Perhaps am neurotic. Perhaps? Ha! And perhaps am a game player, as some think, with regards to J. But do not think so. Feel somewhat lost over how can possibly explain such bizarre Best-Good Friendship even to those who see it in day-to-day reality. Gal Pal who am certain loves me dearly, does not support said Best-Good Friendship. And has been to her frustration (and that of many, many others), that have not heeded advice of many to simply give J up.

Is fuckwit, they say.
Yes. Agree is fuckwit.
You’re torturing yourself… letting him do this to you.
Perhaps so.

But in spilling currently overly-nostalgic fishy guts to WLE, was reminded of following scene from once v. beloved book. V. wealthy (and grumpy) landowner to his governess:

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you- especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,- you’d forget me.

Feel v. much that connection with J is physical. No, J and yours truly are not in love. But even removing all lusty factors, is love, in simplest and best form. Yes, do realize that J is not mine and that indeed, must move on. (Would love nothing more. Often finding v. comfy, good karma bed far too wide for lone fish.) Am simply worried that string will snap before am ready to be forgotten. Best can hope for is that string will simply dissolve for me, as it clearly already has for J.

Main-lining tequila.

Fun in theory, though a bit harsher in gray light of next day. Waking up on v. cold bathroom floor in wee hours of morning (miraculously in PJ’s but still wearing make-up and glasses) not exactly glamorous. If am trying to prove Over-Reactive Sister wrong, am doing fine, fine job, must say. Will now revert back to other Self-Destructive Coping Mechanisms that do not produce coma-like results or unnecessary bonding with certain porcelain bathroom fixtures.

Am still searching for some sort of mental-recovery technique that does not involve causing bodily harm or incurring substantial debt. Again, will seek therapy in early thirties when can afford it.

For now am feeling overwhelmed. Not only with Fish’s-Family-is-Crazy feelings, but am also caught so off guard by amazing amount of support received from unexpected sources. Am v. grateful fish.

Have been fielding calls from the UMF for two days. Am in love with Caller ID. Thought was safe picking up phone at work, but was wrong. Must remember to get Spy Gear for work phone.

H: Marketing, this is H.
UMF: Hi, dear.
H: Uh, hi mom. I’m kinda… (busy? completely strung out? avoiding you?)
UMF: I know you’re busy; I just wanted to say hi. This thing with your father…
H: Um, well, I can’t really talk about that here.

Is from other planet, that woman. Finally, wrote horribly scathing post to public blog, but thought better of said attempt at tearing family to shreds, and sent family-wide email instead. Will not be part of solution, told them, as do not feel part of problem. Will also not be home for holidays as desperately need break from all of this. The end.

Perhaps will spend Christmas in sunny, tropical climate. Or in apartment with Not-as-Reluctant Kitten. Suppose it doesn’t matter.

Had most amusing e-conversation with J this afternoon. Was really v. big mistake to become best friends with bicycle that fell in love with… as cannot seem to part with him, even if only for these delightful, and wonderfully passive-aggressive displays of emotional fuckwitism.
(New word. Will make part of vocabulary. Fuck-wit-ism.)

H: My sister thinks I’m an alcoholic junkie.
J: I hope you just laughed that off…
H: I did, but I’m an alcoholic and probably in denial.
J: Yeah, you really have a problem. Here, call this number. It’s a teen drug/alcohol/suicide hot line. Call quick, I’m worried!
H: They told me to go get knocked-up and then call back. I wasn’t qualified.
J: Need help?
H: Sure! Got any hot friends?
J: I don’t know… Do I?

BAM! And suddenly are back to Saturday night’s Flirtatious Fish incident. Am v. well aware that J wants to hear that yes, do indeed think A is adorable and there were indeed miniature spark-type emissions on night in question. But will not do it. Am smarter fish than that. Will wait for A to say it first.

Just received e-mail from V. Calm Brother and was not very calm note at all.

