Thinkity think think...

My housemate is freaking the shit out of me. He's had too much caffeine and has gone completely mental.

I am feeling a little shakey and on edge today (staying up til dawn reading probably has something to do with this) so forgive any possible incoherence.

(Some of this was written the day before yesterday, in case you hadn't already figured that out.)

Random Tidbits That I May or May Not Make Into Proper Posts:

1) There are a number of things that the CSP boy (lets name him...AFL) said and did while in the bedroom that I think should be sending up red flags, but possibly I am ignoring. Especially since, as I keep reminding myself, I am not planning to date him. Things like, he jokingly pretended to slip it in, after I had said no, using his thumb instead of his you know what. I wasn't all that impressed, seemed like a terrible joke. This makes him seem like a bit of an asshole. Am I being too uptight? There was other stuff, but I forget right this minute.

2) I think I might be getting a little bit of a crush on AFL. The need for reminders that I am not planning to date him, and the stalky myspace behaviour suggest this. Oh oh.

3) Despite all of this, in my typical mothy-flamey fashion, I am planning to text him tommorrow or perhaps Wednesday, to get laid. Cause, c'mon, it's still free sex with a hot boy. Even if he is an asshole, it doesn't matter, I'm not planning to date him anyway! When I first met him, the fact that I didn't really think that much of him was a bonus, cause it meant no problem with pesky things like falling in love etc. Hmm.

4) Umm, there is no four. Sorry dudes. Apart from, I am so screwed about uni, and for some reason I just don't care. I know that is horrific, but I think I have just blocked it out, and am pretending like none of it is happening. Frightening. I am thinking about un-enrolling, I've not been well for a bit of the semester, so hopefully that can be done.

5) Yep, that's definitely all I got for now. Breakfast time, kiddies.



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Bound by hurt dissolved, I pray my hurt dissolves, I set you free, please go...

So I know that last post was a little inane. I have a draft written explaining it all for you, but I just got back from the gig that the ex was also at, so forgive me if I am not all that keen on publishing a post crowing about how I got laid today, right this moment.

I had fun at the gig, thanks to those of you who advised me to go... it was scary seeing him again, but the bands - Wiseacre and The Casino Rumblers, Bad Moon Rising and The Resignators were awesome, and, holy of holies, I finally learned how to skank!

(Only about a hundred rockabilly/ska gigs too late, and just in time for me to not have a boyfriend to skank with anymore. Oh well. Better late than never I suppose.)

I had fun because the bands were so good, but it was hard to be there with him. At the same time it was kind of good. I was nervous as hell before he arrived, but once he did the conversation was actually okay. We are still really focused in on each other when we talk, in that way you are when you're in a couple, but don't notice until you cease being in that couple. It was difficult talking to him- we were talking closely, and there was a lot of subtext. Meaningful glances, searching each other's faces, all of that. You know how it is- you are both busy keeping a stiff upper lip and all that, but deep down all you want to say is 'I miss you. I wish things had worked.' *sigh*

Physically I was okay. Being so close to him was tough; when you get in the habit of touching someone, it becomes so much a part of your routine that its absence is blindingly obvious. Little moments where I think we both had to stop ourselves from doing the casual touching that was so much a part of who we were. He came back from getting a glass of water, and I could see in his whole body that he had to stop himself from reaching out to take my hand, or put his arm around me, like we would have when we were together. I had a little trouble too, mostly had my hands jammed in my pockets or twisted in my belt loops when we were standing close so I didn't crack. When he first arrived he was leaning on the table, and our forearms were about four inches apart- even from that distance my skin burned with wanting to be close to his.

Thankfully we are not complete bullshitters- neither of us tried to pretend that our lives had been awesome since we broke up. I am terrible at acting like everything's cool anyway. He mentioned that his last month had passed in a haze of (pot) smoke, which annoyed me, so I took the only jab I had at him all night, some vague implication that I have been getting back on the horse. So to speak. I regretted the implication pretty much instantly, he doesn't deserve to have me do that, considering he never did me any wrong, really.

We both probably drank a bit more than was wise, considering the circumstances, which is probably why he seemed pretty unhappy for the later part of the evening. I tried to cheer him up, even asked him to dance (yes, in hindsight that was really cruel, but I didn't mean it to be) because I wanted him to be happy, but it was too hard to get through. He was always near impossible to cheer up when sad, and I don't expect him to be all sweetness and light at the moment anyway.

There were burlesque girls also, which was pretty cute to watch, but incredibly uncomfortable to see with him. (However, nothing compared to how it'd be if we were still together, I get very jealous. At the last Wiseacre gig there were hula girls and I went absolutely mental about it, dissappeared in a huff cause he was looking at them. Yes, I'm stupid, I know.)

But yeah...it was hard, and it made me miss him, and we had a (okay, maybe two) nice long hug at the end, and I am having the irrational wanting him back right now. Gah. I am going to bed now, m'kay?

