Icarus's blog: "Hurts to watch."

I think I've finally figured out what I'm missing the most.

You're sitting in a room.
Drinking your favorite drink
talking to strangers
and without notice
because she has arrived right on time
she steps into the room
places one hand on your shoulder
and kisses you on the lips.
Like it was the most important thing to do.

GOD
I miss that.

So last night I had a dream about ... ... ... is there a word for evil incarnate?

anyway
she had a kid
and I was sucked into the desert through knowing that
and was forced to watch her and the kid's life unfold
protesting everything that I had been through in the interrim
protesting her happiness ...

I woke up a few times.
Once around dawn.
And I just stayed up til my alarm went off because I was tired of going back to that awful place.

I was asked to go to church this weekend with tiny blonde.

I tried to politely decline

but I'm getting really fucking tired of being asked.

At some point it got out that I don't go to church and people haven't figured out that me and god are fine

I just don't do religion.

And as I was walking back to my desk it occured to me that I could play that up and possibly make ****** jealous.

... not the most mature thing.

But ****** asked me out to drinks tonight, and I said yes, and I mentioned it, and that I was getting tired of being asked, and that frankly, I find tiny blonde kind of... exhausting. Like I'm in a delicate hostage negotiation every time she opens her mouth.
I don't want to offend, but I also kinda want to be left alone.

Girl and roommate had heard tiny blonde likes me.
I pretended like I hadn't noticed, and I acted amazed that there was an active "grapevine" on this topic.

Of course I know. I work with women.
Women talk.

I dunno, I wanted to throw something into the fire and see what would happen.

I think I was kind of a douche tonight... and couldn't really catch it. I passed that whole thing off when I could've just avoided it altogether,

I paid for the check

and I talked about my near death experience and ... various splashy suicide attempts.

I know that doesn't sound douchey it sounds like me being me actually.

But ... I picked it up because a single check was provided, and ... I didn't mind paying.
But underneat that was this silent resentment, and it probably wasn't even toward her, I just... wanted to be there again, and I hated those that had denied me of it, and those who had once had me there.
But picking it up was less awkward than pizza math, and its something I'm accustomed to doing on my own, and from observing my dad.

But these are modern women.
They like to pay their way and work full time and all that... modern woman stuff.
So I felt a little old fashioned and silly doing it.

I dunno... I think I caught myself subconciously driving the point.
I think I caught myself wishing she would kiss me that way... that first thing in the door.
That last thing out the door.
That first thing in the morning, and just before bed.

I don't think its wrong of me to want that.
But to acknowledge it... at such a liquid state
seems unfair. Almost foolish.

I just sat there and felt tired.
Tired and enamored with this benevolent siren
resenting her ever so slightly for not being mine
and for being a woman
and all that entails.

I dunno... ask me again when I'm not so conflicted, confused and sleep deprived.