On Pushing Milo Away, Or The Misfortune Of Being In Love With Two Guys

I finally saw Milo yesterday.  Here, to the best of my memory, is how it went.

We got smoothies and then went to UNF to find my classes.  When we arrived at the school, I said, “You realize there is a potentially very awkward subject that needs to be broached, right?”

“Oh, I know,” he said.  “I know.”

Then we went to the museum where he works, and then later to his apartment, and then we were walking around his neighborhood, and after a brief break in conversation, he said, “I’m trying to figure out how to broach an awkward subject.”

“I figured that’s what you were doing.”

Another awkward silence.

I said, “An awkward silence is usually the best way to begin.”

We laughed, which was followed by another awkward silence, until finally Milo said, “I hate to relate this to a television show, but last night I was watching That ’70s Show, and Eric came back and told Donna that he’d finally realized he was a dumbass, like Red’s always telling him.  And well…I finally realized that I am a dumbass.”

“Yeah, I agree,” I said.

“Yeah, I know.”

He mentioned an exchange of e-mails between him and me and him and Cortney a couple years ago, when we were planning to all move to L.A. together, and said that he’d thought about that, among other things, and was really just realizing he’s a complete dumbass.

He said a jumble of different things about pushing people away and ended with, “This isn’t really making sense, is it?”

“No,” I said honestly, because it was not, and I couldn’t leave this conversation, four years in the making, with something that I didn’t understand.  I needed more.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve been pushing you away, Ginny, and I’ve realized that, and I’m really sorry for it.  …I’ve been with four or five different girls since I met you, Ginny, and they’ve all ended up stupid or psychotic, and…I was never able to connect with any of them.  Not the way I can connect with you.  In fact, you’re the only girl I’ve ever been able to connect with this way.”

“Yeah,” I said, agreeing.  I know it’s true.  I wasn’t saying much at this point, not to make him more uncomfortable than he already was, but because I really had no clue what to say.  It was all so delicate, and I found it a lot harder than I expected going in.  Suddenly I wasn’t certain anymore, I was completely vulnerable, and I had to trust the part of myself that, before going in, knew I wanted to be with Dean, and I had to totally base my responses on that, but at the same time, for honesty’s sake, I would deny none of the feelings that I had and still have for Milo.

After a long pause, I said, “Well…I guess we’re just going to have to live with the fact that you’re a dumbass.”

He laughed nervously, and I continued.  Please assume that there are long pauses between every sentence.

“I’ve been waiting for this.  Honestly, I knew you would have to realize it someday.”  And I did.  I always knew that one day it would dawn on him.  That wasn’t wishful thinking or anything–I knew he would have to.  “I will always believe that we would have worked…but it’s just too late now.”  (The pause here was so long I thought I would mention it.)  “You know what you are to me, Milo?  For years, I thought you were the only one for me…but what I’ve come to realize is that you…you’re my Lana Lang.”

This is absolutely true.  Everything here is absolutely true, but I meant this exactly as it sounds.  I believed he was the only one for me, the only love I would ever have.  I believed this for years, even after I’d accepted that we just weren’t going to be together and I had to move on.  I knew I would never fall in love again.  But I was wrong.  I was wrong.  That isn’t something I particularly care to admit, but I’ll say it one more time:  I was wrong.  I am in love again, which means that Milo, as several people have pointed out to me over the years, is not my only love after all, but only my first love.  In fact, he can’t even be the love of my life, because Dean is the one who will be with me for life…not Milo.  I made that choice yesterday and I will not back off of it.  As long as I remember this as my goal, it will be easier.

He didn’t say anything, so I said, “I don’t know if that makes sense–”

“No, it makes perfect sense.  I can see what you mean by it.”

I didn’t tell him this–I meant to, but got distracted and never went back to it–but back in 11th grade, when I was watching Smallville, the Clark/Lana situation always reminded me of him and me.  It’s so obvious.  And I used to wish we could just change history and make Lana stay with Clark forever.  It was never to be.  I couldn’t accept the fiction, and I couldn’t accept the facts.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you that it’s too late,” I said.

