aoife

Apropos of Valentine's Day, the world's crappiest holiday, I am having seriously weird man-situation.

Still thinking about Ben.

Missing my ex like crazy. Weird how I split with one guy and miss Chris instead. But no matter what I do, I run up against the one thing that I really feel in my heart: Something went seriously wrong with the world the day that boy married someone that wasn't me.

Talked to a friend of mine today who likes to, every now and then, tell me about his feelings for me. Trouble is, I've known him for years and I know too much about him, and I'm just not interested in kissing him, fucking him, or dating him. But he's my friend, and I care about him, and it's flattering (particularly given my recent detatchment), so I just feel uncomfortable.

So of course then I wonder if I'm only attracted to men I can't have or men who won't really love me and I blow off the ones who might. I don't want to do the things I've accused certain friends of mine of doing, of intentionally sabotaging things.

But if there's one thing I've learned from N., it's that I should trust my feelings.

I had an awkward phone call with him a few minutes ago, though. We are supposed to be friends and all, and I sent him a text message yesterday to call me because I had something to tell him that pertained to his band. And apparently he got the message again tonight, so he called me. I called him back, and we really had nothing to say.

I really just want to hug him right now for some reason, though. Tell him that it's OK and I don't want things to be weird and someday I want him to tell me about the girls he dates and blah blah blah. I'm not now nor could I probably ever be in love with him, but I do think I could love him.

So: today's journal is dedicated to love, being in love, the difference between the two, and being able to tell the difference.

To Chris, to Craig, to N., to Ben, to a few other people out there, to my past, present, future, to everyone who's willing to love and be loved. It takes a special type of courage.


added for your viewing pleasure: pictures of me laced into some foxy corsetry. I need to find an excuse to wear those things more often. . .