Sunday, August 21, 2005

they keep coming back

Why is it the moment we stop missing someone they step back into our lives? I'm persistent, I don't give up on people easily or very often, so when I do stop considering a person as part of my life, it's a big step. While this can apply to any of my friends, I generally kick guys out of my daily thoughts. One day he's there, a constant image in my brain or his name is dropped into every four conversations or the smallest and strangest things make me think of him. I might linger on a picture of him once in awhile and wonder when we will talk again or see one another and if everything is really over. And if it's over, does that mean not even a friendship? Or has he just lost a place in my life?

Generally I maintain friendships with exes. Although it might not end nicely and we might not be friends immediately following the end of the relationship, we come back together after a few weeks or months and are friends without any of the awkwardness of being former lovers (okay, sometimes there is awkwardness but it depends on the dude). I like that I do have these friendships because there is nothing like a close male friend that knows you intimately. There is none of that weird "What if [insert male friend's name] he likes me? What if I develop feelings for him? Will that ruin the relationship?" because you've already been there. You can just be friends.

But when they suddenly come back into your life and you haven't quite been "just friends" for very makes things awkward. I recently stopped expecting anything to happen again with an ex. We were friends and the last time we saw each other, we ended up spending the night together. It was completely unexpected and pleasantly surprising, but confusing as well. Now what? We were friends, but everytime we saw each other post-breakup, we were getting in each other's pants. What's the deal? I wanted to ask, but knew that such an inquiry could destory everything. There are those questions we think, that burn in our brains, yet we know to ask them will only make him question us. So we ask our girlfriends and we wonder what's going on until something definite happens.

I'm in the questioning period right now. No idea what's going on with the ex who calls me almost every weekend to see what I'm doing for the night or to which bar I'm teetering to in my too-high heels. He ditches his friends to meet up with me, he looks out for my friends and I at the bar when creepy guys linger too long or force their tongues down our throats after doing a very public line of coke. He kisses me on the street corner despite that his friends are nearby. He tells me he's crazy about me and when I take too long arriving at a party, he asks my friends where I am. He holds my hands on our drunken walks home and walks barefoot down Belden so that I can wear his much more comfortable flip flops when my feet hurt. His friends ask if we are dating again.

All of this leaves me wondering what he's thinking, what he wants, and what I want. I won't ask the questions (even though I want the answers) because I don't want him thinking that I'm looking for more of a committment from him. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But before he walked back into my life (running into him on a busy street outside of a bar), I honestly couldn't see us together. I told myself that it would never have worked out and that I was happy with us being friends, maybe hanging out after he moved to the city. And now that I wake up next to him on Saturday mornings, I'm not sure if I still believe that or not.

I need a new distraction.

1 comment:

Maxwell Thomas Wastler said...

I have some free time at work today, so I'm going to write you.

I think the biggest mistake we make as people is letting that which isn't said get in the way.

I have no idea why, but for some reason, we're built to resist saying what we really think. Subtitle scenes in a classic Woody Allen film aside, generally speaking, we spend so much time speaking and so little time saying anything. And it isn't usually healthy.

It's starting to piss me off.

TANGENT: I really like the flip-flop guy. That's the way it should be.

But back to the whole thing. I had a conversation with a girl yesterday about peanut butter and jelly. We discussed everything from viscosity of peanut butter to seed content of jelly. It was clear to me from the initiation that she wanted me. Rare though that is, here's the rarest: I didn't want her. I know. I know. Inconceivable. That being said, the entire conversation was about what wasn't being said. Knowing winks from her when referring to liking it "smooth," were met with awkward, choppy retorts like, "No! No, no, no, no, no. Crunchy. I meant to say crunchy is my favorite." A blatant lie, I'll admit it, but under my duress, what could I do but lie.

Apart from the obvious nonverbal analyzation, I could not bring myself to turn this poor woman down. I'm not the most tactful person, this I know, and I thought the tractor beam sized signals I was sending in her direction were spelling it out, "NO," but I guess, I was wrong, because she wants to go out next week. Why is it always a week? Like we need a week to pine away - hers towards, mine away - thinking about what's worth wearing, how much to spend, to buy flowers or not, etc.

But it's this pb and j convo we had where nothing we were saying mattered that lead me to really just hate myself for not blurting. Blurt. Bangs is right, Let It Blurt!

So, who wants to know? I'm blurting. For now anyway. My Catholic, white collar Midwestern soul won't let me for long, so come one, come all. It's the True Man Show, and I ain't no Jim Carrey... I have no idea what that meant.

I love your blog, Erin. Don't stray like I do.