Seems sisters have done far-too-good job keeping lid on UMF/NACF problems and has just now leaked to final sibling. VCB is quite angry that has been left out of information loop. Was accused of being sorority ring leader. Is there no end? Thought was right thing to do, keeping responsibility to self. Am feeling quite battered. Must harness bad energy, though, as have gained substantial weight in last four weeks over inability to cope without two, new best friends, Ben and Jerry. Feeling battered and overweight. Horrid combination. Like cottage cheese and fruit.

J still not returning e-mail.

Fuck.

Knew before going to beer bash that Guitar Player A (A, for short) would be in attendance. For this reason (and repressed, subconscious desire to make Js head spin with Oh-My-God, I-Let-Her-Go regret), made every effort to look stunning. Ride showed up twenty minutes early, so ended up being stunning once-removed, but was good enough.
Beer bash was, to great dismay, too crowded to find A and friends. Had long girl talk with girlfriends of J’s roommates and was finally settling into idea of flirtless evening when saw J off at a distance talking to A. Made Mona-Lisa like eye contact with A and was waved over. Bingo. Was told I looked “smoking.” Brilliant! Stood for next half hour with A’s arm ’round waist, laughing and flirting. Lord, am quite charming at times. J made several blatant attempts to redirect conversation or lure attention to himself, but was being quite persnickety and was having none of it. Was useless flirting as A is not only J’s guitar player but v. close friend and coworker. Still, felt good and necessary. Has lovely blue eyes and brightest white smile have seen in long time and was v. worth all primping efforts.
J has been ignoring e-mail attempts all day. Wonder if am on black list. Sigh. Oh well.
Thought was going to be fired this morning, too. Received “be in my office first thing Monday morning” e-mail over weekend and nearly had heart attack. Turns out, did not get huge deal was working on. But instead of being fired, got pep talk about not being discouraged. Discouraged? Forget discouraged… try TRAUMATIZED. Will make note to self to avoid reading work e-mail over weekend.

Can hear ridiculously good-looking next door neighbors watching Sunday afternoon football game (favored team must be winning). Are very loud. Only thing louder than said activity are newly-wed, upstairs neighbors having sex in bathroom. RK is napping in sunny spot on bed and am fighting strong desires to join in nap time festivities. Despite weekend of relaxation with Gal Pal, am feeling v. tired and not much like self.

Had v. first passive-aggressive spat with J last night. And though was tipsy, was unfortunately not drunk enough to have blocked it completely from memory. Should be feeling fine about spat, as had to have been what was going for when 1) blatantly flirted with cute Guitar Player at beer bash (while clearly agitated-looking J stood by) 2) took wrong side in roommate/girlfriend feud and 3) left J with feuding roommate and girlfriend to attend other party. Was obviously the responsibility of yours truly, yet am refusing to pick up cell phone and make amends with “sorry about last night/ hope we’re cool” phone call. Just can’t seem to do it. Could not seem to be able to show up to watch football game either. Am clearly not missed, though, as phone has not rung.

Am purposefully destroying best-good friendship? Don’t know. Making waves has never been tendency. Perhaps is why am feeling so bad. Am supposed to go away on nature trip with J and feuding roommate, B & Thin Blonde Girlfriend next weekend. Am feeling v. apprehensive.

And hungry. Time for snack, and then perhaps nap.

Am wildly successful Kitten-Mother!

RK has habit of jumping up onto the bed while am sleeping, and usually try not to move as am attempting to foster good, comfy feelings between once-wild kitten and yours truly. But, surprised self and Kitten when reached out to pet her. Kitten surprised yours truly when she did not run away. Had v. long purr and cuddle session at way-too-early o’clock in the morning, shooed then-hyper kitten out to living room to ravage houseplants and returned to sleep. Had yet another long purr and cuddle session after alarm went off. Look for new book on successful kitten-mothering at book retailers soon. Am brilliant! She loves me, she really loves me. Or loves to get scratched in all the unreachable itchy spots. Either way. Will take it.

