two people who would be right for each other.

"So how do you get to know that?" I asked.

"By spending time with someone, by actually dating them, by investing energy and effort to really get to know their personality and person. But all of that takes investment, and I'm generally hesitant about investing because I know I will be gone from Boston in a year, and it feels horrible when something you've invested so much in fails. I'm scared, and I'm commitment-phobic because there's no stability in my life right now."

I could have asked him how he knows this would fail without even trying? I could have said that if this were really a priority for him, he'd be willing to make the investment because he wouldn't want to live with the regret that he passed up the opportunity on "the one."

But I didn't say any of that. I just said that I already figured that's how he felt.

And then he asked, "Why didn't we try this 6 months ago?" suggesting that it could have made all the difference, could have given him enough faith while apart for the summer to stay engaged and optimistic, could have been enough time as opposed to starting a relationship come September.

Talk about more mixed signals in a conversation to clarify mixed signals.

"I didn't think you were interested," I answered, and then after a pause, "and I probably wasn't ready 6 months ago." I should have told him it was because he didn't make a move. I was ready in February, if only he'd made a move.

There are so many things I didn't say that I could have said, but perhaps it's better that I left them unsaid. I could have called him out and asked why he would keep leading me on if he has had these doubts all along? Or forget all along, "Why, earlier today, would you have invited me on a 3-day hiking/camping later THIS week when you are so obviously so hesitant??"

But then I'd just be making him verbalize everything that I already know. I could have said that I've thought for some time now that I would ultimately end up in the Bay Area after a bit more time in Boston to be closer to my family and to work the East Coast out of me. Or that I would be willing to move out to the Bay Area with him after he graduates in a year because that's just what I do: go out on a limb to make something I believe work (that, or give too much to relationships and try too hard, dragging them out way past their due date).

Or I could have simply said that I think we would have amazing adventures. Which I truly believe we would.

But I didn't say any of that. What would have been the point? I'd just be countering all of his excuses and cornering him to offer new ones.

He continued.

"You are someone my unmarried self would always go on a date with."

I could have asked him what exactly that meant, and why must he still continue to give me mixed signals even within this conversation, but I didn't.

And he continued.

"But I think I would just be hesitant about this whole thing, and the summer would generate more of a wall for me. You don't deserve that."

I chuckled and told him that was the best reason that he'd given so far. He asked why.

It's because if this were a priority for you, all the timing things wouldn't matter - you make your own definition of "bad timing." It's because if this were important to you, you would think the circumstantial difficulties are just that: circumstantial difficulties that we could work through. But all of this is moot because you are hesitant. I can offer counterpoints for all of your reasons about bad timing and long distance, but I can't counter your hesitancy about "us" because that is the one thing I can't change. Which makes it the best answer yet.

He lamented how hard this problem is because there are no solutions - we are just faced with the worst possible timing. So I offered a solution, "Should we just go back to being friends?"

"Yeah I think that would be best," he said.

We looked at each other, smiled, and nodded. I smiled out of sadness and nodded in agreement because what else can I do but to agree? Perhaps he smiled out of nervousness because I smiled, but his nodding broke my heart a little bit more. He is resolute, and this was the solution he wanted all along but didn't have the balls to say.

Then he asked, "Can we still get brunch together in the fall?"

I sighed. "We'll see."

What I should have said was, "What? Seriously?" But I didn't.

Older men

Mr. Lawyer and I met at the neighborhood coffee/ice cream shop. I'd been going there daily to write my thesis with ambient background noise and had made friends with Mr. Religious, who'd been working there scooping ice cream since last May in a mission to soul search after taking 5 years to finish divinity school but then deciding it wasn't his calling after all.

One day in our neighborhood ice cream shop, Mr. Religious introduced me to Mr. Lawyer as one of the earlier investors of the shop as well as being a hot shot local criminal lawyer who only took on ridiculously hard murder cases. Mr. Lawyer was striking in appearance definitely. Despite being mostly grey (but sexy grey in the Anderson Cooper way), he had bright blue piercing eyes, a toned physique, a firm handshake, an international man of mystery air about him.

He was clearly old and obviously rich if he had the money to be a serious investor 20 years ago. During our conversation, Mr. Lawyer kept referring back to a gorgeous black woman sitting nearby with her friend. She looked about my age, and it later became apparent that this woman was Mr. Lawyer's girlfriend. And they met 8 years ago at a gay bar a few blocks down the street.

Oh Cambridge.

Fast forward a few weeks. I'd stopped going to the ice cream shop to work for various reasons but dropped in this Monday afternoon to finish some work and to borrow their free wifi to take care of a few things online.

Mr. Lawyer came in for a cup of tea (he gets anything he wants for free anytime, a perk of being an investor I suppose) and spotted me at the central table working. We both recognized each other, so he stopped to chat. He told me about his summer travels and also his plans for getting married.

"Oh! Congratulations! I had no idea. This is the woman you introduced us to last time, right?" Leaving out any qualifiers because the only one I could think of was "the *very young* woman". But yes, it was her.

He eventually had to leave and go back to work, but first needed to speak with the owner of the shop in the back office. So we shook hands, made nice, and I said maybe we'd run into each other again at our favorite neighborhood coffee/ice cream shop.

Five minutes later, on his way out the door from the back office, he came by again and asked, "Do you like baseball?"

"Sure, I like baseball just fine."

"Would you be interested in going to a Red Sox game tomorrow?"

"Haha, sure, I'm always up for a Sox game. I'll wear my hat!"

