Harold was in town this week. Didn't get to see him too much as I was busy with work and school and he was busy being busy, but did end up meeting up for coffee one night, and then having a little sleep over another, which was (heh) fun. Felt a lot more comfortable with him this time around and was able to just stop Thinking for once, which was nice. We met up for lunch this afternoon before we drove back. He got me Breakfast at Tiffany's on Dvd for Valentine's Day, which was spectacular and unexpected. I can't remember if I told him that I love that movie/Audrey Hepburn or if he guessed. Either way, it was the right answer, ha. I gave him a heart shaped lollypop. I wish I would have known he was going to get me an actual present, I would have put more thought into it. He got a kick out of it, though, so I guess it's ok.

Down point, though, is that he doesn't know when the next time he'll be in town will be--good chance that it won't be for at least a month. He's been traveling a lot more, too, so even if I invited him over for a weekend or something, it's highly unlikely that he'd be able to come. Boo. It sucks, cos I'm really kinda starting to like him, but we have to almost start over every time he comes into town cos there's, like, a month in between. It's really not very fair. Ah well.

I actually had a really good day, today, though, which is both surprising, and kind of upsetting because I feel like I should have been a bit sad. I drove into Ellwood and went up to the cementary. The drive up was absolutely beautiful with the snow on the trees and such. Brought Danny a rose and had a nice little one sided chat, and, surprisingly enough, I wasn't sad. It's a strange feeling, not being upset on this kind of holiday.

Even managed to be cheerful and enjoy myself for the few hours I went into work to help out. Very strange.

Ah well, I have a paper to do. Happy Valentine's Day, all.

I just had a heart breaking conversation.

Nothing like someone telling you that they care about you too much to be with you.

I can understand his point of view. Neither of us know what is going to happen once he leaves, and we both know that it is physically impossible for him to be monogamous. The thing is that I've Accepted that part of him. I've come to terms with it. Honestly speaking, I think that the women that he has/will be with while we're Not together will bother me more than the women he would be with if we Were together. They get to have that part of him. I, I guess, don't. Because he can't give his body and his mind to the same person, I suppose. Or something.

I guess, though, that I have to appreciate his honesty, and I really do appreciate the fact that he actually cares about me too much to disrespect me. That does mean a lot.

It doesn't make hearing the words, "There's nothing about you that's not perfect for me, and I know that I'm going to regret it, but I just can't be with you" hurt any less.

If there is one thing that I have learned from Danny and I's relationship is that, no matter how badly you Know it is going to end, it's better to just enjoy what you have when you have it than to life in fear of the pain that will come after. He has a different idea, in that he would rather "know [me] for the rest of his life than just the next four months". I can understand this, and I do, I do understand his point of view. I know him well enough to get it.

It doesn't make it hurt any less.

The fact, though, that he was So appreciative that I brought him with me as my date to my company's Chinese New Year party, tonight really means a lot to me. The fact that he cares about me means a lot. I just have to accept that that's all that can be of us. I think I can do that. I hope I can do that.

I don't know. It's like that Jurassic 5 song "Respect a Thin Line", yeah?

I did have a good night, tonight. I really missed spending time with that kid. I think things will be okay.

I'm going to sleep.

Things will be okay.

More drunk dials. This one from Rob feeling the need to let me know how much he truly respects me as a person, and really wanted me to know this because he feels that i think he doesn't care about me and deliberately blows me off, which isn't the case. "Honesty like that makes me grow a bit rubbery one" or something along those lines, to quote Fight Club about my feelings on that. He also made mention of wanting to get lunch or "whatever people do who aren't having sex', which I suppose means he's serious about wanting to keep me as a platonic friend, which, while I would love to continue our physical relationship, is nice to hear because I was a bit worried that he wanted to keep me as a "friend" for casual sex purposes. So hooray for the drunken honesty of Rob making me feel a bit better about our friendship.

I do find it highly amusing that I got two drunk dials in the course of a half hour. Ha.

At any rate naps suck because they make me not sleepy for when I should be sleeping. Like now, when I have to be up for class in six hours or so. Evil.

So Harry decided to answer my drunk dial last night by drunk dialing me tonight. I feel much better about the whole thing, now, specially as I didn't leave a message last night, just hung up. *whew*. Crisis averted. I'm still a bit embarrassed, but he doesn't hate me, so that's good. Haha. Still. Never drinking again. Until tomorrow. Heh.

Went out last night to the 'Lube with Evan and people from work. One of my coworkers' wife is about to have a baby any second, so the seemingly smartest thing to do is for him to get blasted and for us to toast the possibility of getting the phone call at that moment, or when he's hungover the next day. Drank....quite a bit. Really was like, one drink away from dancing on the bar, as I danced with pretty much everyone else, haha.