“Yeah, it is pretty surreal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

A long silence.

“Well,” I began, “I hate to say I told you so–”

“Oh, you do not, Virginia Jones, you love to say I told you so!” he said in his familiar, overdramatic Milo voice.  I laughed, and he laughed.

“You’re right; I do love to say it.”

Another silence.  Then Milo picked up the cue.

“After I sent that message and I thought about it, I felt like a real idiot.  I mean, I know you’re happy with Dean–that’s what you’ve told me–and I shouldn’t be trying to screw that up.  And I don’t want to.  But…how serious are you two?”

This was even harder.  “Dean…is forever,” I said.  “We’re very serious.  We talk about marriage and the future all the time.”

There were several awkward silences all in a row, with no interruption.  And then Milo started talking again.

“You’ve always been a really good friend to me, Ginny, and I was never able to think about the…physical side of things, with you and me.”

“Psh–I thought about it all the time.”

“I know.”  A nervous smile and a pause.  “I’ve only seen you and Dean together once or twice, and you’re so affectionate together.”

“Yeah,” I said.  This is something else that I knew would get to him, and a reason I wanted him to be around us more often in the beginning, when I still had an agenda.  I knew we were affectionate, and I knew it would get to Milo, because one of the main problems was that he was never able to see me that way.  I wanted him to see me that way, to realize that if he was with me, I wouldn’t be stagnant or dull–that I loved him, so of course I would be all over him.  And it did finally dawn on him–too late.

At one point, after another pause, I said, “May I just point out….”

“Oh, of course, by all means!  Point away.”

“I would just like to point out that you had more opportunities than anybody is ever given.”

“Oh, I know,” he said.  “Believe me…I know.”

“And you wasted them all.”

“I know.”

“Just thought I’d mention it.”

He asked if I am really happy with Dean, and I told him I am, and he said, “And he’s good to you?”

“He is,” I said.

“Good.”

He never said the words, “Ginny, I’m in love with you”.  I don’t know if he is or not.  Half of me did want him to say it, because…well…just because.  But the other half of me that is not selfish was afraid that he would, because I don’t want him to be there.  I know all too well what it is like to be in love with someone that you can’t have, and I don’t want that for him.

As I said, it was harder than I expected–a lot harder.  In fact, for a short time later, as I was lying in Dean’s arms (I went to his house immediately after leaving UNF) I was even wondering if I had made the right choice.  It has never been so apparent that I am in love with two guys at the same time.  How did I wind up in this predicament?  But as I said, I will remember that Dean is the right choice, and let that guide all of my decisions.

When we got back to UNF, Milo got out and said, “Let me give you a hug.”  We usually hug when we see each other because it is a long-established thing, and we don’t see each other too often these days.  And my face accidentally brushed against his, and for a moment I thought, Oh, don’t kiss him and wondered if he might try it.  He didn’t.  I knew he was considering it, though.  And then I was startled to find that my hand was somewhat awkwardly in his.  Like, not the way Dean and I hold hands, just…my fingers were kind of folded on top of his.  And I wasn’t sure how they’d gotten that way.  I wasn’t aware of ever taking his hand.  And then we broke apart, and he said, “We’re still friends, right?”  Of all the times this situation has been reversed, and I’ve wondered if he would still bother to be my friend, there was no way I was going to tell him we couldn’t be friends.  No way.

“We’ll have to hang out again soon,” he said.

“Yes, on a day when there is no awkward subject to be discussed.”  I smiled.  He did, too.

And then I went to The Mormon’s house and told him the story, and that I’d wanted to wait until I had handled it before I told him, so he wouldn’t worry.

“I will admit to a tiny twinge of jealousy,” he said.  “I’ve realized it’s just human nature.  But I am also partially adult, and I trust you.  So don’t worry about it–I won’t go out of my way to be a jerk to him.  Like, if the three of us are ever hanging out, I’m not going to be cold and cruel to him or anything like that.  But I’ll still feel a tiny twinge.”

