All Alone

Well, you all know how I'm feeling today, and, guess what, I haven't had any human contact since I basically was an asshole and a few steps away from storming out on Jessa this morning, so I'm back to post yet again. I hate it when there's no one here. No students, cool. But usually beth's here with me and being a conversational care-taker (which I working on helping her out with) and rationalizing all my bullshit for me and well, I'm a talker, that's why I go to therapy, I need to talk it out and figure it out and the ten pushups I got down on the floor and did earlier to try and relieve this anger and frustration just didn't do it for me, so I'm back here and there's not any work to do anyway so I've been surfing and I found something that really was able to express some anger and Thank All Things Holy I don't watch Fox News, but here's someone getting mad in a perfectly logical and rational way over it and I think you should all check it out because really agree.

And I'm sorry to be an even bigger asshole, but I think all religions are kinda full of shit. I don't want to believe in anything but myself because all of that just dissapoints you and you realize it's full of shit before the end of it. There's a logical explanation for it all.

Anyway, I was gonna try to get all poetic, but I'm really in a terrible mood so read this website and feel the anger coursing through you:



And I'm off.

Soulmate knew

Dude. How could I forget? Carrie, Aidan, time to miss you...

Wow. And it all comes full circle. But who's who? I thought I was being Carrie, but now it turns out I need to be Aidan. This is hard. I hate playing games I don't know the rules to.

dudes, i'm pissed off

I am. I don't even know what to do with it. She's playing all these fucking games or maybe this is just the way she is, but fuck man. She said that she needed last night off so that she could have time to miss me. Which I've heard before in movies or pop culture somewhere and I mean, it makes sense and I wasn't mad about it, but clearly she hasn't missed me enough yet. There was no excitement about me being there. Like, fucking none. And then she regifted me a bunch of bullshit for hanukkah. No. Not from her. Come on. I wrote out a poem for her that I know she really likes. Come on man. A fucking bath set. Really? I mean, it got better because she reminded me that she doesn't have a bath, but then give it to me NOT as a fucking hanukkah present. Y'know? Shit. Just because I joke about the family giving all sorts of shitty things (did I already comment on here about how the highlight was White Diamonds perfume by Elizabeth Taylor? Do I look like a 70 year old grandmother? Because last time I checked I'm a 23-year old dyke) doesn't mean I want her to give me shit. I know I laugh it off with the family, but it took years to get there. Years. And I don't expect that shit from the people who, I don't know, actually know me. I mean, if there was a reason behind it or something, but there wasn't. And then she wouldn't even tell me where she got it from. Does that mean an ex gave it to her? A current? What?

Fuck. I'm just pissed off.

Listen, I'm taking this on whole-heartedly as my fault, but some of it has to be her. It has to be. I don't want to acknowledge that perhaps I'm just impossible.

Here's the thing: I like to be touched. I do. And I'm not talking sexually, because after the whats-the-deal-with-the-other-woman talk got all resolved and we had like 2 hours of excellent sex, she then ruined it again by saying that she wants to be able to sleep with other people. I had never felt so cheap. I mean, she really ruined it. And it shocks me to have my fingers type out those words or to think and feel them because, really?, "I feel cheap." Like, who does that happen to?

I guess me. Because I thought we'd figured out it was just us and that made me feel good and made me want to have sex with her and then with my coat and hat on as I walked out the door she said she needs me to be able to consider the possibility that she can sleep with other people.

Fuck. Is this going to work? Do I need to call it off? I don't want to. I know the best friend says I should, but she said I should call it off with the ex when we were barely a year in. Maybe she was right.

And then my "but"'s come in about "but she's fun" "but it's so nice to be held" "but I don't want to be lonely again" "but all my friends are out of town" "but she makes me feel pretty" "but I really like her" "but she makes me feel connected with the world and not embarassed about saying it" ...

(And don't judge me for the "but all my friends are out of town" because none of us are perfect and in this life a lot of us just take what we can get.)

Fuck. I'm judging myself plenty harshly.

The point is that now, today, in this new pissed off mood, there's a rebuttal "but" to the aforementioned "but I like her" buts.

I didn't have fun with her last night. She wouldn't hold me last night. In fact, I got pushed away in the middle of the night. (And I can feel all of you screaming at me to not take it so seriously and I know it's because her bed sucks and she was uncomfortable and maybe I'm hot and most people maybe don't want to sleep spooning, and that's why I had the "it's all my fault" comment up above because I don't give a fuck what all of you say, I want to be held and I want to hold her and it does hurt me that she doesn't want to back.) I did feel lonely last night. All my friends are out of town, but Katie and Beth got back last night and I didn't go over to their house, and Stefania called needing me and I didn't answer (let's not even begin to get into the guilt I'm feeling for that). I didn't feel pretty last night. I felt like a nuisance.

No. She doesn't miss me enough yet. So I'll take a break and she can fucking come find me. Fuck this shit.

Fuck this shit.

I shouldn't be made to feel like hanging out with me is such a huge, fucking burden. What? I'm a burden? I'm annoying? It's a chore to have to kiss me? I didn't realize I was still together with the ex. I thought I'd gotten into a new relationship. I guess not. Great.

Work Ethic

When I tuck my shirt in,
I don't do it the way my mom taught me:
to properly fold a blouse,
but just remember from watching my dad every morning.
I don't learn from a traditional lesson,
but follow the example of what was considered strong
because who the fuck in this world is to say I can't have the power?

I have the power in my un make-uped face
and the ride of my professional pants
low on my hips.
I've said it before and I'll say it again,
I can't change the system unless I'm in the system,
but getting into your white straight man system
and buying into it
are two very distinct and different things.

It may not be that my anger is messy and screaming,
it may be that my outrage plays out
in how I do
all the work you ask of me just the way you ask me to,
but I finish it early and quickly
so that the majority of
my time you pay me for
is actually spent
teaching the women around me
and learning from them.
I keep this job and pay my bills and have you like me
by doing what fits in the rules
and completing the tasks you wrote up on that job description,
but I do my job in the world,
for myself and for my sisters,
by being strong and being subversive
and working equally with everyone around me.
I don't just talk
about feminism and social justice,
I perform it.
I didn't teach you that our injustices are equal
by giving you a sociological lecture pontificating the evidence against the possibility of hierarchical systems of oppression,
but I showed you by listening to your stories
and then telling my own.
I'm sorry her mom said
you were perfect except for being brown,
but just yesterday I heard that her parents love me
except I'm a woman.

