Tuesday. 7.3.12 1:20 am
We had a regular substitute for a while, in sixth grade, because our teacher had her baby--by this time, I've forgotten the substitute's name completely, but I digress. One day, we had to write up a cause and effect worksheet for the science lesson of the day. The sub made sure to emphasize that she would give us zeros if we decided to start sentences with "because," because APPARENTLY that forms a sentence fragment.
Because I had higher than a third grade reading level, I started every single one of those mofos with the word "because." And she gave me a 100, too.
Random things remembered at one in the morning.
Meanwhile, in my romantic life...
Apparently I'm relationship material.
...The last time I was in a relationship, I couldn't see R-rated films without an adult.
By my recommendation, we're dating for a while longer until we get our bearings. He gets it. Kind of. I want to make sure this one sticks, because now I'm older, and more mature, and know what I want for myself. It could feasibly be a good, long-lasting relationship, and it would SUCK if I managed to ruin it by getting cold feet just because I felt a rush to commit.
...That's all I have for you. I'm crazy tired.
Oh, and does anyone else happen to have a tumblr?
different shades of blind
Wednesday. 6.27.12 9:28 pm
He's a twenty-year-old day trader (who turns twenty-one on the same day my best friend/soulmate turns twenty-one), and, on our third date, he compared us to Barack and Michelle Obama and kissed me on the lips.
"I wonder if Michelle ever wanted to push Barack off the sidewalk into traffic," I threatened.
"Probably." He grinned.
It was like I threw a punch and he did the limbo under my outstretched arm.
He's absurdly into me, and I'm pretty sure I'm also absurdly into him.
Technically we've only been on two dates, but he counted the night we met as a date...which eventually I counted, too, just because he's so persistent. I would definitely only maybe push him into traffic, now. That's a marked improvement.
Date four is tomorrow.
over the bridge
Saturday. 6.23.12 5:00 pm
Monday. 6.4.12 10:45 pm
The three of us are sitting in a bedroom.
"Let's see who can go the longest without laughing," he suggested.
He and I kind of concentrated on one another, when all the sudden he looked up at our straight-faced companion. He looked so serious that we both burst into laughter immediately.
Then we tried looking just at each other, but we both thought of the straight face at the same time and started laughing again.
And these are the people with whom I spend 10+ hours per day.
I hug them, lean on them, lay around with them, and occasionally playfully punch someone, like I would with my closest friends. It's been a week since we started getting to know one another in-depth.
I'm not really sure what I've been doing lately. It's been filled with free food, training, and dates (including a recent and memorable night with two separate dates, PLAYAAAAAAAA (neither was so much as kissed)).
Oh, and a beautiful town. We all have one thing in common, and that's the love of this school and the surrounding city.
They meant it when they said it would be the best summer ever.
"What do you want?" I pressed, mentally. I was sitting beside my date at an outdoor concert, wondering why I couldn't just like him. I want to!
"A repressed maniac," I responded, shruggingly.
This is the most concise, accurate statement I've heard in quite some time, and if you look at the most passionate and lasting romances in my life, that will be the common thread.
I disgust me.
But at least I know that I have a type, and that the type sucks. Maybe this will cause me to pursue a different type of male in the future, since the past romances with this type have been destroyed by a stubbornness and lack of willingness to commit that, frankly, rivals my [typical] own (although I do set that down for the right person).
Or perhaps I'll continue to make the same mistakes, because I don't think easy relationships are the best. Things were only ever difficult because there was an abundance of passion. I would say that there's hardly a better reason for that ship to sink.
It creates good memories and makes me a different person for having gone through it. yourcupoftea mentioned that you don't have to let the bad parts change you for the worst--that you're entering a new situation, every time you have a new relationship, and that there's no reason to bring new bad behaviors in, just because someone didn't treat you well, in the past.
I don't know how true that is, because I think some things deep within ourselves are irreparable, but it's sort of like how hundreds of people can ask the same question, but none of them know anyone else asked; you can't be mad at the 101st person any more than you can be mad at the first. You can't punish the next person for the mistakes of the previous.
"Not yet," I said, making full eye contact to make sure that it was an "understood No." My first date of the night had come back around the corner in an attempt to kiss me, and I very smoothly smushed my left index finger over his lips before he could lean in.
"Froze" would be a good past-tense verb to use; he froze, eyes wide open, stunned by my quick reflexes and obvious dislike for his actions.
He took it well, considering, but I could tell he was shaken by my blatant rejection. He said he got it, he had to work for it, and left.
Had he been the right person, in the right situation, with the right attitude, he would have been made in the shade. No degree on wining and dining will make me want to kiss you if you aren't the guy for me. There is no way to work for it. If you're awesome, you're awesome, and if you're not, you don't get kissed.
Whenever a guy says he has to work for it, I don't give him that next date. Saying you have to work for a kiss is essentially saying that you have to win me. And you know what you win? Objects. Inanimate-freaking-objects. I am a human. I'm not looking for love, but I am single and actively mingling, so obviously I'm open to the idea of finding love and checking out my options as they become apparent. I am not looking to be taken out to dinner and such in exchange for physical affection. That is one middle man away from accepting money, and you know who does that? An escort. Go buy an escort dinner. Don't call me.
So that's where we are, and that's what I came here to say.
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