Sunday, December 31, 2006

Be Careful What You Wish For.

The XX left.

His flight back home doesn't leave until Saturday, but he's not here anymore. The short story is that he wanted a romantic relationship which I am not ready to have with him again. I would have liked some time to figure out if my old feelings for him could come back, but he didn't really want to give it to me. He disliked me putting him up in my living-room instead of my bed. He doesn't know how to divorce his romantic feelings from his attraction to me and wanted to salvage his trip by sleeping with me for the next week.

Call me crazy, but if someone says they love you should they be walking out the door when you say you won't have sex with them? I realize that intimacy is part of romantic love. But why should sex be the only way to have it?

I know that I've hurt him terribly and for that I hate myself. I feel like I never should have let him come visit me in the first place. But why couldn't he have respected my wishes and taken things slowly? Why couldn't we find out if we were still friends before finding out if we were still attracted to each other?

I'm angry and sad at the same time. He's waited four years to tell me he still loves me. He never tried before and now that he has, he won't wait for my feelings to change, to see if they'll change.

I truely hope that New Years Eve isn't really indicative of how your year will go. Because I am going to be sad and alone this year.

Friday, December 29, 2006

It's called personal space.

So the XX is here. He arrived on Tuesday a little unexectadly. I thought I'd get an "I landed" warning call, but instead I got an "I'm here" call. But whatever. I hadn't had time to blow up the airmattress that I was going to make him sleep on. I didn't get to clean my room so it was presentable or wash the dishes or my bathtub.

He's asked each morning if it's "okay" for him to be there. I say yes, of course it is. And he says I get the feeling you don't want me here, or I wonder if I've made a mistake in coming over here.

We went to see my family. (I know, but what else could I do, I don't see my brothers often or my neice and nephew. So I dragged the XX along.) He got along with everyone well and then the kicker. I said something insesitive to my mom (apparently moving out has not cured this disease) and went into the kitchen to apologize which she accepted and then I helped her clean. She then says to me how cute XX is and that she told my father so on the phone when he'd called. *picture me here with eyes bugging out* But it gets worse. Later as I'm sitting with my brothers and their wives and XX my mom comes out to say goodnight. She's saying how nice it was of him to come to dinner bla bla and then out of the blue she says "And what else did mom say about him?" As if I had come back to the kitchen and reported to the table her comment (and yes, she used the third person). Obviously I denied knowing anything, my brother looks at me with a "you don't want her to keep going do you?" look. XX insists on hearing it, because, well you can't say something like that and then not share. So she says she thinks he's sooo cute and told my father so. *picture my eyes popped out and my head hung in mortification*

It isn't that I care if my mom thinks he's cute. He is cute. It's that I specifically told her on more than one occasion that I wanted to see my family, but that I was afraid bringing XX would give him the wrong impression. I didn't want him to see it as a stepping stone to a relationship - It's time to meet my family - type. And there she goes talking to him like he's a boyfriend.

And now I'm behaving very stand-offish toward him. No wonder he's asking if I have a problem with him being here. It's not that he's here persae, it's just that he's in my personal space. I've only just gotten into this apartment. I haven't completely settled, haven't completely discovered it's quirks or where everything goes. And now he's here. I'm suddenly embarrased by the small things that were just part and parcel of having an inexpensive place. Like the fact that the tub drains slowly so you shower with water up to your ankles. Or that it's kind of cold because I leave the heat off if I'm not home, or that the heating unit occasionally likes to blow cool air. I am already frustrated with trying to find him free parking when I told him not to rent a car that he could use mine. I don't like feeling like a kid playing house around him. He's 7 years older than me his apartment when I met him (when he was my age now) was nicer and bigger than mine and was generally more established than I am. He brought be very thoughtful X-mas gifts, and then bought me a coffee maker and has said on occasion since he's been here "don't worry, I'll get you that" about something I don't have. He wanted to make coffee and was going to use my new coffee grinder which I haven't even used yet. That's when I realized that I was irritated at his presence. But it isn't him completely. I am on my own now and that's how I want to be, on my own. I appreciate help, I'm not saying I don't or that I don't need it. I just don't enjoy being coddled and I don't want to feel like I'm a little girl.