We decided to meet up at the ice cream shop the next day and walk over to Fenway together. I rushed and got there a few minutes late, but he still wasn't there. Just as I thought I was getting stood up, Mr. Lawyer with his sexy greying hair walked in the door, all smiles.

We grabbed some tacos by Fenway before the game started, and since it was pouring rain outside, we ate the tacos at the dive bar hoping to avoid getting drenched as much as possible by the time we get to the game.

A very drunk guy came up to us while we sat eating our tacos, eyed us, and asked, "How old are you two?"

"I'm 49," said Mr. Lawyer. The guy looks to me.

"I'm 28."

"Wow, he must be reeeeally good then," the guy went on, glancing over at Mr. Lawyer, not exactly in an admiring tone. Then he turned to Mr. Lawyer and started on a rampage.

"You're sick. You're a piece of shit. You good for nothing son of a bitch. What the hell are you doing out with someone HER age. YOU are a failure." And the rampage got more crass the more he got into it. Mr. Lawyer's reaction the whole time was just to nod his head and say things like "you betcha", "you're a real winner".

I guess there wasn't much Mr. Lawyer could have said to defend himself seeing that he is soon getting married to a 30-year-old woman. The drunk finally left, but not before telling us that he gets to go home and f- his wife, who's only five years younger than him. Mr. Lawyer seemed taken aback, but handled the attack calmly and well. He is a lawyer, after all.

We left the taco place for Fenway, but by the time we got there, the game had been canceled on account of rain. Mr. Lawyer asked if I'd be up for a drink somewhere instead. Never one to turn down drinks, I said sure.

The thought crossed my mind at some point that this felt potentially not quite right. The whole episode of Mr. Lawyer asking me to the game, our meeting up and walking together to the game, the tacos beforehand, the drinks to replace the rained-out game, it all screamed DATE. Except Mr. Lawyer is grey, 49, and getting married soon... to a woman only two years older than me.

Conversation over drinks was ... great. He doesn't drink, and I only had one beer, so it wasn't the alcohol smoothing things over. Somehow my recent stalker incidents came up (a story on its own that I will have to remember to tell), and that started us down a path of talking about relationships. No, that's not true. The relationship gate was opened earlier in the evening when he asked if I had a boyfriend. Always one for keeping up calm appearances, I mentioned having ended a very serious relationship a year ago, and so now I'm not in any real rush to start a new one.

I eventually finished up my beer, and we walked back to the ice cream shop where we'd met up earlier and started to say goodbye when he interrupted.

"I don't necessarily want to end things on an awkward note, but I just want to make sure I'm honest about everything."

"Sure, what's up?"

"I'm really attracted to you, if you can't tell. And it obviously can't lead to anything because I'm getting married, and she'd castrate me."

So why bring this up? He claimed that he wanted to make sure there weren't any undertones of unknown tension when we hang out, so he wanted to get his feelings out there. But he also asked if I feel the same way, and I just didn't know how to answer that. I guess I feel the same way as I do with most guys with whom I can have a great conversation - he's nice, but there's a mental block that's preventing me from jumping his bones.

In Mr. Lawyer's case, he's 1) getting married, and 2) 49.

In Kix's case, he's overly cynical, and I don't need a repeat of Broadway (Kix is another story worth telling).

So I thanked Mr. Lawyer for speaking his mind, reiterated that I always welcome honesty and stabbing the elephant in the room (can College Ed get some lessons in this?), and that I was flattered, but avoided answering the question of how I feel.

He said that he'd love to continue hanging out (hmm), as friends (hmm), and maybe he and his fiance will have a BBQ at their place or something, and he'd love for me to come over.

Hmm.

Humanized, now what?

Most of it was in my head, but not all.

I wasn't about to initiate contact with College Ed after a horrible rejection experience, and we went on for a week without communicating. Agonizing, humiliating, want-to-crawl-into-hole demoralizing.

A week passed, and he contacted me. "I asked about dinner tonight last week, but just realized that I didn't follow up. Would you still be up for it?"

All conventional wisdom points to saying no, but I didn't. I dragged myself out, debated whether or not to have a "talk," any "talk," about how agonizing the last week had been for me. But this was two days before my thesis defense, and I really didn't need additional emotional turmoil.

Turns out, he tries to kiss me at the end of the night before we parted. I, not about to assume anything this time, stood stoically thinking he just wanted a hug. But he went in for the kiss and got the corner of my mouth (I didn't move, so did he change direction last minute when sensing my lack of movement?).

Oh, so he IS actually interested. I pulled him in for a second kiss, on the lips, but just a peck. Awkward.

That was last Tuesday night. He came to my thesis defense Thursday as well as part of the evening celebrations. We went on a proper date Saturday night, and I stayed over.

That's actually a lot of seeing each other over the course of one week. And he became humanized. He has a lot of problems.

He's another guy with anxiety issues, though not as clear and not as willing to admit to them. He is extremely passive and has a hard time talking about things explicitly, naming the elephant in the room so-to-speak. He seems really hesitant on relationships, and I don't get the sense that it's because of me.

But mostly, the anxiety is so obviously a part of him, a part that a regular once-a-week friend would have a hard time picking up. So he hides it well. But I'm intuitive, and I'm not afraid to call him out.

I emailed him Sunday about the next time we might hang out. No response.

Men.

crash & burn

We hung out last night: dinner, ice cream. As we were sitting in a street-corner park eating our ice cream, a group of people started an impromptu foursquare game nearby. So we joined in for a while.

At the end of the night, he hugged me goodbye. I leaned in for the kiss, but he turned so I got cheek instead.