I do this bureaucratic paperwork to make the world we live in spin around,
but once I make the copies and file them away,
I work on unspinning this backwards world,
and when I take my bathroom break,
I don't powder my nose,
I don't size up the woman in the mirror next to me,
and when I tuck in my shirt,
I do it the way my dad never taught me to--
because I am the embodiment of power--
you just can't see it yet.

it's break.

no one's working. no one's even here. so check this out:

http://home.uchicago.edu/~yli5/Flash/Fire.html

it takes less than 5 minutes and was cool to watch. you need flash 8 though, so don't bother if that sounds too hard.(although, i thought it sounded scary, but it was really easy for me--i am on my work computer.)

peace.

To be and be free

And then the phone rang, and an immediate smile spread across my face because it must be her, oh she, and she was calling me and it was so much earlier than I expected and I didn’t have to worry and write page after page in changing fonts, I simply could wait and she would call and maybe smile as she talked to me so that I could hear it and smile right back to her through these silly little cell phones. And it shocks me even now because the phone rang and it wasn’t her, but the hope of her was enough to remind me that all these silly little fears are no more than that, they are silly little fears and I can have trust that she will call me and even if she doesn’t call me in the break it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t like me because we can’t just stop these feelings over night because they are real. She is unlike anyone I’ve ever met and I like her so much for that. I like her for reminding me that way back when I was still growing up I did fall in love with the trees and wish upon the night stars as I breathed in cold air because I could tell that all in this world was somehow connected and true. She can remind me of what I used to take faith in and that it just feels good to touch a tree because nothing in the man-made world and office I walk through and work in everyday can feel like tree bark and the life that it contains. Water from the faucet will never have the same quality as the puddle I just got mad at walking through because I’m stuck in these synthetic shoes and have “grown-up” responsibilities to take care of where puddle water has become unacceptable and I guess that means the rest of the real world, the rest of my nature has also been something unwanted in these technological times, but she’s not stuck in my “civilized” world, she’s found a way to stay grounded and to help me pull back down to the ground with her. I still have what I’ve learned and there’s a pragmatic side to this healing heart that knows I can’t change the system unless I’m in the system so I still won’t jump in the puddle and let my calves feel cold, wet droplets running down them, but I can and will change the way I look at that puddle and try to remember why I’m even working to change the system and it’s because there’s a love in this world that too many of us have forgotten about and if we could all just allow one another to be and be free then the love would watch over all of us and we could all be happy and there wouldn’t be so much hurt in the world, and so much fear, there would be this love I speak of, and there would be trees and bushes and leaves and fresh night air and that would be what matters, and she will always matter to me because this is what she’s taught me is such a short amount of time and it’s a lesson I won’t soon forget, nor a woman I’ll soon let get away even if my worldly fears of her disliking me somehow prove true, because she is too important to me to let her go, even if I need to take it slow.

no more drama

silence comes. silence in the size of words that i still have to fit into this page to make these emotions flow out of me so i can continue with what i need to do. silence because i hate thinking about it even more than you hate hearing about it. i don't know why there is so much drama. i just want the silence. in the past two days, i've had the silence of smiling as i think about her; telling our story to old and loved friends with a bragging grin on my face. and i'm not saying that that bit has gone away, just that there is drama that goes along with it. i don't to have to deal with it. i just want it to go away. i don't want to explain it all here. i don't want to go upstairs to get coffee and have the normal "how was your night last night" coffee talk. i want silence surrounding me in a muffled bubble so i can try to figure out these emotions. why did i react so strongly? can this time in my life finally be the time when i react on my own and understand and decide if what i'm feeling is correct and true and what i want to show? i don't want the advice of other people because their advice only works in their context. this is my context.

she gave me a key. at a bar with all of her friends around so that i couldn't react or talk about it or give it back or be upset or freak out or tell her how i was feeling or anything. all i could do was sit silently, trying not to make it awkward at the end of the bar, only saying back "you're sneaky."

she's had sex with a married woman who is still one of her closest friends. it causes drama with the husband who is also in the group of friends. the husband stormed out, the wife followed, another friend followed, the out of town friend which was the whole reason for this shindig who was in town for one night only followed after that. it was left with the two of us and i started to make her feel better. she is where my loyalty lies. it takes two to tango and she was 21 when it happened. she didn't know about relationships and marriage. maybe she still doesn't. but i tried to make it better. i said that it was over two years ago. she just looked at me like, "no, you don't know the whole story." i said it was over a year ago. same look. i smiled and appeased her with, "well, it's over anyway." same look.

same look?!?! what, it's not over? so i still focused on making it better for her, but fuck dude, what the fuck does that mean? it's not over? i reacted by taking a sip of my beer. i remember when i was a kid i read the "cat who..." series by lilian jackson braun and about in the middle of the books, the protagonist/narrator quit smoking. he would always talk about how much he missed the pleasant pauses while he lit his pipe. he was able to take time and give his conversation partner time gracefully. that what the sip of beer was. my best effort at a graceful pause.

the other friend came back and said something then the out of town friend came back and said it was time to go back to jessa's house. i took off to settle my tab y ya esta.

i was no longer doing well. they drove me back to the house (even though the driver probably shouldn't have) i'm dog-sitting at so i could get my car so i could come home from jessa's whenever i needed to get to sleep so i could be at work this morning, and so i could let the dog inside.

i didn't want to go and i called to say i wasn't going, but there was a part of me that needed to see jessa again and hope that she could make it better and that it was a misunderstanding, so i drove over there (i probably shouldn't have). only jessa and the out of town friend were there at that point, so jessa and i went into her room and she wanted to explain. i had said something on the phone about her not saying it was over with the married friend. we brought it up again on the bed and i didn't even ask for a promise or anything like that, but she couldn't even flat out say that it wasn't going to happen with that woman again. she said it wasn't her intention and realized right away what a load of shit that was because that's what lauren said to her about nicole. so she said that she'd heard that before and tried somehow to take it back.

all i got from that talk was that i couldn't keep the key still in the bottom of my coat pocket. i couldn't. not then. if she can't tell me she's not going to sleep with other women, she can't give me her key as well. she kept insinuating that the talk about the friend needed to happen at another time. which i understand. the out of town friend is in from san francisco, the married couple is in from kansas city, they're on their way over and this is supposed to be a party. but she's the one who gave me the key.

i left the key on her kitchen counter but when she walked me out i told her about it. i didn't want to just have her find it. i'm not like that. but that way she couldn't make me take it back.

if she wants to make it non-commital with the option of sleeping with this other woman--a bad idea anyway--then she can't say she loves me and give me a key. i mean, she said that if the friend was in front of her naked she wouldn't fuck her. but what does that mean? why couldn't she say it's over? even if it's not, which, of course i want her to be honest, but if it's truly not her intention, then why can't she say it's over? why does it need to be a talk?