That is how I feel around him. It was fine 6 years ago when I was young and he was my first real relationship. I wanted to be taken care of. Now I wish he would stop trying to take care of me. It's not his place and it is wearing thin. It is wearing thin and he's here for another 8 days.

At the same time I am too nice to say anything. I realized, that I did the same thing the X. I was afraid that he'd hate me, I was afraid we wouldn't be friends anymore so I didn't tell him no when I felt no and instead I let it drag on until he ended up hurt. Now he doesn't speak to me. Self-fufilling prophesy. I'm going to have to come clean with the XX, I just don't know when.

We are supposed to visit my father's tomorrow. Maybe my gun-toting father will scare him off and I'll be off the hook.

Friday, December 22, 2006

The down side to living alone

Jars.

Having someone else open jars. Usually I am good with this. But I have finally met my match with a jar of Trader Joe's Organic Marinara Sauce. I desperately need marinara sauce, but the lid will not budge. I have tried every trick in the book. Hot water on the lid. I banged it on the table, I banged it with a knife, I tried this weird jar opening gizmo that my mother gave me, I tried one of those non-slip grip pad things that is supposed to be for opening jars because some times your hand is too slippy to get a good grip. Nothing.

It.
Will.
Not.
Budge.

My poor lasagna is waiting for marinara and all I can do is disapoint it. I guess I go to plan B and have chocolate for dinner again.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Here I thought...

I was wandering my public library and I discovered this book Why You're Still Single: things your friends would tell you if you promised not to get mad.

Here I thought I was single because I wanted to be. Because I like the freedom of doing what I want when I want and not worrying if the SO is going to think I'm neglecting him. But what I have gleaned from skipping around and only reading the parts that struck my fancy, is that I'm single because I have lost the respect of the men I'm seeing by giving in to them and sleeping with them to early coupled with my being too busy to devote myself to the business of making a relationship work due to my fear of comitment.

In other words...I'm having too much fun and filling my time with other things that make me happy.

And yeah, I do have a fear of comitment, asylums always look like scary places on tv, I'm sure they're worse in real life.

Is there such a thing?

I wonder if there can be such a thing as a MILD Manic-Depression? Some people are diagnosed with mild depression, but can someone be only mildly manic?

Lately I've just be going...it started on Friday. I woke up at a reasonable hour, went to the gym, visited a friend of mine and her new baby, went out to lunch, returned a late video and then went shopping for hours. I bought a christmas tree and wreath, decorations for both, a kitchen cart, and other numerous items I needed for my new place -a coffe press, a coffee grinder, coffee beans (and no it's not caffeine, I haven't used them yet), an iron, an ironing board, febreeze etc. I got home pretty late and was feeling like I should go to bed instead I put on my dance music and proceeded to assemble my christmas tree, decorate it and decorate the wreath. I got to bed sometime after 1am. I had to work on Saturday so I get up do all that good stuff go to work and while I feel like I should be exhausted enough to just go straight to bed, I go shopping again, buy more decorations and more things for my apartment (like a humidifier). Take down all the decorations from the christmas tree and wreath and re-do it all. In the background I also had a movie going. Around 11pm I decide that it's a great time to put that kitchen cart together so I take out all the pieces and put it together while I'm on the phone with a friend of mine who wants to go for Indian food. But, I'd had 2/3 of a pizza that day so I just put my cart together instead. I even start moving the furniture and loading things onto my new kitchen cart.