I smiled at him and said that was exactly how I imagined he would take this, and that I love him.  And I do.  God, I love my Mormon.

I will admit to a couple of moments of almost tears while talking to Milo, because it was so much harder than expected.  There were a few actual tears afterward as I considered the fact that I am so happy to have someone so good that I actually can push Milo away.

Advertisements

A Huge Confession From Milo

Milo called me last night, and I hadn’t spoken to him in a couple of weeks, so I figured he probably had something specific he wanted to know or say.  But oddly, it appeared that he wished only to hear my voice, because he asked how I was doing, listened to a few stories, and then had to go.  He didn’t really say much at all.

This morning first thing, I checked my email and had the following message from him:

Hey Ginny! Talked to you on the phone not too long ago. Listen…I have something I need to confess to you and I don’t know how you’ll take it…
Do you remember the last time you “poured” yourself out to me in the garage that night? and I turned you away?…I feel like such a dick for admitting this thru writing instead of face to face…well, I caved that night and I never told you. I caved. I guess it was about 3am and I couldn’t sleep just thinking about all the things you said and how it all made sense…I got up to go into your room. I didn’t know what I was going to do…maybe lay next to you or just…I dunno. but I didn’t get far. As soon as I opened the kitchen/garage door your dad was standing there making a sandwich and he just gave me this weird look. All I could say was…”I thought I heard a noise-just checkin’ on it.” and I went back to bed. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t follow thru or tell you. if you want to talk about it with me sometime-that’s fine. I’m here. ttfn.
~milo

Obviously, this is huge.  I’d been waiting for it, though.  I always knew he would have to one day realize that I was right all along, and right for him.  But he’s too late.  I am in love with The Mormon, and I will not do anything to destroy what I have with him.

I wrote back to Milo that we do, in fact, need to talk about this, and that it will occur in person.  I just hope I really do have the strength to carry through with what I need to do.

I will tell him that I’m glad he did finally realize that I knew what I was talking about all along, but that it is too late, because we have both chosen different lives for ourselves.  He had more opportunities than anybody is ever given, and he waited way, way too long.

Capitals, Milo, and a Samaritan

I’m currently reading Tim Dorsey’s Orange Crush, the second paragraph of which begins with “Tallahassee is the capital of Florida”.  I paused here and thought, It is?

Why is it that I can never remember that Tallahassee is the capital of Florida?  I guess it just isn’t something I generally think about; it doesn’t really affect me at all.  But as I was paused reflecting on that tidbit, I honestly couldn’t tell if I would have been able to come right out with “Tallahassee” as the answer if asked what our state capital was.  When I was in Virginia, I always knew that Richmond was the capital; I never had to think about it.  I just find that odd, is all.

Went out with Milo today–I hadn’t seen him in quite a while.  We’d talked about going out to lunch, but as neither of us was hungry, we just went to the mall and walked around for a bit; then he said, “Want to see what movies are playing?” and I said yes, so we walked to the theatre to see Bad Samaritan.

It wasn’t until we were sitting down watching the previews that I realized it was the first time I had ever been to a movie with just him.

I used to try all the time, of course, but I could never quite finagle it.  I always suspected that he was so freaked out at the idea of sitting in the darkened theatre with only me that he avoided it at all costs.  Every time I suggested it in the past, he was otherwise occupied unless somebody else could go with us.  I could never tell whether this was intentional or just one coincidence after another.

It is a mark of how things have changed that not only did we go to a movie just the two of us, but he was the one to suggest it and it didn’t dawn on me until we were already there.

The movie was awesome, by the way.  The wonderful David Tennant was wonderfully terrifying and I needed my Doctor when it was over with just to make me feel better.

Anyway.  Off to Publix with Brother.

The Mormon, Work Anxiety, Some Black Licorice, and a Luncheon Meeting

First of all, I would just like to say welcome to my new readers!  Thank you very much for following.  Please don’t be shy; feel free to drop by and introduce yourselves sometime!