Gal Pal is coming in from the City today for yet another weekend of uninterrupted doing-nothing kind of fun. Are becoming v. good at this, she and I — V. good indeed.

Break-through conversation with v. Wise and Lovely E-Pal:

H: Why am I so ridiculous? WHY? Because J is HOT? What kind of reason is that?
WLE: No… it’s not due to hotness. You’re invested. And you know deep-down he is a great guy.
H: I know, I know. But it’s so v. awful.

Was whimpering over margaritas last night about this very thing. J, for all fuckwit, idiot tendencies is just too important to this silly gal. More important than breathing, it seems. Give up J… give up breathing. No two ways about it. How did this happen? Is unprecedented, really.

H: This has never happened before. Am usually so selfish.
WLE: Maybe this recently-discovered side of yourself is also something you like… Which you can attribute to J.
H: Oh my god, you’re good. WLE, the therapist.

Perhaps this sad, inability to part with most recent un-boyfriend has nothing to do with fact that J is gorgeous, or funny, or generous, but fact that makes yours truly feel all of above things. J does make me the best version of me. Most well balanced (perhaps not sane, though), sensitive and unselfish have ever been. Am horribly frightened that if were to give J up, would never feel quite right again. Sigh.

God love the Wise and Lovely E-Pals of the world. Indeed.

Am fighting battle with self-destructive coping mechanism and cannot say am coming out the victor.

Lunch yesterday was a pint of Ben & Jerry’s (cookie dough) over a pile of overdue bills. Dinner, margaritas with Gal Pal over pile of overhashed girl talk. And breakfast, assuming is actually most important meal of day, was biggest disaster. While RK devoured bowl of expensive gourmet tuna fish (Am horrible Kitten-Mother and forgot to buy kitten food again), yours truly settled down to left-over apple pie and french vanilla ice cream. Is disguisting, I know. Am avoiding having confrontation with bathroom scale.

J-Brand sympathy coming in handy once again. As was on his way to Finally-Complete Band practice, J dropped off favorite movie, leftover apple pie and icecream. Is good for some things, that one.

On way to work, passed mainly unattractive, overly dressed man in suit on sidewalk and nearly took v. sad looking fellow home with me. Why? Sad man smelled like chocolate. Don’t know if is self-destructive coping mechanism at work, but producers of pherimone-smelling colognes had wrong idea. Chocolate. Make any poor sap smell of it and even v. picky fish will ask him home for some Couch Capades. Indeed.

Will start self-controlled eating habits again tomorrow. Promise.

UMF: I just wanted to talk to you about the family brouhaha.
H: (Am not a therapist. Am NOT a therapist) Oh, good lord.
UMF: Yes, well, I don’t think there’s anyone that can say that they haven’t in any way contributed to problems in the family, so I think we just all have to be committed to working together to solve them.
H: (You are certifiably crazy, do you know that?) We? I haven’t even lived there in years.
UMF: I just want to get everyone in a problem-solving mode rather than a finger-pointing mode.
H: (Finger painting? Yes, that sounds much nicer than having this conversation. Oh? What’s that? You said finger POINTING?) Hmmm… well, I have to go now.
UMF: Love you.
H: Mmmhhhhmmm. Bye.

We? Am outraged at sudden inclusion of bitterly unhappy children in sordid, ridiculous mess parents are making of selves. We have problems to work on? WE?? Personally, did not marry man whom I do not love, do not have failing marriage and children who resent me. Am NOT therapist and already ran away from home. Which means, am quite certain, that this family brouhaha has nothing, or less than nothing to do with yours truly. Am selfish, yes. But perhaps is character trait and if so, is not one I intend to mess with.

Not now. Good God, not now.

Fuck
*gasp*
Fuck
The UMF knows all about the NACF’s activities of late. He told her everything.

The shit hath hitteth the fan…eth.

