Saturday, January 2, 2010

Mostly done packing.

The killer was the file cabinet, really. Going through and organizing bank statements, insurance issues, finally able to dump all the car maintenance receipts, along with all my notes, doodles, ticket stubs, journals, etc.

The skin on my hands is dry, rough, and begging for moisture.

That sounded dirty. Don't read it as such.

Still thinking of GV8 and yesterday.

I called him today, when I was on my way out for an errand. Just to say hello. Update him on my progress, etc.

Both of us realized quite quickly, I believe, that I was calling him for no reason. Just to chat. I knew, as soon as I heard the ringing over my car's speakers, that I should not have called him.

But it was too late.

We chatted for a few minutes, then both of us bolted from the line.

Can't handle it.

And I have to, I must, give him space. I must give us space. Because the only way to have him in my life is to be friends with him. And the only way to be friends with him is to emotionally unravel where I weaved us together.

Which requires minimum contact.

I've just gotten so used to calling him almost everyday due to all this life... stuff... that I've forgotten that I need to ignore that urge.

I will chase him off if I do not control myself.

Fortunately, self-control in relation to men and sex has always been a strong suit of mine... when I have the proper motivation.

I can't help but think of yesterday. Of how we move together, how perfectly coordinated we are when we aren't holding back, when we aren't watching our every movement.

He has to realize, he has to know, that I can hear him, that I can feel him, when he inhales my scent. That I know exactly what he is doing when he presses his face into my skin.

And I hold back. Every little trick. Every twist, every posturing pose, every swinging movement, upwards glance, I engage in nothing that is game. No phone voice, no accidental brush, no flirting with the waiters, no word games.

I come to him with immense desire... but no action.

He sees it. I know he does. I know he catches it when I start falling into a seduction routine and immediately pull myself out of it because I know that he'll know and it will just shove him away.

He loves me. He wants me. He respects me. My beautiful alpha male. The best man I've ever met. And he's in love with me.

Too bad reality interferes.

So I packed today. Buried myself in boxing up the more active parts of my life and discarding those things that I should have gotten rid of years ago, marathoning, of all things Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's a good show to work by. When I was in my early teens, doing competitive sewing stuff, I spent an entire summer working on creating stock for a craft bazaar, playing recorded episodes of the first season of Buffy off of video tapes.

From where I sit, actually, I can see the piece I did that won Best of Show over a decade ago. Never really cared for it, but everyone else seems to love it. Seems odd to me that such a simple thing would win over all the others. I'm not taking it with me when I move.

Strangely enough, I don't have much to say. Still thinking over the touches shared with GV8, the looks shared. I know we aren't going to be together, at least I know it on a logical level, but I still have to wonder where this is going to go. Spending the next several years of my life mooning over a man I can't have, unchanging desire between us, doesn't seem healthy, doesn't seem right.

But for it to go away seems even worse.

Worse than us giving into ourselves at a weak moment? I don't know.

As things continue to stand, though I know it has not even been a month, it's going to be too intense and too awkward. We can't continue like this. After the move, after I get settled in, after my brain relaxes.... I'll have to pull back.

I think.

I really don't know.

I can't imagine wanting another.

And it sounds so silly to say that. I'm so cynical about love sometimes. No belief in soul mates, in only having that one person. I know that it's just a matter of time before he washes away from me, memories dragged out to sea as what we were fades and is replaced by the reality of what we are.

But it doesn't feel like that now. It doesn't feel like that at all.

It feels like a boulder has been placed blocking the path to my heart, and nothing will move it.


  1. Just catching up on everything. Such huge changes in your life...and a new car? How very...manipulative. And not very wise of them. A car is a single event, tangible. Offer of school money...over time, potentially withdrawn, much easier to use as a carrot for your continued good behavior.

    All things considered, it's nice to start out with a new car to enjoy while you're fighting your way forward. Is it registered in your name?

  2. I don't think it was manipulation as much as it was guilt. Apparently my mother informed my father that the reason I was moving out and not going to school full-time like I planned was because of him.

    But in a more tactful manner.

    My old car was hitting about 115K miles, starting to need even more mass maintenance than I had already put into it, and my constant driving all over LA and beyond worried them.

    It is registered in my name and my mother's name, and will be until April, post-taxes, as the car had some tax credits on it. Then it will be shifted to solely my name. I would not have allowed it to be registered in my father's name. Neither would my mom, heh.