Day Forty-Six

May 20, 2006

Dear Lunch Buddy

I have been so stressed lately, that I have an appointment Tuesday with my doctor to have my heart checked.  Between the anxiety over you and the frustration and irritation of dealing with Roommate, my shoulders are so tense it feels like my head will pop right off.

Roommate is acting like such a gigantic baby.  She’ll stand there arguing with me about whether or not I have the right to evict her, yet tells me that she’s planning on moving out.  SO IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF I HAVE THE RIGHT!  JUST MOVE THE FUCK OUT, YOU STUPID FLAKEY BITCH!  But I digress.

God, just typing that made my head hurt.

I have a couple of prospective roommates.  The one I was really hoping would take the room told me that he couldn’t, because he’s going through a divorce and doesn’t think it would be good to move in with someone he’s "rather attracted to."  There’s a guy wanting to move in, now, who would make life a lot easier for me, but he makes me slightly uneasy.  I’m not sure why, but he does, and I’m really trying to trust my instincts with people.  There’s a woman interested, but she and I were supposed to meet yesterday afternoon, and I haven’t heard from her.  And it’s all relatively moot, because Roommate is being a big stupid cry-baby bitch and won’t give me a move-out date.  GAH!!!!!!

You and I have met for lunch three times this week.  You touch me like you used to — as if touching me keeps you charged the way that any appliance needs electricity to come to life.  We hug and kiss, but you hold something back and I’m not quite sure what that is.

I’m also not sure what to do about this.  While most of me is just so happy to have even a piece of you back in my life, part of me is angry that you’re still finding a way to get some of what you need from me, while having withdrawn almost every molecule of yourself from my life.

And I get even angrier when I think of the measures you have taken to "make it work."  Who are you kidding?  Yourself, and that’s all.  You’ve given up EQ for the most part.  You’ve given up your free Wednesday nights (to sit in a stupid karaoke bar, which you and I both know you hate).  And you’ve given me up, for the most part.  How much more will you have to give up to make her happy?  When will you realize that she’ll never be happy with you because a) she’s not happy with herself, and b) you don’t love her the way a woman wants and needs to be loved?  When will YOUR happiness be as important to you as hers?  And if she’s the one that was being an unreasonable selfish bitch, why do you have to give up everything while she gives up nothing?  She’s still having gang bangs with your blessing!  WAKE UP!  KEEP YOUR GOD DAMN PROMISE AND TALK TO YOUR PARENTS.  GET A CLUE!  GET A SPINE! 

Because as long as there is even a glimmer of hope that you’ll come to your senses, I’m going to hang on.