"I don't want you to get sick! It's not worth it."

This one really did feel like an excuse. I don't know what happened. I thought we had a good time.

roller coasters

I still haven't seen College Ed. He canceled our "date" last Tuesday because he got sick (or "sick" depending on how cynical I'm feeling), and then had an insane week before heading out for a family wedding this weekend.

Email evidence for "he likes me and wants to date me":

"I'll tell you more when I see you" - when he canceled Tuesday afternoon, using "when" versus "if"

"I disappeared... sorry I went awol" - on Friday. Your guess is as good as mine for his motivations to apologize. I wouldn't have thought twice about it - seemed to me like a natural "wait period" in between dates.

"What does tomorrow night look like for you?" - tonight, presumably asking me to do something tomorrow night (Monday).

Evidence for "he might be just being nice and has second thoughts all the time":

He got sick, or "sick" and canceled our "date".

He sucks at responding to email. I emailed back within an hour tonight tonight saying that I am free anytime tomorrow. I heard nothing more.

He's picky. Why would he pick me?

----

When he canceled last Tuesday, I wasn't myself. The cancellation destroyed me for hours. All I could do was to sulk and to complain and rant to whomever would listen. Eventually, a friend had had enough.

"Seine. What the hell are you doing?" he said. "I have never seen you like this. Get your shit together."

"I haven't been like this for a long time. I don't overanalyze or overthink about boys. Boys are boys, and I thought I'd grown out of my crazy phase about boys. But it turns out that I'm still as crazy as ever. It's just that the crazy's had no chance to come out because it's been so long since I've liked a boy this much."

"Okay, I get that," he said, "but you've got a thesis to write. Get your shit together."

So I biked home from school to get some fresh air, and convinced myself down from the crazy ladder.

In the end, College Ed is just another boy. If he likes me, he likes me. If he wants to date me, he wants to date me. If he doesn't, he doesn't. No amount of craziness or overthinking on my part will change that about him.

So that's where I am now: cautiously progressing with no expectations, ready to pull back at any second and call it "just friends." We might see each other other tomorrow night, but I'm not holding my breath so that if we don't, I'm not destroyed again.

time for a jig

College Ed and I are hanging out again tomorrow night. We’ve been emailing back and forth since Sunday, after he volunteered some details regarding his weekend in Rhode Island in an email. I took that to mean he wanted to start a conversation and took things into my own hands.

I shot back a quick email with some mundane details and ended it with “Sounds like a busy week for you too. Best of luck getting everything done, and let me know if you’ll have time to hang out :)”

His response: “Hanging out would be good. I have a dinner Tuesday night until 9 but nothing afterwards… other nights are shot with random events and/or work.”

I jumped up and danced a little jig in front of my mirror.

I’ve been walking around all day today wanting to jump up and click my heels out of joy, but then I remind myself that there’s nothing concrete to click my heels over. In fact, I don’t really know where he stands on me. Interest, yes, but as much as my interest in him?

Sigh, this could actually end very very badly…

The importance of timing?

College Ed and I have a mutual friend, Lee, who is visiting this weekend. His flight was to arrive in Boston late Thursday night, and we all planned to hang out together by going to a party at a club. The crowd: College Ed's business school friends.

College Ed invited me to come over and hang out at his place beforehand to wait for our mutual friend together. I didn't need a second invitation, ran to the liquor store for a 6 pack of good ale, hopped on the Red Line train, and was at his doorstep in 20 minutes.

Conversation always just flows with College Ed. We talked about summer travel plans, his upcoming internship in San Francisco, gossip at business school, how he trained for the marathon couple of years ago, how I volunteered at the Boston Marathon just last week. Every mundane detail he offered made me happy to be sitting there having a beer and talking to him. Not to mention that he approved of my beer choice.

Before long, our mutual friend Lee arrived from the airport, and we headed out to the club. A couple of drinks later, and it's loud in the club. Lee shouted to College Ed, "Are you single?" College Ed shouted back, "Yes."

Lee made a face of disbelief, "WHY???"

College Ed laughed, paused, and then offered, "I guess I'm picky."

A few more back and forths, and College Ed gave a list of standards he looks for in girls. I silently check them off against myself. She has to be smart. Check. Attractive. Check (I think). She has to, has to, has to be able to hold a conversation. Definitely check - our conversations are phenomenal. She has to be kind and caring. Check, but I don't know if College Ed necessarily knows me enough to know this.

So I fit the bill. Was he listing off criteria that he knew I'd meet? Am I drunk and reading too much into things?

Lee and I ended up talking a lot to each other because College Ed knew a lot of people there and constantly had people coming up to talk to him. His business school classmates, especially the girls, love him. Countless girls came up to hug him, kiss him on the cheek, talk to him animately... Like the girl that I am, I always knew where he was, who was around him, how he was reacting to other girls, all while deep in conversation with Lee.

And why wouldn't all these girls love him? He is smart, cute, incredibly nice, definitely can hold a conversation, kind, caring. I don't stand a chance against all these tall gorgeous business school girls. I wanted to stomp over and make him talk to me. I wanted to steal him away from all these women and have him pay attention to me. I was getting more and more drunk.

I was proud of what I wore: flirty but not revealing cute shirt, skinny jeans that accentuate my legs, and killer classy 4" neutral pumps. I felt good, I felt comfortable, and I knew that I looked good in a subtle low-key way. But I don't approach people. While I shout on the inside that I should talk to cute guys, and that more than anything, I should go talk to College Ed and pry him away from all these hot women, I stayed rooted to the ground on the outside.