she seemed to start the talk and explain that i only just came into her life and it can't stop for me, which is cool. that is totally fine. but then don't say "i love you" and give me a key if her life is having sex with her friends. and i know in the past it was. she's talked about it. and that's cool, but it may not be love and key-exchanging with me. don't we need to see if the lives we can't (and shouldn't) stop for one another will fit together well before we try to bring in love or complete openness and comfort with one another? i think so.

in other, fun news, i kissed the jello shot boy last night. jessa did it first. so i did it second. he tried to slip in a little tongue, but that didn't work so much with me.

curses to the 25th of december

I really thought that the absolutely most annoying Christmas bull I had to put up with was the incessant and terrible Christmas music. I pretty much hate it all. Wait, let me check, yep, I hate it all. But no, it gets worse. Why do people feel the need to forward on a painfully large number of painfully worse email forwards? Are email forwards ever good? Maybe like, 1 in 20? And now, not only has the frequency increased exponentially, but the terrible quality as well. Not only that, but almost all of them automatically play the aforementioned Christmas music. Misogynist, sexist, racist, offensive jokes are never funny. Nope, not even when you try to make them about wrapping paper. In fact, they're worse when they're about wrapping paper.

You know what? I think all of Christianity is based on Mary being a good liar that she didn't sleep around. My family makes me feel like shit. Besides that, they send me gifts like White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor. (Yes, I actually received that today when I said a big Fuck You to tradition and opened my Christmas packages on the day I received them. Believe me, I'll need the time to try to come up with the Thank-You-I-Love-It lies.) I've done a great job of not being negative this year and seeing the positive for other people, but I think it's all a crock of shit and if I get one more fucking forward wishing me a Merry Christmas and telling me to remember what Christmas is "really about" and reminding me that women and minorities are stupid, I'm going to explode.

Happy Winter Solstice tomorrow. Go outside, breathe in the cold air, and look for the Winter Solstice Fairy. She'll be sparkly and in striped socks.

But.

So, if it’s okay with everyone here (and it is because this is my space to put out what I want when I want), I need to be a selfish asshole for a little bit.

You’ve all read the “I’m 23 so it’s fine” justification, and I still stand by that to justify my actions, but you know what, Jessa drinks a lot. She’s a pothead and I don’t really mind because that’s who she is and maybe in a week or two I’ll take that back too, but I think Jessa drinks too much. I haven’t known her for that long and she’s in the environment so I’ll have to see how she takes it when I confront her and when I ask her to do things that don’t involve drinking and just get the information so that I can then deal with it, but…

I need to get the information to know if the large amount she drinks is actually too much and if it’s a dependency and if I’ve started dating an alcoholic (fuck). I need to get that information. But I’m here to talk about what to do and ask the “what ifs” and start to deal with this in case it happens. Maybe it’s not a good idea to jump to conclusions, but I think it’ll help me out.

Here comes the selfish asshole part: I do not want to date an alcoholic. I like Jessa. I really like Jessa. I have a great time hanging out with her. Great. I think she’s awesome. I am absolutely mesmerized by her when she plays and sings, or when she says certain things, or when she totally gets what I’m trying to say. Parts of me that I’ve put away are coming back out and I like it. There are moments when I look at her and think "I am falling in love with you right now." It happened last night, in the kitchen at a party, with so many people around, and I thought it so simply and honestly that I had to catch myself from saying it out loud to her.

But I don’t want to date an alcoholic. I know right now it’s fun and if she is one then so are probably all of her friends so it’s completely normalized and everyone gets drunk every night and there’s no fighting and they all get to work no problem and go about their days and just have fun, but it may be alcoholism. I know we’re in our early 20s and society says it’s okay and I even say it’s okay, but fuck that.

I was the care taker. I don’t want to be anymore. I don’t want to. I don’t want to deal with her getting drunk all the time. I don’t want to deal with wondering if she’s going to remember what happened in the morning. I mean, she’s only been stumbling drunk once, and then got pretty close again last night, but come on man. Come on.

I feel like a big shithead just thinking about stopping this thing because it’s so great and I like her so much and I’d be running away for purely selfish reasons, but I don’t want to have to deal with an alcoholic. Seriously. And I know that there are alcoholics who function in society and do alright and go to work just fine then go home and need four drinks before bed, but dude, I don’t want to date an alcoholic.

I don’t even know if she is, but it’s not looking good. I don’t know what to do with this. And it’s not as easy as just running away. I know the red flags, I know to pay attention to them, but come on. She makes me feel good. She likes me. (She says she loves me, but that’s a post I’m not ready to deal with.) I have fun with her. I care about her. I want her to be happy and to be there for her and to be her girlfriend and to be a good girlfriend.

But.

I wish my head didn’t immediately go to the “but.” It does though. It does. Because it’s a huge “but.”

Alright. I just needed to get that out. I’m gonna go to lunch now.

Lucky

I only got three hours of sleep last night. It would have only been two, but I showed up an hour late (I warned the bosses that I might).

Here's the thing: it's okay. It's great. I only got three hours and it's fabulous and wonderful.

I was not up crying. I was not up doing unhealthy coping strategies. I was not up drunk and sad. I was not up from the nightmares. I was not up because I couldn't sleep.

I was up because I had a friend to pick up at the airport two hours away. I was up because I had a friend who could count on me to pick her girlfriend up at the airport two hours away. I was up because I had a great car ride with a great friend, listening to music and talking. I was up because I went over to Jessa's house when I got in even though it was 3:15am when we finally arrived in Columbia. I was up because I was making love to an amazing woman who thinks I'm amazing back. I was up because we held each other afterwards, out of breath and sweaty, kissing. I was up because we fell asleep in each others arms, naked, after giving and receiving the compliments I'm too scared to hear or say at any other time.

After so many sleepless or nearly sleepless nights because of so much pain and an inability to sleep, it's now wonderful to be tired because my life is full. It's not empty. God. I'm tired because I'm busy doing things that make me happy, not because I'm sad that I don't have anything to do. (And it was never just that I didn't have anything to do, but that was a symptom of the problems.)

I'm extremely lucky. Even through the delirium, I'm working really hard on not taking that for granted.

i hate it

Dudes, I had another nightmare last night.

I find that I come here when I want to be able to write (talk) about stuff that I don't want a reaction to. I want to express it and put it out there, but I don't want anything back.