Again I think it was 1 or 2 am before I decide it's time to go to bed. On Sunday, again I have to work, and I contimplated working out before hand, but I didn't really have the time so instead I cleaned my bathtub before taking a shower. So I go to work and from there I call J, then go dancing, leave there after 10 go to my mother's leave there after 11, get home and decide that instead of letting the box of stuff I got at mom's sit I'll put everything away and I do. About 1:30am I realize I need to move my car or I'll get a ticket. So I go to my car and drive for a bit find a close space I won't get a ticket at, get stopped by a lady wanting to know about the bus schedule (at 2am!). Finally I think I got into bed at 2:30 and got up at 6 for work. Which I did just fine. That is what is weird, I should feel exhausted. Part of me knows that I need sleep. My eyes feel heavy mostly, but the rest of me says keep going.

Yesterday I got a ton done at work and after I got home I blogged , worked out, blogged again, chatted online with a friend (ranting about racist politicians) and then decided that I need to re-assemble my kitchen cart because the shelves were at the wrong height to fit my tiny appliances (namely the airpopper which is the tallest). I got the idea after taking my air popper out of the box it moved in to make popcorn for dinner and not wanting it to go back in the box. So that is what I did. I took the shelves apart and reassembled them at better hights.

I got to bed a little earlier than I had been, but I had to get up at 5:30 to shower, as the building is doing something with the hot water today and shut it off at 6am. I got ready and went to my meeting for 8am.

I don't feel like I'm realy "manic" at least not in that paint 20 paintings with out sleeping during the night after a night of clubbing and still have energy to make belgian waffles in the morning. I wonder if it isn't more likely that because my exercise routine has failed me my body is trying to use up the energy that usually got spent working out. The classes I went to pushed me harder than I tend to on my own. But I danced for 4 hours on Sunday and still I was looking for things to do at home.

I know that I am prone to depression, but this weird burst of activity and not feeling like I need to sleep for 12 hours afterwards is new to me.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

So I went

I dragged myself to the gym at 8. I'm glad I went. I hit the exercize high as I was finishing a mile run on the treadmill. I only ran a mile, but I did it the whole way at 6mi/hr. I used to be able to do two miles at that pace (I know it's not great, but I was working my way up). I think that by the weekend I'll be back at two miles at 6mi/hr. Then I power walked another mile on an a gradually increasing incline.

I think some of what kept me going was watching CNN. They were doing a peice on racism in America. The part I really paid attention to was about Colorado Representative Tancredo who compared Miami to a third-world country. His reasoning is not based on poverty, living conditions, illiteracy or crime statistics, but on the fact that immigrants who settle there don't completely assimilate into American culture, because they continue to speak Spanish instead of English. And he claims that he is not being racist. Mainly because he expects immigrants from anywhere to assimilate into "American Culture."

Now, call me a geek if you want, but when I hear the word Assimilate my brain automatically goes to the Borg - you know those creepy bio-technology hybrid people on Star Trek that lived in a hive-like environment. They were the bad guys. "Resistance is Futile" and "prepare to assimilate" were about the only things you heard from them. They wiped away individuality to the point that the only thoughts a borg had were the thoughts of the collective.

Tancredo went on to say that "multiculturalism" and "mulitlingualism" might be alright for the individual but was not good for a country or a community. Tell that to Quebec you jackass. What I don't understand is how homogony is supposed to help America. Is he wanting us to be even more intolerant as a whole nation than we already are? And how exactly is not being homogenous the equivalent of a third-world country? Unless he's thinking of places with sharp splits where genocide is taking place, but that is hardly happening in Miami. Well, unless a ton of people start taking Tancredo seriously and decide to take drastic action if the immigrants don't start acting more "American."

Another problem that I have with Tancredo's comments is the singling out of a Latino area. When ever people start mentioning Latinos and Hispanics everyone's mind jumps to illegal immigrants. The line between a race of people and a group of people defined by their actions is becoming blurred in many American's mind. Evidence of this is one of those dumb email surveys that friends send "Fill out all the questions and send it to everyone you want to clog the inboxes of with useless information they already know about you." I got one that had a question "How do you feel about Hispanics?" And the person (an acquaintance, I assure you) who sent it to me replied "as long as they are here legally I'm okay with it. But they should find a legal way of coming to this country or leave." I usually ignore those surveys, but this one I sent back with a scathing remark that the term "hispanic" does not refer to somone's immigration status. There are multi-generational hispanics and latinos in this country that are citizens and their parents, grandparents etc were citizens.