Did he just glance back at me? He's talking to that super hot girl. Why would he glance back at me? She's so much prettier. There, he looked at me again. He caught my glance and smiled. I smiled back and held my drink up for a virtual cheers.

Suddenly I found myself talking to Kix, and Lee was nowhere to be seen. Kix is one of College Ed's business school friends. While he and I have been taking a class together all semester, we never spoke until a couple of weeks ago. He asked for my number to go out on a date sometime, which I gave him, but the exchanges were less than desirable, so I didn't push for anything. I thought I might run into Kix at the club, and so I looked for him when we first arrived. I didn't see him, so I assumed he didn't come.

He must have gotten there later, seen me standing by the bar and found his way over to talk.

The crowd at the club had thinned out significantly. College Ed saw me talking to Kix and joined the circle. I believe it was nearing closing time, and Kix was pushing for a trip to Chinatown afterwards. I'm very easily convinced. College Ed is usually easy going and will agree to most things. Lee put the stop on it all and asked us if we were all crazy.

So instead, we all walked outside and hailed a cab together, Kix included. The route would hit College Ed's place first, dropping him and Lee off, and then head to Cambridge to drop me and Kix off. I'm starting to realize that once my friends leave, I will be in a cab with Kix by myself, Kix who had made it very clear up to this point that that he wanted to continue to hang out with me more after club closing. I need a strategy to get home, by myself, to MY home.

As I am scheming, the cab stops at College Ed's. I get out first to let my two friends out.

As we stood on the sidewalk next to the cab saying our goodbyes, I heard Lee insightfully say, "Quick, close the cab door!" He then skipped over, slammed the door shut, while College Ed grabbed my hand and shuffled me away from the cab. The cab drove away with Kix alone in the front seat. I didn't dare look back.

Instead I turned to my friends, laughed and said, "Wow, thanks for saving me guys. I guess I'll get another cab and get on my way"

"Yeah, no problem at all," said College Ed. "Well, you're more than welcome to come stay over since Lee is anyway. We can hang out some more, and there's plenty of couch space."

I looked off to the side, pretending to ponder the offer for the obligatory two seconds.

"Yeah, sure, okay. Sounds good."

And that's when I found myself in College Ed's apartment for the second time that night. To make a long story short, Lee eventually passed out on a futon, and College Ed started to say, "Well, it's entirely up to you..."

At which point, I'd already set my beer down on the windowsill. I walked closer to him, looked up, and he leaned in for the kiss. Before we knew it, we were in his room, making out on the bed with the door closed and the lights off.

There was plenty of nervous laughter, interspersed with "why are you laughing?", "why are YOU laughing?", followed by "why haven't we done this earlier?"

"You just told us you're picky! I didn't know if you'd be interested."

"But I'm sure you're picky too?"

"But you're so awesome College Ed."

"You're pretty awesome yourself."

College Ed didn't have class until 1pm, but has trouble sleeping in. So we were awake plenty early and spent the morning cuddling and making out in bed. In daylight, I saw how incredibly gorgeous his eyes are. I can't believe I've never even noticed them before.

The ice was broken, as they say, by alcohol. Oh, how I wish that alcohol had come earlier.

The timing is all off. I am in such stress writing my thesis right now, but I have now been distracted for two whole days unable to focus on work. College Ed leaves in mid-May for an internship in San Francisco all summer, and will be gone every weekend between now and then. In fact, he is gone this weekend, having left this morning for a business school outing in Rhode Island.

Yes, come September, I'll be working in Boston, and College Ed will be back to finish his second year at business school. But (yes, I know I'm getting way ahead of myself here), but he only has one more year of business school left, and I just can't see him staying in Boston afterwards.

I like him. I really really like him. I've not felt this way about a guy in a long time. I will be destroyed if all of this gets killed by timing.

some updates

1) Job – I accepted a job offer recently. What they say about these things really is true: when it rains, it pours. The job that I thought I got back in December ended up backing out. They never contacted me in January like they said they would, and when I asked for an update at the end of January, they replied very vaguely and said they would get back to me in two weeks time. End of February (4 weeks later), not having heard still, I contacted them again. Their response?

“We are no longer hiring.”

Well shit. I reported them to our Careers Office, through which they recruited, and careers was mortified. But that didn’t help my situation of no longer having a job that I thought I had.

Scrambling, I renewed my job search and sent out a ton more resumes and started networking and talking to people again. After a lot of agonizing because I hadn’t heard back from anyone, I heard back from everyone all at once. Within a two-week time frame, I interviewed at multiple companies for multiple rounds and ended up with three offers. In addition, the selection process for a government fellowship I applied for also finally concluded, and I got that too!

So the stress point shifted from sulking about not having a job to deciding which option to go with, how much to negotiate which offer, public or private sector, move to DC or stay in Boston, stay in science or switch to something different? There were so many forks in the road.

I ultimately decided to stay in Boston, but to switch fields. No more bench research, but still working with plenty of science in a science consulting role. I don’t start until September, so that leaves me the whole summer to scheme some fantastic adventures.

2) HB - I never mentioned the conclusion of HB. I went to Chicago at the beginning of March. I repeatedly told him my mind was made up about this being the end. It’d been over since mid-February, with no hopes for revitalizing. We weren’t exactly on good terms, and it was unclear what seeing each other would accomplish. But he insisted, and I already had the plane tickets booked and didn’t want to deal with hassle of trying to get a refund. But who am I kidding? It wasn’t very hard to convince me to go.