Am not entirely certain that company which employs yours truly intended email use to take on such important fuctions as the following e-conversation. Am also not sure that company which employs yours truly would continue to do so if was aware that the following e-conversation was ONLY thing accomplished by this employee yesterday. Ah,well.

H: Um, I ate too much. Hope you don’t mind if your pal gets really, really fat. Lord, I feel disgusting. Steak, cheese and onion. Extra grease, please.
J: I wouldn’t care if I had to use a fork lift to get you in the car. I’d love you anyway. But wouldn’t that be funny if you really needed a fork lift?
H: Uh, yeah. HI-larious. But…you sure you’re up for learning to work a fork lift? And, um…might have to take out one of your car seats. That cool?
J: I’m up for learning! Anything for you.
H: I’m on the internet looking up forklift operating instructions.
J: HAHAHAHA! you know you drive ‘em backwards!
H: Isn’t that a backhoe? Besides, I don’t need to know that. You’re going to be driving. I’m riding. Remember?
J: Oh yeah. Well, they’re kinda pricey!
H: You sayin’ I’m not worth it?? Does this mean I’ll have to stop binge eating?!
J: Yeah, let’s just pretend it never happened. It would cost way too much to get that big.
H: So, I shouldn’t have had those M&Ms?

As are now Best-Good Friends, and is most certainly a Best-Good Friend-type activity, was invited out to meet Js parents this weekend. Have a v. good sense of just how bizarre above situation is, but at the time, was quite nice. Am no longer in love with J, but with his mother. JMother is absolute most lovely person have ever met.

JM: He can be such a little pain, can’t he? But you gotta love that pain.
H: Yes, you do.
JFather: You make him be good to you. I’m sure he can be tough to date.
H: Well, he was. But we don’t date anymore, so it’s some other girl’s problem, I guess.
JM: (Looking disappointed) Oh, well…
JF: His loss! I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy.
J: (returning from loading Mother gifts into car) You ready?
H: Yeah. It was so wonderful to finally meet you.
JM: (giving enormous hug) Don’t you let him drive too fast!
J: What’s she going to do?
JM: Pry your foot off the accelerator. And you put the top up on your car. She’s going to freeze. Do you need a jacket, honey?
H: No, no. Thank you. I’ll be fine. He’ll put the top up.
JM: Let me get you a jacket…
J: Mom, I have a heater! And I’ll put the top up. Damn!
JM: Don’t talk like that. Now, drive safe.
J: Yes, mommy.

Was something out of charming sitcom. Was v. in love with JFamily.

Am turning into train-wreck of person with all this drama. Am fairly certain will be a made-for-tv movie in no time (Probably starring grown child star from cheesy sitcom). Am also fairly certain will end with yours truly rocking back and forth on porch, surrounded by Reluctant Kittens, talking of the boy who didn’t love her. Will die alone. Perhaps will get Justine Bateman to play grown self, as is in need of work. Indeed.

Am v. mixed-up. Not in pleasant, blended, frozen margarita way, though. Am beginning to think am suffering from contagious J-Skitzophrenia. Was guest at practice of Finally-Complete Band practice last night and met much heard-about band members. Was immediately made one of Finally-Complete-Band family.

GuitarPlayerA: J, she’s hot.
J: Yeah, H is my best-good-friend.
GuitarPlayerB: With bennies?
J: (looking at me) No… no benefits. That’s wrong.
H: Hello? Yeah, hi guys… I’m sitting right here.
GuitarPlayerA: So, if she’s your best-good-friend, she knows about the girl from work and Friday night?

Felt strange, warm fuzzy feeling of Forest-Gump-Pride at being called best-good friend. Then had skitzophrenic moment of heart stopping terror when A. mentioned Mystery Hook-up Girl from Friday night. Do not care, told self. Do not care. But felt Julia-Roberts-Driving-Bread-Truck type panic, all the same. Is v. good thing music was v. v. loud and not v. condusive to moment of despair. Sat with J in car for half hour talking after practice, feeling good Peas & Carrots feeling.

