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.

I did eventually send J details of this latest trial. Male sympathy is amusing in that it nearly lacks sympathy altogether, but it is quite practical. I don’t know whether it’s blind affection for anything J-related or not, but I did feel much better by end of the afternoon.

I spent evening engaged in manual labor which succeeded in focusing mind on things completely unrelated to drinking father, heartless mother or the darling and elusive J.

Must do that more often.

I am suddenly in middle of yet another personal crisis and must say, I am quite tired of being part of my genetically-assigned family. Father of said family, ‘recovered’ alcoholic of 30-some odd years, has apparently headed back to the bottle after discovery that  his wife of 25 years requests separation and, “never loved him.”

My first inclination is to send aching message to J in search consolation of some sort. But I’m v. aware that J is on the frantic side of busy and would not be source of comfort that I am seeking. Disappointed even before the attempt. Should I give him more credit, maybe? I’d love for him to say, “Hey, let’s go for a ride. Take your mind off things for a bit” or to offer no more than really great J hug. Not likely to get either though, as he has band practice every night this week.

Find myself foolishly wishing I was a set of drums.

Gal Pal wisely noted, “Really all you want is to fall into his very masculine arms…..however, if you were a set of drums….how would you accessorize?”

I’m certain I would find a way. Even as a drum. I’ve got a knack for that sort of thing.

Just received an email from J. Dare to answer with current state of affairs?

I have survived another birthday.

Had dinner with only the best of friends at cozy, don’t-have-to-rush ethnic restaurant. J brought flowers. They were lovely; I was quite surprised. Not surprised that they were lovely–surprised that he brought them, rather. Got rather tame body piercing, which J says is hot…though he’s yet to see it. Haven’t seen him since the stabbing…er, piercing. Haven’t seen him in nearly a week, come to think of it.

Had wanted him to meet Smart Assed Sibling when she was in town. Didn’t call him, though, as I felt sheepish about imposing. I was quite delighted when he was disappointed that did not. I would not have been pestering him, he said. Always wonder about my limits with that one. I’m at this moment willing self not to email him. Was first to do so yesterday. Though, he did say emails from yours truly were singular bright spot in his day.

Nice to be bright spot in anyone’s day, though particularly J’s.

Will be seeing J for dinner tomorrow night…shamefully, at my invite. All reason says to abandon the J Project and spend time on other, more worth-while pursuits (field hockey, quilting, or acquisition of miscellaneous body piercings). However, emotion and reason being two very different things, it simply cannot be helped. Also  it cannot be helped that I am still quite in love with said Project.

J does not NOT want me (has been established quite beyond doubt), yet clearly does not want yours truly exactly enough to make any needed adjustments. I’m turning out to be very sad story. Pathetic.

Would be quite another thing if J would simply say, “I don’t want you.”  Then Icould cry for a good long (very long) time and never date again. What would be the point?

Can tell I’m facing another birthday.

It might have been big mistake kissing J.

And, then again, it might not have. But I will do my utmost to neurotically dismantle and re-live said moment over and over. Dissecting it will not change the ultimate outcome, nor help my neurosis, but it will take mind off work… so I am thus being paid to obsess.

Will add said skill to my resume.

(I’m convinced this is genetic problem. Imagine I will seek help in my early thirties.)

Am fighting hangover as spent a good part of the day drinking bloody marys with gal pals.

Must add that not 15 minutes after previous confession of insanity, J did call. Not only did he call (good) but wanted to get together (very good). Though we are not acutally “dating,” did feel compelled to kiss him when he dropped by. Couldn’t be helped. Simply adore kissing him and since I have gone so long without doing so, felt that had I earned it.

J is back from holiday. Though, yours truly wouldn’t know from any contact or anything.

Have checked airline arrivals. Yes, I am indeed sick.

Had a dream about J last night in which life was perfect. Knew just then it was indeed a dream. Even went on goodfaith date last night with C. Nice enough, but just too different of temperments. His = very nice. Mine = in love with other man. Poor soul has been calling all day. Bless the caller ID.

Have spent 20 something years without J in my life. Why is it that facing even the next couple of months without him seems so… daunting?

Made it a ritual of sorts to search for his smell on the bed after he’d gone. J always smelled nearly edible – the cologne he’d wear, clearly knowing how edible it made him. He stopped smelling of it a month or ago and I took it as the first sign of the unraveling of us. It’s not so dramatic as all that. Disappointing, sure. Perhaps if it were more dramatic, more definitive, then could move on. But am instead, still waiting… with someone else on the line. C is bright, funny, thoughtful, dependable. Broody, perhaps? Maybe too serious. Have a hard enough time being too serious myself. But in all other respects, a better match, on paper. Love J for his irresponsibility. And hate it, too.

It’s lovely to be a feminist and all. Have gotten in plenty a tizzy over the inequity of the female role in this bizarre universe. Have even tried out the independent, “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” track, and been quite good at it. Eventually, however, I have settled upon this conclusion:

This fish needs a bicycle.

If not for comfort, at least for entertainment’s sake.