(Let me make it clear that I absolutely LOVE emails about my posts whenever you want to send them or references or anything like that, I just hate it when I say things to people simply because I want (or need) to get it out and there's not an appropriate response. Here, no one has to respond. No one even has to read. But I like the idea that it's out there for some of my friends to know, but they don't have to find a way to make it better. And I don't either. Because if I say something like 'I had another one of my nightmares last night' the friend I'm telling feels they need to ask what it was about and explain it away somehow. But there's some things in life that can't get explained away. And I feel bad when I don't give the friend a way to make it better so I work my ass off to make it okay myself, or at least to make it okay that the friend doesn't know what to say and then what's the point of even telling the story because all I'm doing is forcing myself to make it all better and it's hard.)

Woh. So I really like having this outlet because I get to share only what I want to share and I don't force reactions or see faces of concern or any of that.

So I had another one of my nightmares last night and I hate them. Can I just say? I hate them. I wake up feeling so amazingly shitty and not wanting to tell anyone about what happened and wishing I could just forget the whole fucking thing but it won't go away and my muscles are all tense and sore and I'm tired and every time I realize how tired I am I have to remember why I'm tired and I HATE IT!

I don't know why they can't stop. It's not like I'm thinking about the shit before bed. I'm not. So why do they continue to happen? And why am I so helpless in them? And they're not even always about fear. They're not. So much of the time I'm angry and physically angry and physically caught and just can't fight hard enough to get away and I hate it. Last night all the normal shit happened except I was up on a stage and Mom and Dad were there and Jessa was there and there was an audience there and I just don't want to anymore. I'm so fucking tired to pretending that everything's fine all the time, why did I even have to pretend in my dream? I didn't want the audience to know. There's too many expectations on me and I have to make it all okay, meanwhile I physically fighting and more angry than I have ever been in my waking life, but feeling it just the same.

It just sucks all around. And there's no way to stop it because it's a subconscious manifestation of some of my internal fears, struggles, problems, history, on and on...

Holy shit. It's almost 8pm. I have to go home and eat some dinner and get some sleep. Some shit happened this week in The Relationship, but I don't really want to talk about here. But it kept me up really late and I was exhausted and then emotionally exhausted myself all of the next day trying to deal with what had happened and then last night, even though I was able to get to bed at a decent hour, I had nightmares so I didn't sleep well and I'm just in a shitty, tired mood.

Okay, for real, I'm going home. I just needed to vent really quickly. I have to get it out, but I hate telling people about it because they feel they need to make it better and it just can't be. I just want to be pissy and vent. (And not that I'm judging my friends or something for trying to make it better. I mean, fuck, I probably do that even more than any of them, I just...y'know. They do let me vent, I just hate these fucking nightmares and trying to deal with them and admitting that I have them and all that bullshit.)

(Throwback:)
Peace out.

Living the 23 year-old life

I really find that having this blog totally helps me to feel in control and sane. I really like having an outlet that I know trusted friends can come and read if they so desire, but not everyone knows about it. I'm not saying I'm keeping it a secret or something, but I really like how I can write anything I want here and people like the ex and Jessa have no idea. And honestly, a lot about Jessa. I really like that I can talk about her without her knowing and kinda get into it. It makes it easier for me to remember that she's only one part of my life and I am still my own person. I know that probably sounds pretty simple, but for me, that's not always simple.

I don't know. Being together with her has been very...well, everything. No, not everything. But almost everything positive. Luckily there hasn't been much negative yet. There's been some fear and anxiety, and get this, even jealousy, but mostly just positive. I really like all these new emotions and situations and experiences. I feel, just, good. I like the way my life is going.

I'm constantly around new people and making new friends and that's a very interesting process to me. Sometimes I surprise myself with how I act or the things I do and don't say or do. I feel very comfortable on my own, but also pretty comfortable around others. Living in Spain really taught me to be comfortable with the silences and lack of small talk because it's just not possible all of time. When I've exhausted all of my vocabulary and the native speaker I'm talking to gets tired of repeating herself just to have me stare back still confused, there's silence. And it's okay. I don't mind sitting on my own and only interjecting comments when I actually have something to say. It's a nice feeling.

I also get confused though. Because I wonder how much of what I'm doing is me and how much is just following everyone else. And if it is just following everyone else, is that so bad? Is that what new friendships are, or is that being fake? I try to ask myself if I'm doing things I wouldn't normally do on my own and the answer is an overwhelming yes. I wouldn't be ******* if I wasn't doing it with Jessa. I wouldn't be going to Shakespeares and drinking so much whiskey if I wasn't with Jessa. I wouldn't be buying so much beer or spending so much money on going out. But, and this is a big but, I'm having fun. And I feel perfectly comfortable saying no at anytime. I kinda suck at getting to bed on time, but I'm really having a lot of fun. And, if Jessa and I were to end for some reason, I would still want to be doing these things, I've just never had the friends or money to be able to go out all the time and try different, fancy beers and new restaurants and all this stuff. I really like it.

I guess it's just interesting because I'm doing all these new things and I like it and it should be okay, but I'm super-conscious of not wanting to change for another person. But I like going out. I like drinking whisky. I like ******. I think I wasn't doing all this before because the ex never wanted to. I did want to. Not all the time, I don't want to be drunk or ***** all the time or anything, but...I don't know. I know the whole ****** thing throws people off and I'm not sure I would be free of judgment if one of my friends all of a sudden started talking about *****, but whatev.

I don't know where I'm trying to go with all of this. I guess I'm just happy with these experiences. When I was with the ex, I was pretty constantly scared that she was going to leave me, but never that she would leave for someone else. Only that she'd get sick of me or get tired of the gay thing. (Wow, I should pay more attention to my fears, huh? huh.) With Jessa, I do have those fears about other women. I did get jealous the other night when she was in the bathroom with a woman she'd been dating until I came along. And I didn't want that woman to be sitting at our table, which she was. She left pretty soon after I showed up, but still.

I feel like this is really healthy and good that I'm having these jealous and possessive feelings. It keeps things interesting and exciting. It keeps me working hard to get to have Jessa and I think that's good.

Also, the sex. Holy shit. The sex. I feel like it's cliche or mean or wrong in some way to want to talk about it so much and describe it and try to understand all the emotions connected to it, but I can't not. It just hits me. Like, I'll be working and then all of a sudden a wave will crash through my body as I have flashes of the night or nights before. We don't have sex every night, but we do have it a lot, and dude. Last night. I can't. Oh my god. Last night.