In the end, I’m glad I visited. Things really are different in person. Despite still being 100% certain that this is not the relationship that I want, it was much nicer to say goodbye in person. It gave me good parts to hold on to as I move away from this relationship, and it gave him some better characteristics of me to remember too. Very bittersweet, actually. Sometimes two people just don’t work, no matter how much they try.

3) Dating - As I mentioned in the last post, I now finally feel ready for a relationship. I want that support and that intimacy, and I don’t really want hook-up buddies like Special Friend anymore. It worked for the state I was in last fall and even in January, but it feels so empty now. All of this feeds into the loneliness factor, of course. It seems that if I want a hook-up buddy, I can find them around every corner, but where is that perfect connection for something deeper, more permanent?

I’ve started to put myself out there, without much success. How do you broach the subject with a friend you’re interested in as more than a friend? It’s almost easier with strangers – getting rejected is a hit on my pride, but there’s nothing at stake. I won’t ever see him again. Not true with friends – it all comes down to subtle hints, and maybe a joint drinking session when both people feel more courageous.

But things with friends just aren’t two-sided right now. I feel attraction from a couple of guy friends toward me (though I guess you never can be 100% sure), but I repeatedly send “friends-only” signals to diffuse because I am not interested in more. On the other hand, I have a couple of friends (like college Ed) whom I’d like to be more than friends, yet they send me “friends-only” signals.

Seems like the whole world is full of wasted emotions.

loneliness

Over the last year or so, I’ve developed an exceptionally hard exterior shell. It’s sourced from my innate independence and the “I don’t need someone else to help me” mentality that I’ve always had, but also definitely from secret insecurities: an irrational lurking fear that without this hard exterior shell, I will appear vulnerable, and people will take advantage of me.

Some of that may be true, and I see it in friends of mine who try but aren’t as successful as I am in exuding this hard exterior shell. One friend specifically, she gets taken advantage of all the time. Her problem though is different than mine. Her problem is that she tries too hard to be everyone’s friend and ends up with everyone rolling right over her and no assertiveness of her own to fight back.

My problem trends the other direction – I’m too straightforward and assertive. I didn’t used to be like this. I was passive, timid, indirect, but after experiencing how easy things are when I just tell people what I’m thinking and what I want, I have few fears anymore. (Talking to a cute guy while sober is one of the remaining fears).

But I feel I might be alienating people with my directness. We live in a society where people want criticism delivered between flourish, to temper the harshness. I deliver the criticism as is – I’m not mean, but I’m direct, and I get caught up in it. I derive energy from the directness, so the more direct I am, the more direct I get, and the more direct I continue to be until the person finally collapses in a heap in a corner willing me to just stop talking.

When really, I feel so vulnerable. I come home at the end of the day, and I feel so lonely. I want a shoulder to lay on. I want someone to hold my face and tell me everything in the world is okay. I want someone who will wipe my tears away when I talk about how harsh it is out there (ironic since I often deliver the harshness to others). I want someone whom I can touch gently just by holding my arms out, for no reason other than to know that he’s there, that I’m not alone.

I had no respect for HB whom I thought to be the antithesis of analytical. Broadway exemplified analytical and intelligence, but made me sad with his sadness and cynicism. The Doctor was sexually manipulative but too timid out in the world. The Ex was too perfect, too happy, and too optimistic.

I’ve had four bowls of porridge already, and none of them are just right. There’s not even a fifth bowl to try. Where is my perfect bowl?

And when is the problem me? HB was not smart enough. Broadway was too smart that he made me feel inadequate. Broadway was too depressed, but the Ex was too optimistic that I depressed him in the same way Broadway depressed me. There is such a narrow range of “just right” for me that I have to wonder if I’m just really difficult to get along with.

I’m ready for another relationship, because I want that someone who looks up at me from the couch with the happiest most affectionate smile at the end of the day. But I’m scared of the investment. Connection takes time to build – I had 3 years with Broadway, a tumultuous maybe year with HB, 6 months with the Doctor, and 2 years and 7 months with the Ex. I don’t want another 2-year investment that ends in yet another heartbreak.

So I’m back to the beginning. All I want is to have that perfect person so that I can be as vulnerable externally as I feel internally, but I’m afraid of giving up my hard exterior shell because then I will be vulnerable.

A new light

Just came back from brunch with a college buddy of mine who recently moved to Boston to start graduate school. We were decently close in college, but mostly because we were both part of a fairly tight-knit honors engineering class of ~30 kids. Our circle of closest friends had significant overlaps, but he and I were more acquaintances in comparison and lost touch for the most part after college.

Through some other small-world situations last January, we found out we would both be in Bangkok around the same dates and made it a point to get together for dinner one night. He told me then that he would be starting business school in Boston come fall 2010.

Fast forward a few months to last November. We got fancy brunch together on a random Saturday, and to be honest, it was a ton of fun. Conversation just flowed, and we laughed a lot together, and I thought to myself, "I wonder if he is single."

He was. Because we segued into talking about relationships, and he told a funny first-date story from just the weekend before. I dropped my own recent first-date story, and we laughed some more. He insisted on paying for brunch, convincing me with "well, you can get it next time."

Next time was today. I was a bit worried about how our conversation would go today. A lot of the easy breezy conversation from last time stemmed from our stories reminiscing college, but there's only so much we can reminisce about college. With that automatic common conversation topic gone, would we still have laughing flowing banter?

We did. And he's still single. And I'm still single. Our server came by several times to see if we were ready with the check, and even after we paid (I got the bill this time), we stayed for another 15 minutes just drinking water and laughing.

