kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Survival of the fittest Wednesday ... My eye is twitching. This is a sure sign of tiredness. You see what happened was I stayed home with D. last night and watched a terrible movie on HBO and ate Indian food takeout condiments (my favorite part of the meal). We then went to bed at a decent hour without so much as a glass of wine. I slept relatively well except for the pesky mosquito that attempted to make a meal out of my face (why do mosquitoes love me so much?!!?). So I woke up this morning and I should have felt refreshed and ready to take on the world. I didn't. I was exhausted. I should have stayed out until 3am dancing on tabletops, I probably would have felt better. Yawn. So ... how am I doing? Almost a week since my perfect little love bubble was busted. Well, I am fine. Not fine, as in really I am miserable but I am attempting to fake it. But fine. Fine. Still little murmurs of heartbreak. Sometimes I stop to torture myself and think - what happened? How could things go from so wonderful to all topsy turvy in a matter of days? That's life Anita it? So Monday I was still skating on thin ice, wondering if he would call or what was going on in his perfect little head. I feel like everything I do is done gingerly, so I don't break or something. So Monday night I am treating myself to a manicure/pedicure and he calls - I risk nail smudge disaster to answer. He asks me to go meet a friend with him at Bubble Lounge in Tribeca. I say yes (surprise, surprise). I hang up and start talking to myself about men - and how for someone who needs space he seems to want to see me quite a lot - and what does this all mean - and so on, and on, and on ... The transvestite who is sitting next to me (who I have been ogling for over an hour because s/he is the most gorgeous creature I have EVER seen in my life) gives me a look like "Honey, don't I know it". So then I compliment her/him on his/her haircolor and we chat for awhile. The night actually went well, we didn't mention any of the shit that has been going down between us but we are both so tired of talking it to death that this is probably a good thing. Patrick's friend and his fianc�e were very nice "salt of the earth" types, he is an English teacher who loves his job so I got to talk books and writing with him. Tuesday morning I am feeling all cuddly and happy. I get up to go and he doesn't let go, and I wonder if he has reconsidered any of this space needing thing. When I mention not seeing him until he gets back from Ithaca on Sunday he retorts that he isn't leaving until Thursday night! Well yeah, but isn't that what giving someone space is all about. I dunno. The truth is, don't we all want what we think we can't have? So if we have gotten something we thought we always wanted dropped in our laps (for Patrick that would be me), then we don't know what the hell to do with it, and frankly it is rather disconcerting and scary. I mean, we are so used to NOT getting what we want - what do you do when you do get it? Well ... panic of course - duh. Or if you're me then you try to destroy it, or you wait for it to get all ugly and terrible (Which of course it will because ... well, because I'm ME. And what decent human being would want to hang out with ME? - duh again). So basically we are all waiting ... we are waiting to fall in love, then we are waiting to fall out of love. Or we are waiting for someone to fall in love with us, and then waiting for them to fall out. Fun huh? Yippee. He called last night, he called today ... D. bet me a bottle of wine that I wouldn't sleep at home tonight. Now not only am I juggling my heart around like a beanbag - I also have to buy a good bottle of wine for Ms. D. 19:35:51 - 2000-10-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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