I’m not going to school this semester.  Not by choice—just because the school and the doctor’s office are both run by incompetent gits.  So I now have four months to give them both hell.  I will be going next semester.  Of course, by that time, I will be the equivalent of one year behind schedule.  Brilliant.

I did start back to work again this week.  So I mean, I won’t be a complete loser for four months.  Oh, but I’ll feel like it.

For the past couple months I’ve been rather silent on the Dean the Mormon stories, but no more.  I’ve decided I’m way past the don’t-kiss-and-tell stage now.  (He’s my boyfriend; we kiss.  There.)  So now I can tell stories as they arise without feeling guilty or having to put the lock on, which I dislike doing.

So…speaking of Dean the Mormon…we went to St. Augustine the other day just to be tourists.  I got lost on the way to his house.  (He lives about an hour away from me, and see, I suck at finding places on the first or fiftieth times, and I suck at giving directions.  I’m just not good with this kind of thing.  As I was trying to explain to him, when I learn to drive someplace new, I have to learn it in both the light and the dark, because they both look way different to me, so it’s like two completely different routes.)  Also, I’d never seen it in the light, and it was light while I was trying to find it.  I did manage to find my way out in the dark later, which is saying something, as there are very few lights out where he lives.

We were headed into a bookstore a few minutes after we arrived, and there were some other people headed into the store, coming from the other direction, when The Mormon paused and had that look of, ‘Hey, I know you’ on his face.  Then they paused, too.  And when I saw that they had a baby, I knew that this must be Trask and Co.

Trask is one of The Mormon’s best friends—the one who lives in Gainesville with his wife and their baby, whom, when he came out, Trask said looked like something out of The Dark Crystal.  (Apparently he’s grown out of that stage, because I couldn’t really see it.  And believe me, I looked.)  Trask is also the one who calls dozens of times during two-hour make-out sessions because he knows that when The Mormon isn’t answering his phone, that’s what’s going on.

So they just happened to be going into the same store as us on the same day at the exact same time.  I love weird coincidences like that.  Anyway, so as we parted ways, Trask shook my hand and said, “It was lovely to finally meet you; I’ve heard great things.  This guy has really fallen head over heels for you.”

We went into some candy store later and argued for a while over whether black licorice is good or bad, and then we got a bag of various things, and I put a scoop of black licorice in it, and so then I stuck a piece in my mouth, and he informed me coolly that I was not going to get kissed for an hour.  I laughed and ate more licorice.

We went to the fort, the name of which I can’t remember, but…you know…the fort…and joked about the two-hundred-year-old graffiti on the walls (I’m serious; there was stuff carved from like 1800-something) and some General or Commander Pratt.  And then we made Pratt jokes for the rest of the time we were there.  (Example:  There were several spots where you could, even now, quite easily fall from the upper level to…way far below, and I wondered aloud how often that must have happened back in the day, and he said he didn’t know but it must have happened, and it must have sucked, and I looked down below in this mournful sort of way and said, “Oh, there goes Pratt.”  Stuff like that. ‘Twas fun.)

Then we went to this 50s diner where they actually played all 50s music (which was really cool because I knew every single song, some of which I hadn’t heard in…well, many years).  And back to his house again to watch Say Anything, this kick-ass British show called Spaced, and a little Battlestar:  Galactica.  At one point, he stepped outside to smoke, and his brother came out and said, “Where’s Dean?”

“Oh, probably outside smoking,” I said.

“That was enthusiastic,” Jeremy (the brother) said.

“Ha…yeah, well…I’m just going to eat more black licorice to get back at him,” I said, and ate about six pieces.

I checked the caller ID this morning and discovered that yesterday, while I was out, another stalker called me.  For the first time in months.  This guy liked me back when I was in my journalism class a year ago, and he liked a few of my friends, too.  He did a story on HP fandom, and asked for some of my friends’ names to interview them.  Then he started stalking Katie.  He’d come up to me and ask if I knew where any of her classes were, or when (I very coldly informed him that I did not), and then sent her an e-mail, which I actually still have.