Whoo...I'm getting upset just thinking about it. Obviously it hits close to home for me. I get mistaken for alot of different nationalities. I walked into a chinese restarurant once and the Chinese girl behind the counter asked me if I was Chinese (my licence plate is chinese, but I am not). I've gotten Greek, Italian, Lebonese and even just everyday white. Some people do guess latino, I've had two people get it right on the first try. I understand because I always think that I look white. I inherited my father's fair skin and Irish nose. I did grow up closer to my mother's family and culture. Until we started having Thanksgiving with my Aunts (who like to deny their heritage due to percieved racism, and real racism when they were growing up. I've always admired my mother for being proud of who she was. Unlike my aunts, she realized that it's other people's problem with her, she just is who she is. The one thing I can say about my very conservative mother she is truely color blind.) my family always had Mexican food on Thanksgiving. It was the time that we got to pick our favorite giant meal and it was always Mexican with close to everything my mom knew how to make. I didn't grow up speaking Spanish, I had to take it in high school, but the other students always said I got A's because I was genetically pre-desposed to the language. And we didn't follow any "traditional" customs, so in someways I felt like I was just another white person who knew a little bit about another culture. I think that is why I have it so bad for J. He is like discovering the other half of myself.

Anyway...sheepishly I get down from my soapbox. I don't know where that outpouring came from.

The anger I felt toward this man spurred me on to more physical activity and revived my brain cells a bit too, I think (hence the coming back and blogging).

I stretched out after my run/walk. I couldn't take anymore of the Racism stories. I was planning on leaving but I saw that a guy from my dance class was also about to leave and I was afraid he would want to walk out with me. He's creepy. He leads by grabbing onto my wrist instead of my hand, which besides being dangerous (it can really hurt the girl because you're gripping her instead of the other way around) it's rude. It says "I don't trust you to follow my lead, therefore I will grab you and make you do what I want." He was the one obessed with dipping a couple of weeks ago. He would spin me around and then grab me with a force I thought was going to leave bruises to dip me. I did not want to walk out with him. So instead I hopped on the rowing machine and did 5 minutes at 1/2 the max resistance.

Last winter, when I first started my working out habit, I was doing the rowing machine alot. I would do 20-25 minutes at 1/2 or 2/3 of the max resistance. I was looking at my arms while I was stretching. I like my arms now. It has just been the last few months, but my triceps have finally started to stand out and I've gotten that cut that defines my shoulder. I know I got that from the twice a week weights and ballet (don't under-estimate the benefits of having to hold your arms out Jesus-like for the better part of an hour). Since my new job fucked up my work out schedule I haven't gotten to do much of either of those things. I don't want to lose the results that I've worked for.

Like the eating too. I was being fairly healthy. I wasn't doing fast food or vending machines. In the past month though I've had pizza at least 3 times that I can remember. And by pizza I don't mean a piece of, I mean the whole freaking thing. Ever since I took this new job my healthy eating has gone to shit. I keep eating out of the vending machine at work because it's there on the way to the break room. Yesterday I had trail mix, a candy bar, pretzels and a diet coke on top of my PB &J and apple for breakfast; salad, cous-cous and "chick'n" for lunch. I feel better for having gone to the gym, but I need to re-unite with my healthy eating habits.

This morning we had a breakfast meeting and I'm stuffed. I hope it gets me through the afternoon and I can make myself a sensible dinner.

Monday, December 18, 2006

"Well Meaning" Translates to Meddling

"I taught J to cha cha and he really likes it." Remind me again why I invited Summer Class Girl to go dancing with me? She wasn't going to go, but I thought it would be fun and all I get for it is that statement. In my head I replied "Yeah, well I fucked 5 days ago...you?"

