romantic waters

Rather than write another three or four mega posts detailing every conversation and exchange of the past four days, I'll give a condensed version, with a bottom line: I've been back and forth, both in my mind and in prolonged discussions with Upstairs, about what I want. Because I just don't know.

I've all but pushed Dimples aside completely, in the meantime. I haven't seen him since Friday morning, and we've only texted briefly. He's been patient, continuing to express interest but not be pushy. But I sense his wariness. And I don't blame him. I'm a mess. I've let him know that I'm going through something, that I'm working something out, that I'm sorry to seem weird and unavailable, but that he's definitely on my mind. All of that is true. And short of laying down an explicit and surely unwelcome play-by-play of my last four days, that's the best I can do by him right now, until I get my head on straight. He's not an idiot. I'm sure he has some idea this is related to Upstairs, after the drama he witnessed.

Upstairs and I have gone on long talk-walks. On Saturday, we rode Angel's Flight, got mint lemonade down below MOCA, and horsed around in the drained pool next to the John Ferraro building. We took photos of one another peering through a jagged sculpture of textured metal, and I got some shots of the skyline and Walt Disney concert hall, from an angle I'd never seen.



We've sat in my apartment and his, talking. Listening to music. Crying (me, not him). We've had coffee. We've had arguments. I've been all over the map, and he's called me out on it. But even tonight, he wanted me to come out with him.

Neither of us knows where we stand, even still. We're actually laughing about it. But it's a lolsob, not a LMAO. I can hear critics thinking, Well hell, you should only get involved with someone if you're 100% sure you're into them, you dumb cow. Yeah, ok, except two things. 1) When you're a 36 year-old divorcee, you're allowed to be incredibly fearful about what romantic waters you step into, and 2) I'm human, ok? I want to be loved, I want and deserve affection and intimacy. I'm just not sure which waters are safer for me. Plus, no matter what I do, someone is going to be hurt. Doesn't exactly motivate me to move quickly.

There's something that I both pride myself on and hate about myself: my ability to love massively different kinds of men. I don't have a "type." There has been no common denominator that I can put my finger on. I think this says that I'm open minded, and open hearted. I think this says that I'm flexible and dynamic and curious about people in general. But it also means that I can easily get myself into WTFery like this.

The obvious, rational, and healthy thing is to cut everything off and spend a good fat chunk of time being alone and thinking. But it's nearly impossible, with Upstairs being around, being enthusiastic, wanting to see me. And when the hell did I ever claim to be rational or healthy? And let's not even get into the shit I'm getting from my friends telling me I don't need any guy in my life right now, because I have way more important stuff to focus on. God, but wouldn't this blog be so much more boring if I listened to sane people like that?

On Sunday night, I took GHB with a friend, hoping the euphoria would give me some kind of mental clarity, in the same way that ecstasy has in the past. It didn't. It just made me loopy and want to watch anime. And eat Domino's meatZZa. Which we did. Until four am. The high was lovely while it lasted - more visceral, less ethereal than ecstasy - but it was short-lived. And it afforded no revelatory moments re: men.

Anyway, that's where your blogmistress stands with the menfolk in her life, kids. I've no doubt this post makes me seem like a supreme asshole, and that's because, yes, right now I'm definitely being one. This has all happened pretty quickly and been rather overwhelming, but I have no excuse to be riding the fence where anyone's heart is concerned. And I fully admit that I've been stalling for time the past few days while I try to figure out what I want.

Believe me, that I'm not going to let things stand in this absurd limbo state of melodrama, or let two very kind and considerate men hang on tenterhooks while my idiot self dithers about.

I'm a ridiculous, frivolous, self-absorbed monkey of a girl, but I'm not an evil bitch.