From April 1, 2017…April Fools’ Day, go figure:

“Hey there,

Just wanted to say that it was nice talking to you and thanks for your oppinoin [sic] on the new Harry Potter book.  Also, if we can meet up sometime next week, can u tell me what u look like.  Maybe that way it will make it easier for me to find u.  For me, 6’1”, dark short brown hair, glasses, 150 lbs. hazel eyes.  I like HP, photography, paintball, watching tv, playing my Game Boy, going to the movies, listening to HP audiobooks.  What do u like to do?

Thanks, Colin”

This guy was really weird, if you haven’t already guessed that.  He had this creepy, halting sort of speech, really slow, with odd inflections.  Like a poorly-made robot.  He tried calling both of us several times after that, and neither of us ever answered again.

Tell me, what is with these people, and how do I keep meeting them?

So I went to lunch with Milo today…hadn’t seen him in a few weeks…and this scary thing happened when I got out of my car.  We were walking into the restaurant, side by side, and I don’t know, I guess obviously there’s some pent-up stuff inside, and now I’m not afraid of hand-holding like I was two months ago…anyway, as we were walking in, I tried to grab his hand.  I don’t know what was going through my head.  But I brushed against his arm with mine and reached down for it, and that was the exact moment I realized what I was doing and jerked my hand away again like I’d burnt it.  I don’t think he noticed—I sort of played it off like I’d just walked too close and then lengthened the distance between us.  But then later we walked over to Target and I did it again!  So I just crammed my hands into my damn pockets and kept them there.

(I would just like to say, for those of you who are wondering, that no matter what my feelings for a certain other concerned party, I would never cheat on The Mormon, because for one thing, I’m just not like that, but for another…he’s a really freaking great boyfriend.  I couldn’t ask for better, and I like him a lot.  And even if Milo finally came to his senses all of a sudden and realized that he should have been with me all along…I’d make him wait indefinitely.)

So afterward I went back to The Mormon’s to watch more of Spaced.  That show totally kicks ass, I’m telling you.  Like I said, it’s an hour drive, and I knew that it would be really difficult trying to find his house in the dark, so the entire way there, I felt like I was trying to outrun the darkness.  As I explained to him, I kept checking the rearview mirror, and I could see the sky behind me getting darker and darker, and I was going faster and faster, when at last I hit the traffic on San Jose, and the darkness was coming much more quickly.  But I actually made it just in the nick of time, when a sliver of light still hung in the air.

And now I s’pose I’m finished for the evening.  See, I told you there was a real entry coming soon.

Catching Up

I cut myself shaving this morning.

This was no big deal, I do it every now and then, and I was just going about finishing the job, when I noticed that it was still bleeding.  And it just kept going.

That’s when I got a bit dizzy and almost passed out.  I snapped out of it pretty quickly, though.  (Okay, I shrieked ear-piercingly.)  Then I grabbed a washcloth and applied pressure until it finally stopped bleeding…then it started up again, so I applied more pressure, and by the time it stopped for good, the water was, of course, cold.  So enjoyable.  *rolls eyes*

So I’m of course inviting Dean to our New Year’s party this year, and I’m going to tell Milo he’s invited too, because “Nicole needs somebody to kiss at midnight”.  I am awesomely bad, as Gary put it when I told him this.

Here’s a good story.  The other day I was listening to random things on my computer, and Brother was here, and I told him he had to hear this one song, and I opened up Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher”, and he says, “What is this from?”

“Nothing that I know of,” I say.

“No, I’ve heard this before.”

“I don’t know where.”

He has this look like he’s really listening, trying to place it, and then he says, “Yeah, they used to play this on the morning announcements every day last year.”  And then he starts singing it, before the words even started!  I was so shocked.

Frighteningly, I was offered a job at Watson again, one that pays $1.50 more than I make at UNF now, but I declined.