He showed no inclinations to leave, despite several attempts on my part hinting it. I didn't particularly want to leave either, but I started feeling bad about occupying table space with a growing line of people out the door waiting to be seated. Perhaps he was too but was just stalling for time? Every time I reached for something to indicate I was ready to go (wallet to pay, hat & gloves, saying no to more water/coffee), he wouldn't mimic my action, and we would instead start along a new conversation topic.

When we finally did get up to leave, I said that we should do this again because I love brunch.

He said, "Oh yes absolutely. I could eat brunch everyday. Let's do this again soon."

one step forward, two steps back

Developments along several fronts:

1) Special Friend and I defined our relationship. We defined it as "friends with benefits." However, since defining it, there haven't been any benefits. In fact, the momentum for benefits is gone. It's as if our defining our relationship actually killed it. I want benefits because I always want benefits. But I think about benefits with Special Friend, and the mood just isn't even there. I imagine that he probably feel the same way since I haven't heard from him at all since our little DTR talk.

2) I told HB that he doesn't engage me. He said that he agreed. He claims it's because he is exhausted working 12+ hour days with no weekends. I told him I was afraid it was just his personality. I stopped short at saying that I didn't think he was intelligent enough to engage me intellectually. I'm pretty much an elitist bitch.

3) Met a quality boy last weekend. At a bar. Well, actual quality is yet to be determined. We had some scheduling difficulties this week, so we're getting dinner next Wednesday. He is tall, blonde, gorgeous, and definitely held up his end of the conversation. I kept pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Who meets quality people at a bar? He also turned out to have a collaboration project with one of my lab mates. Small world.

4) A really good girlfriend of mine revealed today that she was raped at 19. She was in a big group of women, including me, when she blurted it out. She didn't elaborate on the circumstances under which this happened, and I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet... but she did seem relieved to have the secret lifted off her shoulders after so many years (she's currently 27). I wonder though, if she will come to regret the openness of the revelation given that most of the women there were merely acquaintances.

As for me, I'm still digesting this piece of information, but my gut reaction was "wow, that explains so much about her chronic destructive behavior around men." I, as her best friend in the room, remained stoic and unemotional, while the other women around me cried.

Damage

For the first time, I packed a bag to stay over at Special Friend’s. This time, staying over wasn’t something we stumbled on after 5 beers each. Staying over wasn’t just me not going home at the end of a night of partying. We had plans to go snowboarding the next morning, and he texted me to say “You could bring your stuff over and stay if you want.”

Gushing, I thought about what to text back. Obviously, I’d love to stay over. But my protective instinct started to text “Yeah, okay sure. That’d be convenient for the morning.”

Then I erased it because I don’t want to play games anymore. I’m gushing, and he deserves to know how genuinely happy I am that he asked. So I replied “I like it :)”

For the first time, we had sex while both of us were sober. He loves to focus on me, and I love to focus on him. He fumbled a little, only because we don’t yet know each others’ bodies, but he seemed to want to right the situations himself. So I just relaxed, smiled, and let him figure it out. He was gentle but assertive, and our bodies swayed to a slow love-making rhythm.

Right afterwards, with him still on top of me and my legs wrapped up around him, he swooped his arms under my back and hugged me tightly.

“Mmm, that was amazing,” I said.

Silence.

This from a man who just three nights before couldn’t stop saying “oh my god, you are so good.” Does he clam up with sobriety? Is sex not as enjoyable when he’s sober? Was I not good? I went out on a limb to express my pleasure and got silence in return. I felt the hint of the damage.

After a bit of cuddling, he flipped on his stomach so I could give him a back massage.

“I like how hard you press with your hands on my back,” he told me.

“Let me know if it’s too hard.”

“Like when you’re pressing so hard that you pull out some hair from my back?”

I was horrified, immediately took my hands off his back, and asked him if I’d actually done that. Was “I like how hard you press” a passive aggressive way of telling me I was using too much pressure?

“No,” he said, “You weren’t pressing too hard until right before I said that. The pressure feels really good.”

“Oh okay.” But the biting damage had already been done.

lapses of judgement

I drunk dialed HB last night after getting home from an evening at the local microbrew with some friends. He didn't pick up. So I texted Special Friend. He didn't respond.

Feeling lonely and shitty, I drank some water and went to bed. My thinking was that once I'm asleep, time will pass much more quickly, and I won't feel like a freak standing guard by my phone waiting for someone to respond all while agonizing whether or not I acted too impulsively by dialing and texting. And am I completely desperate that I reached out to two different men?

I closed my eyes to fall asleep, secretly hoping that a return call would wake me up. Next thing I knew, it was morning. There were no new texts nor missed calls. Ugh, it was 10am on a Saturday morning and I already feel like an idiot.

And I still had a whole afternoon of seeing Broadway to look forward to.

why are you so cute?

Whenever I felt giddy and loved and affectionate, I'd ask Broadway, "Why are you so cute?" He always got all shy and embarrassed. He'd retreat a little, lower his head and mutter a barely intelligible "I don't know," which only made him that much cuter.

HB on the other hand would spin some outrageous tale. "Well, let me tell you. On the day that I was born, there was this cuteness wizard outside of the hospital. He decided to bestow extreme cuteness on one baby born that day..."

Or perhaps it would be about how when he was 5-years-old, his mom took him to the carnival where he stepped in the trails of a shooting star and caught the attention of the cuteness wizard. And so on and so forth. It'd be a long-winded story he's making up on the spot every single time.

The first time that it happened, I thought it was funny and cute. But when it happened every time, I started rolling my eyes. Here we go again, I'd think. I already know that I will want the next 5 minutes of my life back.

