Well, I woke up with a swollen eye thanks to a stye. I wasn’t sure that’s what it was when I went to bed, but I was sure when I woke up. Derek came over last night kind of late. He would have been here earlier but I was being my usual uncertain self and told him I didn’t want any company, but then we just kept texting one another and before I realized it, all I wanted was to hear his voice in my ear and feel his hands in my hair, so I asked him if it was too late to change my mind and he seemed to have overlooked the question in the midst of our texting so I thought I was going to be sleeping alone until he all of a sudden told me he was on his way as long as I hadn’t changed my mind again. I think between yesterday and today I figured out part of my problem. Not the part about me being a psychopath. I think we all have that part figured out. But my problem with this whole situation. It’s the absence. I think sometimes the absence of pain is almost as shocking as the initial pain. Have you ever been hurt by someone or lost someone? Not lost them to death or anything just lost them to a fucked up set of circumstances. You think you’ll never breathe again. Then one day you wake up and you’re breathing. You’re looking in the mirror and your eyes are happy and you don’t hurt any more for any reason. And for a brief moment you miss that pain and you want it back because it was your companion for so long it became a part of who you were until you were happy and it wasn’t you anymore. I think that is what I have been dealing with. It took comments from a couple of you dear readers for me to figure this out. Not that I was grieving or unhappy, but my constant complaining about half ass men and half ass men in the dating world had become my constant companion. It was my comfort zone. For a moment, I thought, if I am happy and can’t complain about the dating world in my quirky little humorous way, that I would somehow be boring or something. I think my being miserable in love has somehow kept me content for so long that I was terribly scared to find someone I could sit across from at a table and enjoy, but as I laid in the dark talking with him last night, I realized that sometimes I am a stupid, stupid girl. And when we got up this morning and went into the kitchen to cook and laugh and eat together, I realized that I could do this every day for the rest of my life.
I had a volunteer gig today at a music festival that he dropped me off at and picked me up from. When I got in the car afterwards, I was fairly miserable. My eye was swollen and ugly. I had been sweating for six hours straight so I probably wasn’t smelling my best. I had a splitting headache from the heat. All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed and maybe throw up, but he wanted to go to the bookstore and look for a book we had been talking about a few days earlier and so I smiled and tried to be excited despite how crappy I was feeling. We went to McKay’s, found the book, and then we drove around for a bit stopping to look at places that were made of stucco because of another previous conversation that we had and we ended up at Carabba’s to eat. By this time it was probably 9:30pm and I had started to feel a little better, though I’m pretty sure it was just my fake it til you make it attitude I had convinced myself to go with. So we ate and talked and laughed and laughed some more, which was odd because I had just gotten done telling two separate people on two separate occasions that we have fun together but we don’t really laugh, but I guess we do. And often. We drove home still talking and sat outside to continue our conversation for quite a bit until he told me I looked tired and I admitted that I was exhausted and he left. It didn’t feel like midnight when he pulled off, but it was. So now, I’m in my pajamas staring at this computer screen wondering what the fuck my problem has been over the last week. Maybe it was post menstrual syndrome. Is that a thing? I’m not sure, but if I go back and forth one more time about this guy, I really think I need one of you to come slap the insanity out of me because despite what he says, he really is amazing and I really have mental issues that I need to get worked out before I ruin what could possibly be the best thing I’ve ever had.