J: Sorry I didn’t tell you about MHG. I didn’t sleep with her or anything…it’s just, she has a boyfriend so…
H: So, you’re the other man? Don’t be the other man, J. It’s tacky.
J: I know. It was a mistake. I just don’t want you to think I’m an asshole.
H: Oh jeez, J. I don’t think you’re an asshole… just makes me feel like a bad friend if you leave things out. Like you can’t talk to me.
J: I’m sorry. But you know, everything I do, I think: “Will H be pissed at me for doing this?” Your opinion matters a lot and I don’t want you to think badly of me.
H: I don’t. I wish I could, but … I don’t, J. Honest.

Went in house, put on warm socks and went to bed. Was happy to note that first thought on waking was not of J. Indeed. First thought was of Reluctant Kitten clawing at new, gauze curtains.
Sigh.
Need breakfast.

J: You are so damn cool. Seriously.
H: You should know.
J: Huh?

(Thank GOD for noisy restaurant)

H: I said, Thanks. You’re pretty great yourself.
J: It’s what I love about you.
H: Kill me now. You’re sweet.
J: The next girlfriend I have will…….

(…as J continues list of qualities that next girlfriend must have in common with yours truly)

H: You using that steak knife? If not, you want to stab it through my heart? Oh, it’s already dirty? Forget it, then.

(Nod, smile, nod.)

J: She’ll definitely have to be cool with sitting around, laughing at (insert name of OUR favorite movie here).
Waitress: Can I get you anything else?
H: A clean steak knife please? Another margarita. Thanks.
J: You’re quiet.
H: I’m drunk. Thank God

Day like today presents four options:

1. Sylvia Plath-like head-in-oven technique
2. Steak knives in mock remebrance of previous night
3. Plain
4. Peanut

Opted for plain and peanut. Figure single-handedly supporting both Weight Watchers and M&M Mars companies reason enough for living.

Standing at convenience store counter, watching young, Sparkly-Eyed Italian fill plastic bags with cheap kitten food (George Harrison has ceased pleas for Science Diet), anit-bacterial house cleaner, half dozen Lean Cuisine and pint of Ben & Jerrys, and came to sudden and horrible realization that, without realizing it, had become… that girl. Blasted pitiful stereotype of feminine singledom! Sparkly Eyed Italian recognized it, too. Could see it between sparkles … that, “girl at counter must be single, talks to cat, keeps neat, tidy cupboards and never cooks; Is in love with two men on cardboard ice cream container and will die alone” look of pity. Felt like standing on counter and making announcement of all non-pathetic qualities possessed by yours truly, returning ice cream to deep freeze and running from store.

Only thing keeping self from thrusting head in oven was declaration of love from Reluctant Kitten who had decided Kitten-Mother was in need of grooming. Was v. v. sweet. See? Am not in love with two men on carboard ice cream container… am in love with Reluctant Kitten. Less pathetic? Harldy.

Fact that forgot to rinse conditioner from hair this morning only adding to desire to crawl into v. comfy bed for remainder of week and watch pathetic, single gal movies. However, am having drinks with J after work, and thus cannot retreat to downy sanctuary. What to do with greasy hair…

Am remembering last attempt at platonic-drink-getting with J (failed horribly at platonic part, am ashamed to say), and Concerned Roommate stepped in:

CR: Don’t go.
H: Don’t go? Why not? To make some sort of statement??
CR: It’s my job to say those things, and your job to ignore me. It’s called friendship. I know you’ll go…
H: It’s true. If you didn’t say that, you’d be a bad friend. And if I didn’t go, I’d be… well, I’d be anyone but… me. Ha!
CR: Yep…it’s a timeless ritual… I bet it started in Greece.

Have been asked to have drinks with J on Wednesday and been invited to hear his Finally-Complete Band on Thursday.

Why?