And can I just say that I am inexperienced. I mean, I know it's all relative because there are plenty of 23 year-old virgins and there are plenty of 23 year-old studs, but I've only had 2 sexual partners. One was Dave when I was 18, and come on. That was missionary, try it twice, stop him before he finished, losing my virginity sex. I didn't like it either time, it just hurt. Then there's the ex. (I mean, I had some bases covered with my first girlfriend (and some random makeouts), but we never went so far as having sex--and please don't do the annoying "well, what is sex if it's two girls?" thing. It's sex and it's offensive that people think it can't happen. There are many different wonderful ways, just like for all the rest of you out there.) Okay. Then there's the ex. It was wonderful with her. It was beautiful and exciting and new and wonderful. I loved it.

That being said: she never wanted to do it. I hardly ever got any from her even though I gave freely of myself to her pretty much any time she would allow it. We were young and inexperienced and it was great.

But.

Now I have Jessa. Holy shit. Jessa is not inexperienced, and when I'm around her, I seem to not be inexperienced either. I just... I mean, I don't watch porn, I don't talk to people about sex tips, I've never really been taught by anyone, but I get the job done. We've all heard stories and live in a society where sex is talked about so I know this stuff isn't unheard of, but damn. I mean, I'm talking about crazy things that just happen and I didn't have them planned or know that I was going to do them, but if I'm in the heat of the moment and it seems like I should flip her upside down and hook her legs over my shoulders, then apparently I know how to do that. WHAT?! It's just amazing the things that happen and what it feels like and the absolute intimacy and connection and openness and all of it. God. I guess I can maybe understand how people can have sex with people they don't know or care about (of course I can, I had sex with Jessa the first night and I didn't really know or care about her then), but I don't know how it can be good. It's all about the passion and the connection and being in tune with each other's bodies and ... Damn. Really, I feel guilty for some reason for writing about this, but I just can't keep all this inside. I need to put it down or something. I've never thought about sex this much in my life. It's really distracting!

Whatev. Listen, I have to go now. I could keep writing but clearly I've already wasted plenty of time. Oh no. One more thing. Back to the whole she's-really-experienced thing, how can I get a better compliment than her telling me it's never been like that before? I don't know. I read this thing this moron wrote the other day and it said that sex for most college students (granted, I'm a grad now) is just a means to an end. I think that means that she thinks we're all just doing it to get to the orgasm at the end. But that's wrong. It is all about the process. It's not a job, it's an experience. The entire act is awesome, not just the climax at the end. It's all great.

Really, I could go on and on. How annoying. It's just another new experience for me. At least I can laugh at myself: what's happening in my life these days? Alcohol, *******, and sex. Wow, early 20s. Wow.

Truly a Soccer Player at Heart

Dude. I know you all know that. But I do. I love soccer. I just, really do.

I feel most comfortable when I have a soccer ball at my feet.
I may not be the person I was 6 years ago,
But I'm still me.
I will not stop at 97
When I want 100.

Wait, let me check the weather. Yep, it's 36-feels-like-26 according to weather.com and baby, it's cold outside.

But it's also sunny. It's beautiful. I just went to the park right next to my house and played for like, I don't know, a little under an hour. There was still plenty of snow on the ground and it got a little windy, but it was great. I don't know. I just need that sometimes, y'know. I need that time outside, breathing in cold air, feeling my muscles push off the ground and my body try to re-balance itself to juggle and dance over the ball. It feels good to be physical.

There really is something to being out in the sun, feeling the wind against my cheeks. No sickness can make my nose run like when I'm playing soccer outside in the winter. I know that may sound a little gross, but it's true. And I didn't remember that until today. It wasn't something I was looking forward to, it was just something I remembered once I was out there, somethign I recognized and enjoyed because it's familiar and feels like home.

I know I've pulled this metaphor a thousand times before, but for me, soccer was always a level playing field. Literally. All the other shit that was going on in my life didn't matter once I stepped out onto the soccer field. I don't think anyone can understand what a huge part soccer played in my life. And not in the fanatic sports fan way, but in the it-helped-me-emotionally-and-mentally-and-spiritually-and-deep-down-into-my-core way. It didn't matter what clothes were hanging in my closet that I hated and were too big but dealt with since we didn't have any money but had to pretend to. It didn't matter that I'd never had a boyfriend. It didn't matter that I didn't have a car because the car my brother and I were supposed to share he crashed 3 days after he got his license (and therefore two years before I got behind the wheel) and I got blamed for it. It didn't matter that my mom wouldn't let me go to parties. It didn't matter who my brother was. It didn't matter that I'd never done drugs or had sex. It didn't matter that I didn't have friends, when that was the case. It didn't matter how smart I was or wasn't. All that mattered was if I could play soccer. And I even had control over that. If I tried harder, I did better. If I practiced more, I got better. If I trained hard enough, I'd be stronger and faster. If I watched others play, I'd learn and be smarter. In a life that so often felt out of control, soccer taught me that I could have control. Soccer taught me that even if those girls on my team make fun of me in the hallway or won't talk to me in Biology class, they have to pass to me on the field and I'm included.

And I had to be healthy for soccer. That little eating disorder that could have happened (please pay attention and read the "could have," it didn't alright), didn't because of soccer. I had to eat because I had practice that afternoon, or a game tomorrow, or a tournament that weekend. Dude, I found some fucked up writing from my past the other night that kept repeating how much I didn't deserve to eat (no one ever said I liked high school or I had a good time there), but I had to eat because I had to be the best out on that field. People clapped for me and yelled my name. I was known. I wasn't invisible anymore. My dad paid attention to me and worked with me and talked to me about it.

Y'know, I came here and I had all these different ideas about what I was going to write about, but I think I'm happy now. I went out and I played soccer today. All by myself, out on a deserted and snow-covered field, and I had fun. It was good and I got my 100 juggles before I came inside (104, actually) and I felt my heart pumping the blood through my body and I once again feel in control of my life. Not because I necessarily felt like it was out of control, or because I'm out on the field now, clearly I'm not, but because I know that no matter what life throws my way, I'll always be able to find something I can count on and work with. Through it all, there's always been soccer.

Even winter can't stop this love.

Five fun facts

Number one: The N'Sync reference was that she should have just sung "Won't you be my girlfriend."

Number two: I look hot today. Jessa really helps me in being able to believe and like, really know that.

Number three: I totally didn't tell the ex. Adam talked some sense into me and why was I going to do that? For the reasons I wrote about, I mean, I will feel bad if she finds out from someone else a couple months down the road, but mainly, I think out of habit. I wanted to tell her because whenever something big happens I have to check in with her.

Well, you know what, no I don't. She doesn't get that anymore. She doesn't get me. I don't need to tell her what's going on in my life. That's not her role anymore. I'm not ready to be her friend, so I'm not going to call her up to get her reaction. I don't want it.