The upside...she was very into some other guys there getting and giving numbers. Which means she must not be seriously into J.

But...the real story. I got trapped by this guy at the dance I went to last night. Not that he wasn't nice, but I wasn't there to talk (and trying to talk over the music just gave me sore throat) I was there to dance. The guy was nice enough, Spanish from Spain, and we chatted. I finally asked him to dance so that I could have an excuse to end the conversation. He kept wanting me to answer questions about myself and I just didn't want to talk. He invited me to a New Years party and gave me his card. He asked for mine, but I said I didn't have one. Even if I had one on me, it's for work.

So I stop at my mother's to pick up some mail, I had a college's friend's Christmas party invite in the pile so I was glad I went. I'm just mentioning that I got a break from dancing because this guy wouldn't stop talking to me. And suddenly my mom is all "What is he like? What's he look like? Why didn't you give him your number? Aren't you going to go out with him?" Ummmm...no.

The sad thing is that if it were only my mom I could understand, but everywhere I look someone is trying to hook me up with guys. What is it about a single girl that screams to those around her "Help the poor soul, she's man-less."

It's frustrating because I can't say that I have a man, of sorts. Or that if I were to go out with anyone I would want it to be him. Because according to everyone around me I'm "not like that." My mother thinks that I'm "not into sex." Her words I swear! It is difficult trying to live up to a certain image for other people. It sucks that I feel I have to. If it weren't that it would ruin J's life, and that I know better, I'd almost wish I'd get pregnant so I can show them all that I'm not perfect, I'm not virginal, and my values are not their values. It would force me to stop pretending.

I pretend to be "good" for my family. I pretend to know what I'm doing and that I'm settling in at work for my boss and coworkers. I pretend to have it all together for my friends because they're pretending to have it all together. I pretend to be cool and casual with J. I'm just plain hiding things from my XX. I have one brother, the eldest, who I think can see through my bull-shit, not that either of us would actually talk about any of the things I do. It's just little things he'll say and then let pass.

I stayed at work too long. I've been expecting J to call today like he said would. But he's not going to. I was going to go work out over half an hour ago. All I really want to do is sit here surf blogs, or watch a movie and eat. I've been stuffing my face lately. It's horrible. I ate from the vending machine three times today - trail mix, a candy bar, pretzels and a coke (those last two were on the same trip). That is on top of the PB & J and apple I had for breakfast and the salad, cous-cous, and "chick'n" pattie I had for lunch. I feel disgusting, but I can't seem to motivate myself to eat better.

We are having a breakfast meeting at work tomorrow. There is going to be tons of food there. I know this, but I'm still typing and not walking to the gym. I am dying for Indian food. A friend of mine and I keep saying that we will go one of these days but we don't. I read a bunch of recipes for black beans and sweet potatoes today at work and I want those too. It's terrible. I must stop.

I must go run and then sleep.

They are turning off our hot water at 6 am tomorrow. 6! Which means getting up an hour and a half early in order to shower tomorrow.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Wednesday December 13

I've never been that girl. the girl that sleeps around. not that it's really anyone's business, but I just never understood the Sex in the City attitude toward se. I've slept with my boyfrieds and again when they were my exes. Until recently, that is.

I did call J last night when I got home from work. I really needed my sleep, but after the one quick call at work I started getting excited to see him. So he came over and I showed him my apartment. I have to say that it was weird at first. Not having him there, just being with him. I kept thinking to myself this is only sex and wondering why I was doing it. But then he said my name and I kind of melted. Lying there with him was a little weird at first. In the car we'd always lounged and talked afterward (when he had the time to stick around). I guess I was waiting for him to say, well gotta run. But he didn't and he held me.