Speaking of UNF, god knows if I’m ever going to get in, but I shan’t bitch about that now.  I’m not in the mood.

I had to go to the mall the other day for a final couple of Christmas presents, and when I got there, I decided I was going to be in and out in about five minutes.

Hot Topic disagreed with me.  They thought it would be funny to hold me hostage for thirty minutes as they fixed their register, which died immediately after scanning my card.

About fifteen minutes went by, and one of the other cashiers walked by and said, “Have you gone crazy yet?”

I said ‘yes’ with a completely straight face.

About five minutes later, I asked them if I could maybe run home to grab my sleeping bag.

When the thirty minutes was up and they were finally able to re-scan and give me a receipt, she asked if I wanted it in the bag or not, and I said, “Yes, please—think I’ll frame this one.”

Fortunately I had nowhere else to be, so it was just a sitcom-lengthed opportunity for many witticisms.

I did see Rainbow when we were in Hot Topic.  He’s in the Navy, on leave right now.  He was with his girlfriend of two years, some really young chick who’s psychotically possessive and stares at me evilly when I speak to or smile at Rainbow.  I grinned back.

Went to Dean the Mormon’s house for dinner that night, and then we headed to St. Augustine to see the lights.  St. Augustine is the most Christmas-y part of Florida, because of all the lights they put up around town.  It’s something you’ve got to see if you live in a subtropical climate.

Last night when I came inside, Brother was sitting at the computer crying.  He moved into his room; I followed him.  He and his friend were sitting out there, and Brother was talking to Dad on the phone (and crying).

The story was, Psychobrat and Spidermonkey walked into the house.  Spidermonkey looked at Brother and said, “Is that your sister sitting at the computer?”

Brother called him a dick, which caused Spidermonkey to leap forth and attempt to strangle him.  Brother kicked him and hurt his foot (hence the crying) and Psychobrat laughed as she watched it all.

When Brother’s friend told me about the laughing, he said, “You know, I really don’t like your sister.  She’s evil.”

I said, “Believe me, we know she’s evil.”

So of course, Brother was the one to get yelled at because he doesn’t know how to get along.  If the situation had been reversed, and he had provoked Psychobrat (or Psychobrat’s boyfriend), he still would have been at fault.  I know, because it’s exactly the same with me.  It doesn’t matter what happens…it doesn’t matter that it is almost always Psychobrat who provokes things…we are the ones who get blamed, because we are not the favorite child.  I’m serious; that’s how it works.

She knows it, too.  That’s why she starts things.  She likes getting us in trouble.

Two Poems by Yours Truly

Not that I claim to be a good poet or anything, but I thought I should post these here, anyway.  (And besides, L’Owen really liked “News Flash”.)

News Flash

News flash: I love you, idiot.

You’re a special breed of stupid; that’s why we’re not together. Then, so am I, and that’s why I still care. But you are a male; thus, you far surpass me in stupidity.

I used to feel that your fantastic, perceptive eyes could see through to my soul. But I know now that you only ever saw through me. You were never able to look at me.

Eyewitnesses, all friends, claimed that we ought to be together—even the first ex, from whom I tried to steal you, and the other, who stole you from me for a small eternity. Now I understand why they all thought we might work: you were too much a moron to see that we should, and I so much of one I believed that we could. What a paradox! (That’s one of those things that could destroy the universe. It chose my heart instead.)

Well, that explains it, you and I—we’re simply too dense to coincide.

 

Writing on the Wall

“Call Marcia, the horizontal mambo whore.”

…Who does that?

Who writes their name and number on the wall?

These people must be really bored

or just really sick

to showcase their number on the wall of the theatre.

We live by the Seinfeldian Creed:

Make fun of everybody.

So we snicker, sitting secluded on the side of the cineplex.

It’s 2 a.m., and there’s no one about

save the solitary, octogenarian security guard.

You see, that’s why

people get away with vandalism.

They’ve got guys like him driving around.  What’s he gonna do?