Perhaps because am now friends with J, and previously-mentioned activities are common for friends? Must be. Takes v. level-headed and in-control type gal to go about these new Friend Activities without recurring episodes of blank staring and intermittent ice-cream binges. At present time, am neither in-control nor level headed, do not think, and thus am beginning to fall into v. bad pattern. Have not lost all sensibilities though, and am certain will recover after intense therapy or afternoon of shopping.

Reluctant Kitten made leap last night, literally, and not only joined yours truly on v. comfy bed (though am not certain kitten hair blends well on white comforter), but fell asleep briefly. Are approaching normal levels of Kitten/Kitten-Mother comfort, am hoping. Also have learned that RKs singing is NOT George Harrison requesting v. expensive wet kitten food, as cheaper brand goes much faster and elicits less singing. Am going back to cheap stuff. Kitten should not be better fed than Kitten-Mother.

Have not worn fleece-lined Mourning Shroud in days, minus brief, after-shower stint. Will be returning Js sweatshirt this weekend. Am making no promises to self on this regard. All in time.

Extraordinary how difficult it was to leave v. comfy, good-karma filled bed after spending many of weekend hours engaged in pursuit of doing absolutely nothing. Is price one pays for such time well-spent, suppose. Is also extraordinary how galpal and self can pass hours in said nothingness and have absolutely fabulous time doing so. Do regret, however, massive amounts of food consumed.

Evening with gal pal and Complete Strangers clearly successful as well and do wish that I lived much closer to the City as would make such wonderful playmates. Is not often a girl meets the Voice of Barbie, or boy so unfortunate as to have not been given a last name, must say. Many interesting conversations, but one of note:

Gal Pal: So, do you write things for Talking Ken, too?
Voice of Barbie: Not really. It’s 99% Barbie.
H: See, that’s because Ken is really not necessary. I mean, most girls have something like one Ken and thirty-five Barbies. Ken’s good for taking Barbie to the ball, driving her around in the Barbie Dream Car and the occasional wedding scenario, but really, Barbie doesn’t need Ken.
GP: Barbie doesn’t need Ken, huh? Interesting…..
VOB: I’m staying out of this…
H: Not fair. I didn’t mean… Ack. I’m just not Barbie. She’s plastic! God. must… drink…more.

Note about boy on bus this morning: Was, in most ways, unremarkable excepting two things: v. nice suit and wonderful dimples. Said dimples seemed to beg, in mid-western corn-fed, down-home bred way, to be taken home and fed fried chicken and potatoes. If run into suited stranger again, will be tempted to do just that. Jell-o for dessert.

Dear Murphy,

Fucked Fish

J came by last night. Wanted to know if sick fish needed anything. Could he feed Reluctant Kitten for me while was away? Do I feel alright? Is hard enough to remain unaffected by J — every look, touch, every word that could have at least thirteen thousand meanings — so, uncharactersitic moment of nonself-involvement was v. v. tricky. Am fairly certain that was able to deflect each offer with substantial amount of grace. Or was it frigidity? Being sick is v. v. undignified to begin with, but was also ill-prepared to defend self against this caring version of J.

Must build up good, strong J callous. Figure will be like breaking in new pair of shoes (since am gluttonous consumer, do this v. often). Will initially be painful and each encounter with this new, reformed J is going to cause few blisters, am sure. But eventually, will build up thicker skin… immunity to J.

J callous.

If were new boots, would simply wear second pair of socks, or preventative band aid. Am finding, however, that are no preventative bandaids for exposed hearts. Am counting on callous to form quite quickly. Is the only way will make it through this: good, strong J callous.

Am feeling v. self-satisfied and quite proud of self for unprecedented display of restraint. Last night, being Wednesday, and night usually set aside for watching favorite movie with J, could not help but be excited when phone rang around 8. Have special ring on cell phone so, if is J, know right away.