At one point he did ask me if I'd been behaving myself. At first I thought he was asking if I'd been with anyone else. For all he knows I do sleep around. I sleep with him after all. I've stayed on the pill all this time. But in retrospect I don't think he was asking that at all. We have joked about masturbating in the past. I told him that I was indeed behaving myself. But, really I haven't. I have the XX coming to visit. I was with the XX a month ago. I am stuck in this akward position now. I don't want to sleep with the XX when he comes in a couple of weeks, but I think that he's expecting it. He is traveling across an ocean to see me, to tell me he still loves me and see if I can't love him back. I didn't even really want to sleep with the XX when I saw him last month. I was angry with J. I was angry with myself for my feelings for J and I went to see the XX in an attempt to drown out those feelings.

Well, J didn't run off like I had expected. It was actually quite nice, considering it had been two months since we were last together. When he finally did say that he had to go he got dressed, I put on a shirt and walked him to the door. He kept kissing me good-bye. Every time he would go to leave he'd kiss me again. And not just a see you later peck, but super intense, hard, pulling me close like he didn't want to leave kind of kisses. It was all I could do not to ask him to stay longer.

I was basically euphoric after closing the door behind him. I got out my phone to text him and thought better of it. Instead I went to sleep on my euphoric high and texted him in the morning. I don't really know what I was trying to accomplish with that. I just wanted him to know that I was glad we had finally gotten together and I hoped that it wouldn't be so long before the next time. I'm kicking myself now, but there you go.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

It's alive!

Yay for Wi-Fi!! Finally my wireless is working in my new place so I can blog to my heart's conent and not get fired from my job.

I had a whole blog hand written that I was going to transcribe here, but I left it in my book at work. I'm not going to try to re-create it.

Suffice it to say...I called J when I got home last night. He came over. I texted him this morning (doh!) and saw him for all of 5 minutes (no class) today. *Sigh*

Tomorrow I shall lift the suspence by typing up what I wrote, but now, it's bed time (alone). *double sigh*

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

And he calls

7:15pm I get a call from J. He wanted to know if I was home. But I'm at work until 9pm. He tells me he'll be around if I want to call him when I'm done that he'll come by. An hour and a half after I write about not needing his excuses. I am beginning to think I don't need him either. It must the male psychic instinct to call when a girl is about to give up on them.

I don't get home until 9:45. I have to be up at 5:30 in the AM. But I'm still contemplating calling him when I get home. I mean, he's got a project due on thursday but he's calling me...

hmm...if only he'd been so considerate earlier in the semester.

Why oh Why?

Living in my own place is lonely. On the one hand it's nice to have my own space, to know that everything there is mine to use and I'm not going to find anything gone out of the fridge or the tv being used. On the other hand there's just me. I go home at it's empty.

I've got a friend who's boyfriend is out of town for all of December. And once the holiday's arrive I'll be going here and there.

J called me last night after class and said that he'd have to come by to see my new place sometime. Maybe this week. He'd try. But he's got a project due on Thursday and works all of Friday. And he thinks he might be coming down with the flu. I wish he'd just tell me he's done with me. I don't want or need these excuses.

The thought of XX coming to visit is not filling me with excitement like it did when I first told him he could come visit. My family is now talking about coming into town for that week after Christmas. That would be awkward.

I'm still overwhelmed by work. I am having to plan 6 months ahead in this job. I have never done this shit before and they are expecting me to plan this far ahead, have budgets worked out, have the rooms, the times the people lined up.

What have I done? More than ever I just want to run away. My most recent off the wall fantasy is going to Canada and from there visiting Cuba only to decide to stay.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

It's been awhile

Well, I did it. I had the XX call me over the weekend. I wanted to talk to him and get clear just what he meant when he said he hadn't gotten over me and wanted to visit to see where things could go.

It's weird. I have no hope with J. If it wasn't abundantly clear before it is becoming so. I moved into a new place and he tells me he has to grade papers. Huh? Now, I realize that not every man out there is a total horn dog taking every opportunity to get laid by any willing girl. But I'm a little shocked that a 25 year old isn't jumping at the chance for commitment free sex. It really boggles my mind. Unless I'm totally short changing him and he's deeper than I think. But all evidence points to the contrary.