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(PS, I have edited for the millionth time, because I have too much to say, and lack the words to say it. Including the title, choice song lyrics abound!)

'Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah...'

Today I've been thinking a lot. (I know, you guys are like, so totally shocked!) About all sorts of things, many of them not solid or cohesive enough to turn into their own blog post. At least, not just yet. Musings on my relationship and all that. You all know how fucked up you get after you break up with someone- in some ways I think it's worse being the dumper, because then there's always the tempting and torturous possibility of changing your mind.

As though changing my mind would fix something, as though just the act of breaking up could have somehow changed our relationship, changed all the problems- erased all those times when I spoke to him, needing something, and not getting it, whatever it was. I don't really understand it myself. Things just weren't there. It feels horrible- I've never had someone try so hard for me, give everything they had just to please me like that. For it still to not be enough makes me hurt so much.

I don't know if I could go back, go to him and say 'I'm sorry, I've changed my mind- can we go back to the way things were?' and hope that he would take me back. Mostly because while I want him back, I don't want to go back to the way things were- things were difficult, and I spent most of my time, especially when I wasn't with him, torturing myself for not feeling the way I wanted to- about our relationship, about him. And it was horrible. As much as he was the sweetest boy, and caring and giving...god, he gave so much to me, it just wasn't enough. I don't know why... all that time I spent trying to make myself love him. I know, it seems so stupid now- you can't make yourself love someone, no matter how much you want to, no matter how much they might deserve it. I guess you especially can't love someone just because they love you. How different would the world be if you could?

To think all this musing started from some boy's smile on TV. His smile reminded me of the boy somehow, in some way, and I started thinking about how my early relationships have shaped (and are shaping) the kind of boy I'm attracted to. That little smile he had...I don't know what it was about it, just something. Some feeling, some association I made- that little smile makes me think of the good things- when he was giving, and sweet and forgiving and a soft place to fall. I still want that quality in someone else, and I've pegged it to the visual of that little, slyly subtle mousey smile. Crazy, I know.


I've been trying to reclaim my music today, too- some songs that I sort of associated with the boy, listening to them and ignoring the pain, trying to make them -mine- again. They were mine once, and I want them back. Some really sweet powerful songs- like Matis Yahu's "King Without a Crown" and other sillier ones like Wiseacre's "Girl With a Hole In Her Pants"... actually probably neither of those songs were ever just mine, since I discovered them while I was with the boy. But I want them to be mine now. It's hard though, King Without a Crown, while it dragged me out of some (of the many) deep holes I'd gotten into, making me hopeful and optimistic, is still mostly associated with the times I listened to it with the boy- in front of the computer, turned up loud, my back pressed against his chest, his arms around my waist- swaying gently and singing along. Him in that silly whispery little voice of his.

Wiseacre's memories are a bit less silly, even though the songs aren't- it was the first gig we went to together (while we were together, anyway, we both went to The Herd separately before we were going out, and met up with mutual friends there) and even though I was expecting to have a miserable time (because I was miserable) it was fantastic- we danced and cuddled and it filled me with hope and optimism for us- the belief that yes, I could feel the way I wanted, if I really wanted.

I think one of the scariest things at the moment is the possibility that the only reason I didn't love him was because of my anxiety/depression, rather than him just being someone I couldn't love. I am really scared of that, because if it's true then it means I might never fall in love with someone I can actually have. It might sound ridiculous, but it seems very real to me- was it just 'not right' or did I just cut myself off from my feelings somehow, unconciously, because I was too scared?

At first, the first night we met, and our first date (non-official) things were fantastic, the feelings were all there and right and stuff- it wasn't til I had the freak out on that weekend that I stopped having feelings for him. At least I think so- but it's a chicken/egg question, really- did I stop having the feelings cause I freaked out, or did I freak out because I stopped having the feelings? I always felt like it was the second one, but shrinks and friends all reckon that maybe the anxiety and the depression started first, and made me not feel, I tried very hard to believe them- thinking that once I got done being depressed/anxious I would like/love him again.

I don't know. I know that getting to know someone better, and maybe deciding they aren't who you thought they were is just part of the process. But it all seemed so sudden- although I got a bit stressed out at him (while drunk) on the friday night before our date, about some Suicidegirls thing (I stressed that I wasn't 'alternative' enough for him) things were okay then, and then suddenly saturday WHAMMO while talking to him, I start feeling like I'm humouring him, and I don't want to be humouring him- I want to find him interesting and fascinating, especially on our second bloody date, so I freak out. He's really sweet about it. And seven (nearly eight) months later, here I am, trying to figure out the same problem that plagued me from the start. I don't want this relationship to be something that I will always not quite understand, you know? Was he just 'not right' for me? Was it just that I didn't like him? Or did I really feel for him, and somehow un-conciously drive those feelings away?

I'm so lost and scared right now, and rambling, so that's it.

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