As it is, I woke up still drunk and then checked my phone as I am a notorious drunk dialer...and I drunk dialed Harry. Fuck. I texted him saying to disregard anything I might have said on a message, but now I'm afraid he hates me. Fuck. I have been mortified (on top of my hangover) for the entirety of the day. Ugh. He doesn't seem like the type of person who would find that amusing. I have no idea what to do now. Ugh.

I like that I opened my fridge and there was a Denny's turkey club in it that I don't remember in the least. It's like drunken magic.

Evan and I have decided to go to London/other places in Europe for spring break. I am excited. I now have to be cheap, though, so as to save enough money by March to go, but still. YAY! I am so excited.

Ugh. I suppose I should do my homework that I put off all evening. Damn sadistic professors, assigning homework the first week of class. Evil.

I seem to have lost my ability to read people. Either that, or the last few boys I've been interested in are just impossible to read.

I went out with Harry, tonight, to the movies (saw the Bucket List, which was great, by the way. A bit bittersweet at the end, but still really good).The odd thing is, then, that when he dropped me off at my apartment, my goodnight kiss was nothing more than a peck before he pulled away. Okay, I get the hint, he's not that into me. At least that's what that says to me, specially after we've made out a few times, so I think we're past the awkward goodnight kiss stage. But then he says that he should be back in town in a few weeks--he has to go to Italy (he works for an Italian company that has offices over here) for two weeks, and what should be bring me back? I told him to "surprise me", but now I'm super confused. I'm fine with the idea of him not being into me--he lives on the other side of the state. I don't know why I'm getting myself involved in the first place, but, unfortunately, he intrigues me. But why, if this is the case, would he offer to bring me back something from Italy and make sure to let me know when he's coming back? I am so confused. I want to ask him what is going on, but I don't want to be 'that girl". I know I've been out of the game for a while, but I don't remember things being this complicated. Why can't I find another boy like Danny who wore his feelings on his sleeve? I never had to be all self conscious or questioning with him, I knew from the first time we hung out how he felt. Stupid boys.

Speaking of stupid boys, I think Rob's back in town, but he didn't return my call, though I did speak to him online a few days ago. Ah well. I made my effort. If he's serious about wanting to stay friends, it's his turn.

This has just been an all around disappointing week. Over the weekend Gregg was in the area for a wedding and we were going to get together when he drove through around here on his way to Niagara. I ended up having to work, but he was going to visit me there, so I gave him the address of the restaurant. Turns out, for some reason, there are two Cranberries in this freaking state, and the one he ended up in is two hours in the wrong direction. So that killed that idea, which sucks cos I really have been missing the kid for some reason. I haven't seen him in almost two and a half years or so. Boo on that.

Then Harry and I were supposed to go to the Improv Sunday night, but, based on him having family things to take care of (his grampa is sick and he had to take him to the hospital for preventative measures), a miscommunication (he thought the show started later than it did) and awful road conditions, he didn't get into town till way too late to do anything seeing as how he had to wake up early for work. So Evan came over and we watched Idiocracy, which is awesome enough that it almost made up for it. Almost.

Then yesterday, when I got out of class, I discovered my battery was dead. That was exciting. Of course this is also the one day that I forget my cell phone at home. It took me an hour to find someone to jump it and get enough juice for it to turn on and by the time I got home, ran in, c hanged, and got to work I was almost a half hour late. And actually, seeing as they, for some reason, thought I would be in at three (which is impossible as I don't even get out of class till almost 230), I was, by their standards, even later. Grand.

My English professor is sadistic and assigned us 60 or so pages to read for tomorrow, which meant I had to go get my books, today. Stood in line for an hour and a half or so, and ended up a bit late for Algebra, which sucks cos I need every moment of class time there I can get). I'm doubly bothered by my English class because we have to analyze poetry, which is one of my biggest annoyances with lit classes. Why do people automatically assume there are higher meanings and symbolism in poetry? Yes, I know that, generally speaking, there are, but what if that's just a generalization made by people assuming there will be? Can't a person just write something because they feel like writing it? Why does there have to be more to it than that? And, of course, we mostly study poetry by dead people who can't stand up and say, "No, really, I just felt like writing a poem about a wagon". Ugh. I am not going to enjoy this class, and that bothers me.

