I had a lovely day with J on Sat engaged in sadly, very friend-like activity. He’s very handy, my J. Though gal pal notes that no man spends hours at manual labor for a woman he does not want, I am not completely inclined to agree.
J shared that ex relationship disaster could not list three things she (obviously a very horrid woman) liked about him. Is it pathetic that yours truly could list three hundred? I’ve begun sorting out whether I could survive simply being pals with J. and I’m not convinced that I could. I don’t want to smother most of my pals in kisses the way I do J. That would make for awkward friendships.
I’ve started missing those days when he wanted to see me, or got antsy when he didn’t receive an email from me every quarter of an hour. Would love to blame this change on increased use of narcotics. Though, that is a real problem and will also have to be addressed completely separately from this current being in love problem. I find myself wishing J looked as delighted to see me as an ounce of dried leafy green substance or a pile of white pills.
He hasn’t bothered to email in 2 days.
Stopped dating C because I could not stand idea of being with someone who was not J. Now I realize, after two successive C-like dating disappointments, I’m a lost cause. Will die alone. It will be a short, peppy funeral, though. Promise.
kiss my dirty bits