Broadway and I have been emailing back and forth a lot lately, usually multiple times a day and across multiple email subject threads. We send each other funny pictures, funny articles, funny life reports. The emails are light-hearted, short, devoid of conjugations of the verb "to be" (our usual communication style), go off-topic quickly and usually devolve into something altogether silly. For example, one of yesterday's exchanges went like this:

Me: "somebody built an igloo in the courtyard outside my building. i climbed in it and played. it roomy & fun."

Broadway: "oh that cool. maybe i go by there on way home later."

"may be more fun in daylight, so maybe on your way in tomorrow. probably just dark & scary & cold when there no lights."

"haha, yeah maybe tomorrow better. i probably not going home until late tonight anyways. so much to do. gaaaaaa"

"gaaaa good luck. i've been setting up a lot of stuff last couple of days, so there just lots of waiting. wait wait wait"

"dig dig dig"

"what you digging for?"

"digging out from under this pile o' stuff i gotta do. dig dig dig"

Today, I asked him about going by his house sometime tonight or tomorrow. A group of us want to go skiing, and my car racks are still stored at his house, my old place. I still have a key to the front door, but I feel weird just showing up unannounced and letting myself in - it makes me feel like an intruder. I asked Broadway when he thought he or his roommates might be home for me to come by.

His response: "I don't know about others. I'll be home working most of this evening and tomorrow. if you coming to get your roof rack, then you choose when you coming. if you coming to see me, then you still choose when you coming. you choose."

We haven't seen each other since I moved out in May. These emails are a new development as of the last month or so. Are we ready to see each other? I don't know.

I replied that it would be good to see him, but I don't want to make him see me if he doesn't want to. But now I'm all nervous thinking that I might see him sometime really soon. I need my roof racks before Sunday morning.

He hasn't responded yet.

where do I start?

In which I somehow manage to cheat on HB again, even though we aren't even together.

When I get drunk, I call HB. You might call it drunk dialing, but I'm still in denial. For the second time ever in my drinking life, I blacked out last weekend. I was in LA (Santa Monica to be exact), rendezvous-ing with an eclectic group of people for a weekend of beach ultimate. We got so excited to be in the southern California sun that we went to happy hour at 4pm Friday afternoon and didn't stop until who knows when.

I woke up in a bathtub, fully-clothed, around 10pm when the girl sharing my room came back to use our bathroom and almost called an ambulance when she discovered me.

Passed-out. In a bathtub.

I wasn't actually unconscious--I really had just been sleeping--but she didn't know that. And I didn't know how or why or when I got into the bathtub.

The next morning, I discovered that I had several texts from an unknown number asking if I was still awake (hmm... I have some vague memories of giving out my number to a beautiful black man at the bar). I also had a voicemail from HB, timestamped 9pm the night before, telling me that he hoped I was able to get some water and that I'd be able to play frisbee the next day.

How'd he know I was drunk and needed water?

My outgoing call history showed a 30-minute conversation with HB around 8pm the night before. Huh. Having no recollection of this at all, I sat down in the sand and called HB to ask for details. Naturally.

He said during the course of this 30-minute conversation, I wouldn't stop telling him how much I loved him. I also kept repeating how drunk I was, but not nearly as many times as "I love you so much."

Oh god.

The extreme happiness in HB's voice betrayed his interpretation: my drunken self revealed my true feelings for him which I obviously hide and escape from when I am sober, logical, and collected.

Oh god.

The truth is that I get overly affectionate when I drink and have a tendency to overstate my emotions. It doesn't help that I often do it with extra flourish and oomph just to make extra certain that my audience is fully aware of how serious I am (and how much they "mean to me"). But in the end, it's all alcohol talking. I don't admit it much because who likes being told the morning after that they're not actually loved as much as the sun and the moon and the stars? I just giggle, chalk it up to my cheesy drunken state, and let it go. The boyfriends always love the ego boost.

Except HB is not my boyfriend. Oh god.

Let's start back at December 29.

I was home at my parents' house in South Carolina for the holidays with two more days to go before returning to Boston to celebrate NYE. HB called me out of the blue to declare that he wants to come to Boston for New Year's Eve, especially because he knows I'll be celebrating with Special Friend and company at a fancy cocktail-dress party.

"No, that's not a good idea," I said. "It will make things very awkward with Special Friend. Besides, you're only doing this because you're jealous of him."

"I just don't like seeing other people take New Year's kisses that are rightfully mine."

"What? That's so immature. Besides, there's nothing special going on between me and Special Friend."

I lied. Let's rewind back two more weeks to mid December. I was still in Boston, rushing like mad to get all my lab work done before leaving town for 1.5 weeks to see mom & dad. Things with Special Friend were going down omg-we-might-actually-start-seeing-each-other-dating-relationship-scary paths, and we'd picked out a night for a proper dinner date. It was the night before I was to leave Boston though, and we ultimately had to cancel because neither one of us actually had time. He smilingly asked for a raincheck in January, and yes, he was very much looking forward to this fancy New Year's Eve party. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned in for a kiss. I melted.

Fast forward again to December 29th. HB angrily asked, "So you don't want me to come because you're afraid I'll cramp your style with Special Friend? I'm offering to buy a last minute plane ticket to come see you, and you're turning me down for a playboy whom you don't care about?"

"No, you wouldn't be cramping my style. You're twisting my words." But I had no further arguments because that's exactly what I was trying to say without explicitly saying it.

