Maybe he’s just a part of me
If I email a jerk in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it really count?
Ah, my dears, I am coming to the sad realization that a certain jerk-boy may be a permanent part of my life, whether I like it or not (and sometimes I think I actually like it). Tonight I’ve been emailing back and forth with you-know-who (whose name I said I would never mention again on this blog), and, I have to admit, it’s actually been kind of nice. Call me crazy, call me desperate and lonely, call me whatever you want… but sometimes it’s nice just to shoot the shit with a familiar email address and get the occasional R-rated compliment in the process. So sue me!
As I always said, there’s just something about him that makes me feel so comfortable sometimes, something that erases all logical reasoning and clear-headed decision-making and ushers in a thick, cloudy haze of “this feels nice” and “remember that great night” and “wish you were here.” I can’t help it if I’m magnetically drawn to him like a hopeless 15-year-old girl, can I? Wait, don’t answer that…
I really have no excuse for allowing him back into my life (er, inbox) and am not attempting to come up with one. I don’t feel the need to justify this to anyone, simply because there is absolutely no logical justification that I could ever come up with if I thought about it for a million years. It’s irrational, incomprehensible, and completely toxic… but here I am, rattling off witty banter in the form of electronic flirtations and nostalgic musings. I don’t quite know what to say for myself, except that it’s making me happy in this moment, and, based on every instance of history with this guy, will inevitably make me miserable in the end.
So why do I do it? Because when he talks about how much he misses his family or about how lonely he gets in New York, I get that little glimpse into the decent, good-hearted man that I bonded with so long ago, and it makes me happy. That man has long-since disappeared into the ether of the city, but for a moment, I can smell his cologne and hear the crinkling of his shirt as it falls to the floor…
Sometimes people are like drugs — you want nothing to do with them but part of you wants them. It’s what makes life complicated … and interesting … and exhausting.
June 16th, 2009 at 7:07 pmUgh.
Lance’s last blog post..Being Tall vs. Great Game? Take the Game.
June 16th, 2009 at 10:41 pmMr NYC – So true – it’s an addiction that I can’t seem to shake.
Lance – No kidding.
June 16th, 2009 at 10:45 pmhttp://www.thedateabledork.com/2009/04/hot-marine-the-last-straw/
June 16th, 2009 at 11:05 pmVirgin – Yeah, yeah, yeah…. you know, I purposefully didn’t link to that post. : )
June 16th, 2009 at 11:10 pm