By the time he got out of his car, they’d already be reaching city limits.

Laugh some more—cackle, really.  We feel evil tonight.

 

Maybe it isn’t their own numbers people write up there.

Maybe it’s revenge.

A game of write your enemy’s number on a wall.

I wish I knew the number of one of my enemies.

“What, you don’t know her number?”  You wear a wicked smile.

Did the streetlight brighten?

Do I hear the “Hallelujah” chorus?

Of course I know her number.

 

A downside of having the Love of your Life

live at your house is that

his girlfriend calls all the time.

Right now, under your roof,

he’s talking to her.

They’re watching SNL together.

They’re going out tonight.

They went out last night.

He wants her to come over.

They’re having phone sex.

You’ve got to escape.

Go to a movie with Katie.

Don’t come back until morning.

 

Of course I know her number.

 

“I have a Sharpie.”  You grin with malice.

“So do I.”  My eyes give off green sparks.

From my purse, the dagger emerges.

We exchange a secret, conspiratorial smirk.

Brutus and Antony on the Ides of March.

“Keep a lookout,” I say.  “I don’t want Grandpa to catch me.”  How would that look?

I leave the door ajar

so you can’t betray me if old Gramps drives up.

“SWARM! SWARM!” you would yell, clicking the lock.

I watch Seinfeld, too.  I know how these things work.

 

The streetlight is brighter.  It’s a spotlight.

Anybody driving by right now could see me.

I unsheathe the dagger.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

A final glance around.

The coast is clear.

I scrawl the number of the Enemy on the wall.

 

About to run back,

I have an afterthought.

“Call me!” I add at the top.

 

In the car, we breathe,

and suddenly wonder if we are on camera.

But it was worth it.  We’ll laugh about this forever.

 

What kind of people write on the wall?

They must be really bored, or really sick.

The Most Important Thing

There’s this guy at work named Ben, but I call him Luke, because something about him reminds me of Luke from Gilmore Girls.  Not that he really looks like Luke, but he has the Luke look, if you get what I mean.  Maybe the personality, too, although I don’t know him well enough.  He definitely has potential to have the personality.  He makes jokes without batting an eyelid, at least.  I don’t know.  We’ll see.

Anyway, so of course when it hit me that he reminded me of Luke, I had to tell him right away, and after my trying to explain what it was, he said, “Is this another way of saying you think I’m hot?”  I said that yes, I supposed it was, and he was like, “Aww, you think I’m hot” and I’m just, “Aww” in a teasing sort of way and walked off, haha.

So tonight as I was leaving, I passed him and waved and said good-bye, and then Michelle and I went to wash our hands in the restroom and came out and there he was, so I said good-bye again, and he kinda squinted his eyes and said, “You’re stalking me….”  I just smiled.  And he said, “I like it!”  He has no idea….

On one of the episodes of Lois & Clark I watched tonight, Clark finally told Lois he was in love with her, and, God…that felt familiar.  I was right there with him as he told her.  I mean, I knew what her reaction was going to be, but I still wanted him to do it….

I wanted to do it for so long, and then I finally did, and now I know that it doesn’t make things better, it just makes things…over.  Where is there to go from that point onward?  Well, I don’t know.  I still talk to him.  And Lois and Clark were able to move on, even though obviously Lois finally realized she was in love with him, too.  The whole situation felt so very familiar.  I felt what he was feeling, and I read her mind from her body language.

I’m not sorry I did it.  I had to.  It’s just…it’s sort of anticlimactic when it finally happens.

I’m starting to think that love doesn’t matter so much anymore.  Well, for me, at least.  It’s fine for other people.  But I don’t need it.  That’s why I suddenly realized so recently that it doesn’t matter whether or not I’m ever with the love of my life.  I don’t need it to be happy.  And I think I can eventually be content in a relationship without being in love.  Maybe I’ll fall in love again; maybe not.  But I feel like it doesn’t matter if I ever do.

Friendship and the kind of love you get from that—that’s the most important thing to me.