Number four: I'm about to head to therapy and there's some tough stuff on the docket, so be prepared for a depressed and weird post if I come back and write about it.

Finally, five: It's fucking freezing here. Brrrrrrrrrr.

she shoulda sung me n'sync, then there'd be no question

I took my time getting over to see her yesterday—sometimes I just need time in my apartment and to know that I’m the one in control of my own time—by baking for Flop Down Day today at the Women’s Center and finally getting some catch up time with Autumn.

So I got over there and HOLY SHIT she is amazing. Get this. She found an apartment on Saturday, packed and went to work on Sunday, moved, unpacked, and decorated yesterday. Done.

Can you fucking believe that?! My apartment isn’t as put together as hers is and I’ve had three months.

But when I got there around 8, she was still finishing up with the unpacking and decorating (I still don’t understand—3 fucking days for the ENTIRE process!). One of her neighbors came to her door and introduced himself so Jessa introduced herself (“Allow myself to introduce…myself”). The guy then looked in at me so I smiled and said, “oh, I’m just the friend.” That’s what I’ve been saying because I went and looked at apartments with her on Saturday and helped her find this one and so we were meeting all these people.

Maybe 15 or 20 minutes later she was working on something sitting at the table and I was standing next to the table. Extremely casually she just kept talking and focusing on what she was working on before turning up and making eye contact with me and she said, “I’m tired of introducing you as my friend, and I’m tired of you introducing yourself as my friend.”

(I wish my blog had a soundtrack because this is the part where I play the song “ohhhhh, freak out!” du du du du duuu du du du du duuuu!)

I pretty much just stared at her. For a while. Then I bent over and kissed her. Then she started to just look down at her work and playing with that and I still wasn’t saying anything I was just silent and every once in a while kissing the top of her head.

So then it was really weird and she started just joking around and trying to talk to cover up the awkwardness of me not replying, but sometimes I just need time to process what’s been said to me, y’know. I just needed some time. But she started to talk about random stuff and then she asked if I wanted to play tic tac toe because she had unpacked this dreidel/menorah tic tac toe board, so I sat down and just started playing with her. I still didn’t know how to respond. I was trying to come up with what I wanted to say, but I really didn’t know because the word “girlfriend” really freaks me out a little bit. Like, I mean, I know that we’re totally already acting like girlfriends and when I talked to Ashley she pointed out that if nothing changes then why does it matter what you call it.

So I thought about those things and that's all correct; we’d finished an entire game of tic tac toe where we both played and pretended nothing out of the ordinary was happening and then she got up after she beat me (only because she got to go first) and started doing stuff across the room. I continued to play with the little dreidel and menorah pieces but then I blurted out, “would anything change?” Keep in mind that she was probably freaking out inside too, but I didn’t know how to deal with that so she dealt with it by talking and talking and talking and I guess pretending that nothing had happened because I clearly didn’t give the response she was looking for. Dude, talk about mixed messages, I’m spending absolutely all my time with her, we’re starting to be really nice to each other with all the stuff we say (yeah, at first we kinda had a rule not to say anything too nice to each other because we’d both freak out), and yet, after over two weeks of spending every night with her, being nice to her, telling her I like her, having amazing sex with her, I am utterly silent when she asks me to be her girlfriend. Oops.

So I asked “would anything change?” but she was still in talking mode and ignored it. (It was around this part that I started to feel like a big asshole because if she wasn’t my girlfriend, then what the hell was I doing to her?) The next time she paused, I asked again, “would anything change?” She didn’t know I was still stuck on the whole girlfriend thing, I think she had moved past it and thought that silence was my answer, but really I just needed time to respond. I asked more clearly if anything would change if we were girlfriends. And she said no, but asked if there was anything I did or didn’t want to change. Then I felt even worse like I was using her or something, which I’m really not. (“A real man would not shoplift the pooty from a single mother.”) So I said that I really liked everything we were doing and didn’t want anything to change and she said that she didn’t either and well, now I have a girlfriend.

Weird. Still a little freaked out when I say it. I have a girlfriend.

But you know what else, also extremely excited. We kept having talks throughout the night about all sorts of stuff and just opening up a bit more and it was really good. I kinda explained to her why I was so scared to be called girlfriend and did my thing where I tell a past story to explain a present event so I told her about talking to Ashley about whether or not the vocabulary even matters if the actions don’t change. I also told her that I was slow to say anything because I am scared of what being in a relationship means and my last one, y’know, was kinda shitty for a while and it was such hard work and I just worked and worked and worked at it and it was worth it at the time because I thought things would change and that there would be a payoff and that it would be my turn to be happy at any moment, but it never happened. Not that I was totally miserable, I wasn’t, it was just a lot of hard work. So I told Jessa that I don’t want it to be work. And I don’t. I’m not here to work, I’m here to feel good and cared for and happy and have fun. And I think she’s here for the same stuff.

So, yeah. I have a girlfriend. Do I need to tell the ex? I know that the answer is “No, you don’t have to tell the ex,” but I feel bad. Would I want her to tell me? I guess I’ll have to figure that out. The ex called not too long ago and we talked a bit, but I didn’t tell her much. I don’t know. I think I’ll feel better if I just tell her. I don’t want to lie anymore. I know it will hurt her, but wouldn’t it hurt her more to find out later that we’ve been together this whole time? And, if there’s anything the ex has taught me, it’s that secret relationships totally suck and are awful. So I think I might tell her.

And don’t worry, after I got used to the idea, I did get really excited about it and I told her so and she felt good and I hope that I convinced her that it wasn’t just about me giving in to her wanting me to be her girlfriend, but that I want to be her girlfriend too. It’s scary, but I do. And hey, I learned from that book she showed me last night, “Love is letting go of fear.”

NOT THAT WE’RE IN LOVE! Woh. Reel it in. I can have her be my girlfriend, but, as shitty as this may be, my hurt heart isn’t in a place that it knows how to love someone right now, it needs a lot of time, and it’s definitely not ready to hear that anyone loves me. I might have to run in the other direction if that were to happen.

But it does feel good to trust her and to let myself have that bit of security.

She really does amaze me.

Stop. Sorry, I can’t write that stuff. That’s opening myself up to be hurt. I should just be happy I can feel it inside, I don’t need to write it down. I’m just going to enjoy it. I have trust issues, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job.

Dudes, I have a girlfriend. A kick ass one.

Deal breaker.