Good thing, though: my final project for my Children's Lit class is to write/illustrate a children's book. I'm excited. I'm considering doing something explaining death/grief to kids in a secular way. Something that I would have liked to find when my sister was dying. Paired up with the fact that I'm taking that Psych of Death/Dying class, I think it will work out in an interesting way. We'll see. It will either be that or something about a sock monster who lives in the dirty clothes under your bed.

Class and then work, tomorrow. Fan-freaking-tastic. I'm kind of sad that I'm not going to bed with a goofy smile on my face because of a boy. Stupid confusion.


OH! I forgot to add: I dreamed of Danny last night. Was the first time in a long while. I forget how it was set up, but he just showed up at my apartment and I was really excited because I thought that he had somehow come back from the dead. I told him all about going to see his family for Xmas and then mentioned the Death/Dying class that Evan and I are both taking. He looked sad at that (he never spoke in this dream for some reason, but I could tell what he was thinking in a telepathic dream way), and I told him not to be upset, because it wasn't just because of him that this class would be good for the both of us to take. We both had lost people close to us (my sister; his father) and this might be beneficial for those reasons, as they were both terminal illnesses, than because of him, because his death was sudden and different. But it was okay, I told him, because he was back now, so it didn't matter. He looked even sadder at that statement, like he was going to cry and then I realized. You're not really back, are you? I asked. He shook his head. I'm dreaming, aren't I? I asked. He nodded, and we both started to cry a bit and so we kissed, and it was...strangely awkward. As if I have gotten so used to the kissing styles of other boys (all....two of them that I've kissed enough to pick up style), that I forgot his. Which is a sad thought. But then I woke up.

I miss him. I miss dreaming of him, too. It really has been...god, months, since I have. At least like that, where there was interaction and knowledge of his death like it was a visit of sorts.

I want so many things right now that I have no idea what I want. Strange how that works, innit?

Another date with Harry last night. Things progressed to a bit of a physical level and, of course, I got all silly and awkward and 14 year old girlish because I am a super loser and cannot, for the life of me, let myself go in the bedroom. At least until I'm really comfy with someone, I suppose, but really...I dunno. I feel like a bit of a loser.

As it is, I guess he's driving back to Philly tonight and then coming back in a day or so because we have plans to go to the Improv Sunday night. Well, that's not why he's coming back--he has a meeting on Monday, but that's how I know he's coming back is cos we have plans. Or something. Do I sound this awkward in real life? Jesus.

Yesterday I discovered that eating before running two miles = good idea, as I almost passed out at the gym and ended up having to go home before doing any kind of weight training stuff because I was too weak to move. Whoops. I really cannot understand how I did the eating disorder thing in high school because sheesh. As it is, I must be doing something right with this whole exercising/eating better thing because I'm down to 113 from 121. Only three more lbs till I meet my goal. And I managed to actually run a mile before feeling my lungs start to collapse, forcing me to go back to a fast walk. Go me. I'm getting stronger, or something. Whatever it is I'm doing, it must be working/worth it because there was a few comments made last night about how I have a "nice body". Ha.

I want to go dancing. Like, real dancing. Like ballroom dancing. I want to wear a long red dress with a slit cut up the side and strappy heels and be spun around the dance floor. Anyone wanna take ballroom dancing lessons with me?

Last night I had a date.

There's this guy, Harry, who comes into town quite often for buisness (he lives around Philly), and spends his dinner hour in the Pei of Tai. He and I have gone out for drinks a few times after my shift (which I might have mentioned in here, before), but last night had proper sit down dinner time which turned into heading to his hotel for a movie time, which turned into interesting kissing time, which turned into watching Daily Show time.

We're supposed to do something again, tomorrow (he's in town for a whole week this time around. Amazing), but I'm not really sure what I want to do about this all. I don't really know if I want to get involved with someone who lives on the other side of the state. I dig him--he's attractive and intelligent and we have interesting conversations (even if he is a conservative republican), but I'm just...not sure.

I have people telling me to just "go out, date, have fun" and that I "don't have to just pick one person" and that I shouldn't be looking to "settle down", but the thing is that I don't see the point in dating someone if there's no idea of a future in it. I can't just go out and see more than one person at a time. It's not really fair or honest to anyone involved, and, in my mind, is rather slutty because with dating comes physicality and I'm not the type of girl who sleeps with more than one person at a time. It's just...wrong.

I don't know. Every time I've heard "go out and have fun", that normally equals out to "go out and get plastered and make out with/fuck as many people as you can in a night". Or something to that affect.

Either way...

Man, I don't know either way.

I really forgot how this all works. If I ever knew to begin with. Fuck being so damned socially awkward. Why can't I be one of the cool kids who just doesn't care?