J: Hey. What are you up to?
H: Eating very irresponsible and bad-for-me dinner. You?
J. Making spaghetti. Do you want to come over? B’s not home….
H: Hmmm….(many, many thoughts going through head like, ‘Do I accept and play into this sick, sad game like I want to?’) Actually, I think I’m just going to stay in tonight. I’m kind of tired.
J: Oh. Um. Ok. That’s fine. I mean, that’s more than fine. I guess I’m tired, too. I just told you I’d call, so I am.
H: You did? When?
J: I don’t know. Maybe I just thought I did. Well, ok…
H: I’ll let you get back to your spaghetti. Talk to you tomorrow.
J: Sure. I’ll be around.

Went to bed early, and so as not to make too many steps toward healing from fuckwit separation anxiety, slept in Js sweatshirt. Again. Am pathetic. Proud and pathetic. Quite the combination.

***and now, kids***

Have been blessed by the gods and am being sent home from work by Suddenly-Generous Boss. Perhaps SGB cannot stand any more of the sniffling or blind groping for tissue box. But am a bit alarmed by generosity, must say. Will be fired, am certain. Have been told to take day off tomorrow as well. Which is better for me, as have been planning to do so for weeks in order to head down to the City for fun-filled weekend with gal-pal and Complete Strangers. Complete Stranger side of equation has this fish feeling apprehensive. Or could be over-the-counter cold medecine making fluttery sensation in chest cavity. Am inclined to think it is the latter.

Am headed home to climb into bed. What am not sure of is whether will put on warm, fuzzy, fuckwit sweatshirt before doing so. Sigh. Fuckwit.

While making bed last night with brand new, v. soft sheets, was reminded of Sex and the City episode in which highly neurotic red headed character buys v. expensive sheets to improve her bed karma. Idea was, if bed is a place you like to be, others will want to be there as well. Finished making the bed and hoped that had not gone too far, as don’t want to improve bed karma too much. Isn’t a neighborhood event after all. Is it possible to ask karma to specifically only include attractive, single, non-emotional fuckwits in late twenties to early thirties? Perhaps is asking too much of karma.

Perhaps is not even something that this fish needs to be worrying about as even Reluctant Kitten will only get into v. comfy bed when I am not present.
Must not rely too much on bed karma and must stop treating Sex and the City as if is self-help program.

Am having daydreams about minor natural disaster occuring at workplace so will have to go home, put on v. soft yoga pants, make tea, and bond with Reluctant Kitten for remainder of day. Find self staring at fire alarm, willing it to sound off, and being v. disappointed that sadly, possess no Carrie-like telepathic skills. Some things are simply and completely unfair. Not that I want to be doused in blood of smelly barn-yard animal or hurl knives at UMF with mind-power, while wearing silly nightgown. Hardly. But could really use a day off.

Am legitimately starting to feel sick, although, as am certain is result of current office stress, refuse to buckle and abandon ship. Am so v. important and necessary to resolution of major office crises (printer errors, malfunctioning staplers and corrupted fucking files alike)… that must not leave these people to their own devices.

Lunch-date Conversation:

A: Those new boots?
H: Ummm… kinda, I guess.
A: Not a scratch on them.
H: Yes, there is. See? Besides, I just take good care of my things, A.
A: No, I know you. You probably have 30 pairs of shoes in your closet and these look good because you rotate and probably only wear them once in a blue moon.
H: I used to be worse. I probably had 30 pair of black shoes back in the day. This is an improvement.
A: Back when you used to buy your entire identity?
H: Easy! You really think I’m completely baseless, don’t you?
A: Just waiting for you to call me a hypocrite. By the way, is that a new jacket?

Quote from all-time favorite movie running through head, “So you think that’s all I am? Just a ditz with a credit card?”

Will not be having lunch with A anytime soon. He makes this fish feel horrible.

Did laundry together tonight. Like before. J picked me up, we washed, waited, sitting on folding tables, swinging legs back and forth talking about everything like always. Folded together.