I know I already wrote the post, but I need to channel Samantha because this is killing me. FALLING ASLEEP?!!??!!! I don’t think anyone has any idea, nor can she, about how much work it was every single fucking night I tried to talk to the ex and she fell asleep. To not hate her, to not hate myself, to not tell her how much it hurt me, to not (woh, check out this reference of not only yesterday, but the poem too) “become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.” I can’t say how many times it happened. I can’t. It hurt me so much, and so often.

I know Jessa had nothing to do with that, but deal breaker. That’s where Samantha comes in: she can’t handle a bad kisser, I can’t handle someone who falls asleep. It’s not worth it. At all. At all.

Ahhhh. Are you kidding me?

I’m sure the deal isn’t broken, but I just can’t deal with another one who falls asleep when I talk. It’s a deal breaker for me. (It won’t be, but I feel like it should be.)

In 25 minutes Stefania will be here to meet me for lunch. Thank god I have her to tell me to shut up and make it all better.

For the next 25 minutes, deal breaker. I just can’t go through that again.

it has begun

fuck.

jessa fell asleep last night.

are you fucking kidding me.

seriously. for how many years did i train myself to just not talk about how i feel because as soon as i started to, the ex would fall asleep.

i mean, i was just reciting poetry (i fucked up a lot) and it was really late and i wanted to fall asleep too, but come on.

why do people do this? why?

she fucking fell asleep?! really?

she was really cute about it because as soon as i realized she was asleep (i have a ton of practice) i couldn't do it. i couldn't. fuck. so i turned over and curled a little bit away from her. her arm was still around me so she could feel me doing it and she ended up pulling me back close to her and spooning me and she said--in those voices heavy with sleep which i always love, but right now is killing me because it means SHE FELL ASLEEP!!!!!!!--"put me to sleep like that every night." it was cute and nice and i absolutely love that she wants to hear me recite poetry. no one else ever even likes that. they just get annoyed. or don't get it. but she just wanted to hear it. and that's why i have all these poems memorized. in the hopes that someday there will be someone who enjoys hearing them. (and to randomly quote them because that's cool too.)

i just, i hate that i'm going through these arguments again. even if they are true this time that it's nice that she's that comfortable with me and it was meant to be like a lullaby and it just means i have a soothing voice and yada yada, even if it's true, i never ever wanted to be in this place again. ever. i never wanted to have to try to convince myself that i'm important and worth listening to and all that bullshit.

i thought i would never have to deal with this again.

all i can think is that this really is me. it's gotta be. how can this not be about me? i mean, autumn and i joked that the ex was just crazy and fell asleep all the time when i was telling her my deepest, darkest secrets and opening up as much as i could, but this is what happens to me. people fall asleep.

and i know all the arguments that we were both tired and it was so late and i was only reciting her poetry, but come on. how do i know that she will stay awake when it's me. when it's about me. i mean, it's still my voice. newsflash: my poetry reciting/reading voice is extremely similar to my here's-me-opening-up voice. quiet and slow.

i thought she stayed up late too.

i just don't want to have to deal with this. for over three fucking years i've been dealing with how to make it so the person i'm talking to doesn't fall asleep while i'm talking. regardless of where we are or what we're doing or what time it is.

with the ex i finally just stopped talking.

i can't.

Unusual

Usually, I only come here to post if I know I have something to say. I'll have at least what I want to talk about planned out, and then I'll write about it and it feels good. I'm not saying unexpected things don't happen, because they do and they're often the best part, but I at least have an idea of what I want to write about.

Not right now. Right now I just know that I want to write. I want to have this feeling of my hands tapping away at all the keys, and the strain on my right pinky as I repeatedly reach for the backspace button.

I have emotion within me and there's a familiar fear creeping up of not wanting to let it out or of feeling like I should keep those particular emotions hidden.

I feel like I've been leading a bit of a double life lately. I'm not opening up. I want to be around Jessa and talk to her and learn about her and hang out with her, but I don't particularly want to have her learn about me. I mean, the little stuff, maybe even my quirks, but my deep down, no. I just don't feel capable of doing that right now.

I can't let someone else in. At this point, I'm not sure I ever want to let anyone else in ever again. Jessa's really nice to me and makes me feel good and I really want for that to always be enough. When I told her that I had a nightmare, she hugged me a little tighter and kissed my forehead. That was enough. She went on to ask me what the nightmare was about and I said that it was about the stuff the I have nightmares about. And that's true. I wouldn't give her any more than that. And I don't feel that I should have to. I know "The Invitation" told me I shouldn't let myself become "shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain," but I am closed. How am I supposed to not be?

The Ex knew what the nightmares were about. She knew more about those nightmares than she ever should have and it didn't really make a difference. Really, all she could do was hug me a little tighter and kiss me on the forehead. I almost feel like speaking the fears and past pain just makes it harder for everyone. They want to fix it, I want it to not be real...

Blah blah blah.

So why should I open up? Why, when I don't know that I'll get anything out of it? And even if I did know that it would be so amazing to have that understanding and someone to talk to about it, why would I risk it? She's just going to leave just like the ex left and I can't handle that again.

And also, no one understand. As much as I love Autumn and I love Stefania and the few others who may know of the subject of my nightmares, they can't understand. Because they're dreams. I don't pretend to understand their pain and they don't pretend to understand mine, but we allow each other to hurt. So why must I explain when all I want is acceptance? And I get it.

Well, all you logical ones out there reading this and thinking "duh, you don't have to explain," there's a part of me that feels like I'm cheating or lying by not telling. I'm not being open and honest with her the way she's being open and honest with me.

And shutup all the voices in my head that are screaming at me for being so self-blaming because that's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to write.

Fuck this. I'm done. If I didn't make myself sound utterly crazy already, I better stop now. This is exactly what I mean by not feeling like I can feel what I want to feel. When I do feel it, I hear all my friends voices in my head lovingly saying that I shouldn't feel that way.

Maybe the emotions I feel are the ones that are mean to me and no one wants to hear.

Whatev. I just got a shitty phone call. I'm ending this, not even reading it over, and pushing the publish button. Fuck that.

Some of the Good Stuff

Well, I'm feeling a little guilty for the shite that came out this morning, so here's some of what I'd say is good stuff. I only wrote it a couple of days ago.

And remember, part of my passion for writing is for the process. So here's two beginnings of poems that went unfinished, then the poem that came out, and finally just some writing that was inspired by the finished poem.



its snowing outside. my first
snow in seven seasons
theres soup on the stove
that winter kind of warm.

steam billows in front of frosted glass
basil heavy in the still air around me

------------

I wanted to write a poem
To read to you
About soup on the stove
Because it's a soup kind of day.
It's a you kind of day.

