you’ve knocked the over-thinker off her feet.
this past weekend, i ventured out of my daily routine in honor of spring break.
i drove all the way to sunny los angeles to visit jeffrey.
i got into town friday just in time for dinner and drinks. takin’ it easy was necessary. saturday night we were plannin to party hard. like keanu reeves style.
that evening was quite memorable- for me anyway.
dinner was mexico city. delicious.
drinks at the griffin. then lounge something or other hipster fuck dive. then good luck, which i referred to as a chink bar. oops.
it was there that i saw him. yes. it was definitely him. JEMAINE!
and right behind him, mop-topped and all- BRET.
bret proceeded to bump into me. “excuse me,” he said.
oh, believe me, sir. that’s quite alright. you’ve got the most well-written show on television. you can do whatever you want to me.
as i got slapped in the face w a bit of the starstruck, i realized why i was here- JEF.
jef and i have quite the rocky past. maybe you know about it or maybe yer lucky enough not to.
jef has been in my life for quite a while. he comes and he goes. he’s a busy bee. and so am i.
we’ve known each other for such a long time, in fact, that we’ve had the joy of dating, breaking up, hurting each other’s feelings, getting back together, breaking up again, moving 300 miles away, fucking up BIG TIME, not talking for months, trying to be amicable, wanting something more, getting distracted by someone else, and getting to the point where we are now…
which is…?
well, to be honest, as i’m driving home with food poisoning still in my gullet and GI tract, it hit me- i don’t know what we are.
and I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS ANYMORE.
i’m too old for this shit. maybe i’m not really old. but i’m definitely at that point.
i need more from him. i need official. i need labels. i need living 3 miles away, not 300.
have you ever been in a situation where you are well aware that YOU were the one that fucked up royally?
here i am, and i am in this position and it’s one where there’s no control. the ball’s in his court. and he’s hanging out on the sidelines.
i understand why he doesn’t give a fuck. i’m tucked away in the state capitol and he’s got this life, this amazingly wonderful life that distracts him completely.
and beyond that, I’M the one that hurt HIM.
why should he forgive me? what’s the point? to be brutally honest, roles reversed i don’t know what i would choose to do. all the love and adoration in the world can’t fix certain situations.
and beyond all that, we’re so different. i love that we’re different. i love that we think differently, love differently, compose our thoughts differently.
who knows if it would work in the first place. maybe i’m harping on something that would fail anyway.
but at least i would know that i had tried. i’d much rather try and fail than have this feeling. this uneasiness. this nausea.
maybe it’s the food poisoning sitting there eating a hole in my lower intestine, but i’m fairly certain it’s something more.
figure it out, bean. figure it the fuck out or let it go.