I felt evil and manipulative and like a cheater again, even though HB and I weren't even together anymore. I managed to calm him down by convincing him that Special Friend really wasn't someone special. HB asked me to clarify the nature of my and SF's relationship. I told him that we make out sometimes, that I've slept over a few times, but that's it.

Now-calm HB very understandingly tells me that he understands where I'm coming from, why I am afraid of commitment, and that it's fine to go explore with other guys around me. That's all okay with him. And for New Year's Eve, he just wants to come to see me. And yes, to fuck me, but that's secondary to seeing me and just spending time together again and seeing if we still have that spark because it's been a while since we talked. He had no expectations for after NYE though he would want to talk about it while he's in Boston and just see where things go.

I couldn't say no to such an understanding boy who wanted to see (fuck) me so much, so HB bought his Chicago-to-Boston plane ticket

I broke the news to SF over text (I know, I'm even more evil than you ever imagined).

SF knew that I would be back in Boston on Dec 30th. Around 11:30pm on the 30th, he texted me. "I'm so stoked to finally see you again. Want me to pick up some burritos and come over to chill?" Last couple of times we got drunk together before the holidays, we bought 7-11 frozen burritos on the way home and then giggled over nothing while they cooked in the microwave.

This time, I'd just gotten home from picking up HB at the airport. I felt like I just ran over someone's dog.

"Aww," I replied after some time, "that's so sweet. But I just got home from the airport. Picked up a visiting friend whose flight was seriously delayed. Am exhausted, think we're headed for bed."

"Sure, no worries. See you tomorrow night?"

"Definitely." And then I broke the news. Kinda. "Stoked to see you too, but things are a bit complicated."

"Oh? I'm home all day tomorrow. Wanna come over, and you can elaborate?"

He's not making this easy. He doesn't see any of this coming. All he wants to do is to see me and hang out with me.

"Um, well, actually, so my friend who is visiting is a male friend."

"A male friend? Or a male friend? Either way is fine with me - I just want to make sure I don't misunderstand your text."

"A male friend."

"Okay, that's cool. Haha, I have male friends too. Are you still partying tomorrow night?"

How could he still manage to crack a joke after this? What is actually going on in his head?

"Yeah, we'll both be at the party."

"Awesome. Looking forward to it."

I wanted to crawl into a hole.

The NYE party had so many elephants in the room. A very drunken Special Friend nodded in HB's direction indicating recognition (they met briefly when HB visited me from Beijing last summer). The two of them shared a cigarette out on the balcony while I pretended not to fret inside. Outwardly, everyone appeared okay, cordial, and cool. Inside, not a single one of us was okay.

From midnight onward, Special Friend spent his entire time dancing and making out with the only other Asian girl at the party. He just met her that night. He told me in December that he's never kissed an Asian girl before me.

HB caught me spying on Special Friend and the Slut and asked if I was bothered.

"Of course I'm bothered," I shot back.

This sent HB huffing and puffing out to the balcony, where he huffed and puffed two more cigarette even though he told me he'd mostly quit and would only have one or two a week in social situations. I sat on the couch staring out onto the dance floor of seemingly happy drunk people wondering what kind of a fucked up situation I got myself into.

Aside from the party awkwardness, HB and I actually had a great weekend together. So much so that I began to question myself again on my resolve to not date him. The problem isn't when we are together. We always have a great time together. It's when we go back to long-distance that everything fades for me.

We talked about us. HB, as usual, was clear on what he wanted: me. I, as usual, was wishy washy about commitment. This time, I spelled out our pattern and pointed out that I don't want to commit only to change my mind about wanting to be with him a week after he leaves.

HB finally proposed that we should delay the commitment decision for three weeks. That way, I can think about everything without him next to me feeding me this high of spending time together. The three weeks apart would ensure that I am making an informed decision untainted by his presence beside me all weekend. Yeah, okay, that sounds good.

But not before a final question from him. "Are you going to make out with Special Friend during these next three weeks?"

"No," I said, "it wouldn't really feel right." I meant it. It wouldn't feel right.

HB left the Monday following New Year's. That following weekend, Special Friend and I went clubbing together with our huge group of mutual friends. Completely hammered at the end of the night, SF asked me to go home with him. Shocked and drunk, I managed to stammer something about "I can't believe you still want me to go home with you after New Year's Eve." SF's exact reply is now hazy, but I think he said that he didn't care as long as HB and I aren't actually together. The one thing I do remember him clearly saying is "we can't ignore the fact that when we're out partying together, neither one of us flirts with anyone else besides each other."

So I gave in to my present-hedonist self and went home with Special Friend. I woke up the next morning in his bed with a throbbing hangover, the dread of having to call HB, and the resignation that I am a giant heart-breaking mess.

HB swore on the phone that he was finally completely done with me. I'd broken his heart. I'd shown no interest in trying even though he's been trying ever since we met a year ago in Beijing. He had no idea why he'd wasted so much energy and love on me. I'm a chronic cheater, and he questions if he'll ever trust in me again.

I sighed because I had nothing to say. I agreed wholeheartedly with him. I'm in a bad place right now, and it was time to finally admit it and own up to my actions. And with that, I thought I had closed the HB chapter of my life...

...Until HB changed his mind and decided to give me a 2-week test. If I could go two weeks without hooking up with Special Friend or anyone else, then he would reconsider. If not, then he's gone from my life.

I sighed, out of exhaustion. "Okay, whatever you want to do. I'm exhausted."

That takes us up to my boarding a 7am flight to LA 4 days later... 13 hours before I blacked out and woke up in a bathtub.

To be continued (and I never did write about the Alum or the Tall One)...