J: You don’t mind helping me real quick do you?
H: Of course not.
J: It’s just tshirts and stuff…
H: It’s no mystery…
J: What do you mean?
H: Even if it wasn’t just shirts… It’s no mystery.
J: Oh yeah… well, yeah…
Bought new sheets together. Chose the color for him.
J: I really need a new comforter… it’s coming all unstitched… but you know that.
H:… yeah. I do.

He loves his car. More than life. More than drums. Had been back and forth on names for her for months. Finally, told me he picked one.

J: I decided what to name my car.
H: You did?? FINALLY. What is it?
J: H. After you.
H: …that’s so nice…but I thought you were going to sell her and get something…newer?
J: I decided to keep her.
H: You love that car.
J: I do love that car.

Am strangely ok with this. Though, don’t know why. Has been suggested that only a clean break will set yours truly on right path to future aquisition of new, better bicycle. Somehow, above solution doesn’t feel right and am more inclined to follow instinct and keep bike around for nostalgia and well, is v. comfortable bicycle. And aside from everything, do love J v. v. much. Write this as am eating remainder of pint of Ben and Jerrys. Must not be completely ok. Am scraping bottom of carton.

Slept last night in Js bed. And J… slept on the couch.

Days (Months, if am being honest) of ambiguity and walking some bizarre fine line are over. Over.

Yeah right.

Am trying to convince self that am indeed fine with outcome. Perhaps was silly to think that would feel better after all of Js sincere apologies and praise for my forebearance, but do not feel all that much better. Told him could not stand this back and forth that have grown so accustomed to. J was sorry for confusing me. Said he loves me. And knew right then, actually, think we BOTH knew right then that it was true, but there was no more. No I love you, but… No I love you, so… Just, I love you. J tried more explanations and apologies in his own chemically-enhanced way, but finally, didn’t need them anymore. Is funny that I can feel so much better and still, so much worse. Was so nice to hope that we could un-change whatever changed between us, but is also nice to have permission, from self, to fall in love with someone else. Eventually.

J and I will still be friends in that tricky, sometimes painful way. We will love each other. Only one side will be the You’re-so-good-to-me-I-appreciate-You love and on other side will be the You-Make-Me-Dizzy love. Said dizzy kind of love goes away. At least is what am hoping for.

Remember thinking would cry pathetically and eternally and vow never to love again when finally accepted J was not the one for this Fish. But am feeling neither pathetic, nor possessing energy to weep eternally. Am instead feeling like tracking down Reluctant Kitten for some forced bonding time and eating either A) entire pizza or B)pint of Ben and Jerrys. Perhaps will do both as am feeling have earned it. Will toast to uncertain future. And tragic platonic love.
And sanity. Will toast to my sanity.

Am proud to say Kitten Vocalization Lessons seem to be paying off. Though, have yet to get Reluctant Kitten to answer any important questions (such as: “Where is kitten-mommy’s eyelash curler?” and “Must I employ bribes to make you love me?”), have witnessed the amazing: Reluctant Kitten sings. Indeed. At first thought something was dreadfully wrong when heard meow-like sounds from under bed. RK has never done more than purr. Thought that I had, after last military tactic of grab-unsuspecting-kitten-and-snuggle, broken kitten. Not so. Discovered, after changing music on stereo, that RK was simply taking first step towards becoming Reluctant Kitten Diva. Expect that soon will lose “Reluctant” part of title altogether and yours truly will be proud owner of Kitten Diva, singing cat. At least one of us will be famous. Is partial to Beetles music and her favorite track, “Help!” Was beginning to suspect Reluctant Kitten of sending SOS to outside world. “Help! Kitten-Mother is tragic, pathetic being.” But, E-pal, D, suggests otherwise.

D: Maybe George Harrison is actually trapped in her body and is sending you a message.
H: George Harrison wants more Science Diet wet food?!

Hmmm. Not certain, but beats alternative theory of unsatisfied Kitten on way to stardom. Will pick up more Science Diet on way home from work. Would feel badly having unhappy Mr. Harrsion crying from under bed.