As I composed, however,
The soup boiled, bubbled up
Now the only flame is within me
Sliding down my esophagus
Steaming into my stomach
And there's brown sauce on my space bar.
This one bowl of soup
Feeding my writing forever.

--------------

First Snow

I know in the ideal
I'd be writing a poem right now
But she would also be
In and out of sleep
Lying next to me naked
In softer sheets.

The light would be warmer
I'd have a scarf on.
This wouldn't be first snow,
But a weekend deep in December
With the branches piled high
And reflecting the candle
I forgot to light in this prose reality.

------------

(This next part just plays off of the ideal I wrote about in "First Snow." I just elaborated on the dream.)

-------------

Maybe you'd be reading. Because the keys are too loud for you to sleep with. And I'd be here, in a blanket and a scarf. We'd constantly interrupt each other, then I'd lean over and kiss you. It would be comfortable, in the way I've always wanted it to be comfortable. The sun would fall in check boxes across your dark skin, constantly framing a new part of you. Maybe you would slowly migrate diagonally until your toes brushed my thigh, and I would play with your heel in the pauses, waiting for inspiration. I would have made us coffee and put extra sugar in yours even though you didn't ask for it. We wouldn't have anywhere to go all day, but I'm sure we would crave the outside air, and end up in a snowball fight, panting on the ground, held by the snowy earth. When our cheeks and noses got too cold, we'd come inside and build a fire, then I'd read you what I wrote, as we warmed ourselves and slurped down mini marshmallows.

oh the drama

(Disclaimer added right before I push the "Publish Post" button: for any of you readers who still talk to the ex, she doesn't know about any of this stuff, so I would appreciate it if it's not mentioned to her. Really, she kinda sucks at keeping in touch with anyone so I'm not too worried, but, y'know, please don't call her up to make sure she's okay with the whole me-dating-someone-else thing because she doesn't know about it.)

Listen, I don't have much time to post, but if this is where I'm writing about this, then this is where I need to write about this.

I have three meetings in a row today and I have to finish the end of the month editing, but I don't really want to spew all this drama at any of my meetings today (really only a threat at the first one), and I can't focus until I at least write it out, even if I don't figure it out.

Okay. Where to start. This is just stupid lesbian drama. Because the queer community is way too small. I know I already mentioned this chaos in the last post, but I need to do it again.

And fuck this no name thing. It's too confusing. The only person with a secret identity is the ex so she'll continue to be referred to as "the ex" or with the capital H and S "Her" and "She."

So. J is for Jessa. We like her. Jessa used to be together with my friend Lauren. I'm not that close with Lauren, so I heard a couple things about Jessa from her, but not much. I actually heard more about Jessa from Dan and Stefania from what they heard from Lauren.

The first night with Jessa, Lauren acted weird. I gave Jessa a ride home and Lauren didn't really seem to like the idea. But I asked her up front two different times because we are friends and she said that it's okay. She said it's weird, but okay.

I can buy that. It probably is weird. But Lauren chose to give Jessa up. Lauren ended it, AND she's together with Nicole now.

Okay, I explained all this in the last post, the reason it's getting weird and awkward for me is because I'm supposed to hang out with Lauren tonight. I don't really want to. I just feel like it's going to be awkward and weird. But Dan and Stefania will be there and I don't want it to be weird for them. Plus, I want to hang out with them.

Here's an even more honest reason: Jessa doesn't really want me to. I mean, she didn't say that, but she now hates Lauren. I believe the exact words used were "she's a cunt whore bitch."

And now I'm just in an awkward situation. It's not new or original, it's just awkward. I don't know the solution. The person I'm dating doesn't like one of my friends. Because we're lesbians, it just happens to be that the date and friend used to date each other.

I mean, what do you do? I know I'm supposed to make up my own mind, but if I told Jessa that someone was horrible, or a "cunt whore bitch," I would want her to not hang out with them. I would want her to listen to me and stand up for me and tell the cwb off for having hurt me.

I'm not going to do that for Jessa. a) I don't even know the whole story. b) I feel a little uncomfortable with the fact that I said "person I'm dating" up there so clearly we're still not committed or defined. c) I can't, CAN'T, get back into my habit of only caring about the other person.

Oh my god. I CAN'T! That's it. I'm hanging out with Lauren tonight and hopefully it'll be fun, but I need to make my own judgement call about this. It's like Stefania said last night, Jessa knows I'm Lauren's friend. She didn't come up to me at the club because I was sitting at Lauren's table. And, despite the whole not-really-wanting-me-to, Lauren has been pretty cool about the whole thing. She's not mad at me, she said it was okay even though it was weird...

I don't know. I don't really feel like that's her call, but I can see people freaking out and she hasn't, so that's cool.

I'm done there. Onto the next awkward situation:
Nicole. Nicole is Lauren's new girlfriend. Jessa and Lauren broke up because of Nicole. Nicole and I are friends. We're actually starting to be kinda good friends. Y'know, that type of long, deep email friends that I can't get enough of.

But clearly Jessa isn't a huge fan of Nicole. And, since Nicole and I have that honesty in email form friendship, I know that Nicole doesn't particularly like Jessa. They were placed against each other in fighting for Lauren.

Do you feel as awkward reading this as I do writing it?

But you know what? I like Nicole. We get along. I like what she writes and she seems to like what I write. I'm not sure we'll all hang out, but maybe we will.

I already said I'm picking Nicole up from the airport, right?

Fuck this. I wish I wouldn't have already given Jessa too much power. But I'm me, so I fucking do. I wish I would have just figured out to make up my own mind and didn't play off of what she does, and said "Jessa, Lauren is my friend. If you have issues with that we can talk about it, but you knew getting into this that she was my friend." Then maybe I wouldn't have to hear about her being a cwb or the things they did.

But I want to support Jessa. I want to make her feel special and important so I want to do things for her.

But I need to realize that giving up myself or compromising myself or doing only what she wants and not what I want is not actually a good way of showing her she's important and special. Maybe it shows her that she can take advantage of me. I don't know. But I have to be myself, and then when I do give up something for her, she'll be able to see how important it and I am.

Alright, I don't know how to fix this since I already told Jessa I was uncomfortable hanging out with Lauren, but I guess I'll just be as honest as possible and see how it goes from here.

Sorry this isn't a nicely written or well-developed post, I just needed to get all of this out.

Oh, and just so that there's a reward for getting all the way down here to the bottom, the sex we had last night was amazing. And not in a mind-blowing orgasm way (although we've had that too--overshare?), but in the passion way. In the absolute passion and desire and intimacy and closeness of being with one another and kissing each other and grabbing and holding tightly and everything. It was amazing.