Anyway, with the hopes of my crush being, well, crushed slowly but surely, I told the XX to come visit over Christmas (or should I say X-mas?). I told him point blank that for 4 years (3 since we last saw each other, the break up was a year before that) I have had it in my mind that he didn't want me. I realized that our differing citizenship only compounded the difficulties in keeping the relationship going, but he never once said, "I can't marry you to keep you in my country, but I love you and I want us to figure something out." He just said, "we aren't headed for marriage and we shouldn't just so you can stay, so it's over." It makes me angry that he's wasted 4 years. I know why he did. His situation was an unhappy one that didn't facilitate a long distance relationship. But I could have done something. I could have gotten my advanced degree over there. I looked into it, but I didn't want to be the girl that chases the man who doesn't want her. I wasn't going to go over there thinking proximity would make a difference only to end up in a foreign country alone and regretting my decision. I also resented the fact that I was the one who had to make the effort to do something to keep us together.

But now he is making the effort. He loves me. I can't just turn my back on that. I may not be able to guarantee that I will end up falling in love with him again, I have to give this a chance.

He's not 25. He's not a hot latin dancer. But he loves me. He's willing to come across an ocean to be with me and that counts for alot.

I am afraid that my will power with J is non-existant though. I don't want to cheat if XX and decide to try the long distance relationship this time. Although he has not said that he wants to, the XX does claim that his intentions are honorable. How ironic would it be though...the XX comes all the way over an ocean to have sex with me and I can't get J to come up in an elevator.

I'm afraid that I want my cake and to eat it too. I enjoy the freedom of being single going where I want when I want not worrying if the SO is interested. But I miss the companionship of an SO, that person who is there for you to listen to hang out to snuggle with. Not that you can hang out and snuggle in the L-D-R.

A part of me wishes that 6 months ago the XX had called up and said move to London. I might have gone. Maybe not though. That is when I met J. I like the fluttery excited feeling I get with J. Sometimes I kick myself because I forget what's on my mind and what I want to say to him because my nerves get to me. But the XX has that warm comfortable cuddly feeling around him. Sometimes I fool myself into thinking that I love J.

On class on Monday only 4 people came. Two couples. So we were just dancing and J would call switch every once in a while. Then about 1/2 way he cuts the music and says he'll teach us a move. He picks a dip because he knows that the one guy, my partner (for the most part) wants to learn a dip. I was hoping he was going to teach an easy one like a side dip, but no. J teaches the ultra slow and sexy front dip. It is the same dip he did the first time he ever kissed me. It was fun demonstrating it with him. I was getting very turned on and I was sure that he'd come home with me afterward. I was less than pleased to have to practice the dip with the other guy. For one the other guy leads like he's trying to get a donkey to budge. I feel like my arms are going to pop out of their sockets. Other Guy also can't keep the beat and ends up on the wrong foot which throws me off and he thinks it's my fault. He's kind of yucky and I didn't want his hands on me. But there you go, that's what you get when you take lessons. OG just kept doing the dip over and over again. He wasn't doing it exactly right, which I was grateful for for once. He wasn't getting super close and intimate about it although there were a few times when he would grab me so hard I thought I was going to find bruises. OG also has a habit of grabbing my wrist instead of my hand to lead me. Which I find uber-rude. It's about leading a partner not forcing them to do what you want. J would take me away sometimes and demonstrate again how it should be done, all slow and close and sexy. I was understandably disappointed that after getting me all hot and bothered J said he had to go grade papers. Wednesday he cancelled class. It's been 2 months! 2 months! since we were last together. No wonder I'm considering moving on to the XX and the overseas relationship. I'd probably get some a little more often!

Speaking of dance partners:
I went out on Saturday after moving my stuff into my new place. A dance lesson and then an open dance. Guess who showed up? L! He said hi and we danced part of a song during the lesson during a partner switch, but he danced one song during the open dance before leaving. I wish I didn't think that I scared him away. But part of me thinks I did.
 
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