I have a strong feeling that He is going to get married. Not tomorrow, not this month but eventually He will and I will not be the bride in this scenario. I would be lying if I didn't admit that part of me wishes that I would be. I would be a fool to deny that I'm still hurting over this whole thing, even after six months and a few short failed dating experiences. Honestly though, a bigger part of me is stronger than that.

The truth is that He didn't love me enough. Why would any woman want to be in a relationship with a man that didn't love her the way that she deserved to be loved? It would be suicide. He didn't love me, so he left me. The trouble of it was that I was so completely unaware of this at the time that when it happened it threw me. I was in love. I was, for the first time in my life really, ready for love to take complete hold over me and to let myself become someone elses. He's mine, she's yours, we belong to each other- that kind of thing. I was there. He wasn't. Now he's with this other lady and I can't say that they feel that bond with one another, though my suspicion is that they do, but whatever they feel for each other has nothing anymore to do with me and that's ok. I can say that now. That's ok.

I do miss Him. I've been trying to establish whether or not I miss Him romantically or I miss the best friend he was to me for six years. For some time I'm sure it was the romantic side- especially with all the lousy sexual experiences I've had since him. Our sex life was lacking, I can admit that now but it was never bad. It just wasn't frequent and I'm sure that had something to do with our current lack of relationship but no matter, what's done is done. I'm not going to drag myself through anymore pointless "I could have been better" thoughts. I am who I am, blah blah blah... I miss my friend though. There will always be an element of love attached to my feelings and thoughts of Him, but I feel that I can safely say that they are healthy and honest and nothing to be ashamed of and in no way hinting toward anything desired. Just because He doesn't love me, doesn't mean he's not deserving of love and I hope that He has/will find it.

I jump back and forth on a daily basis about whether I feel hopeful that I will ever find true love again. On the negative side, if I were one to believe that there is only one great love for everyone than I'm inclined to think that as far as love is concerned, I'm done. There will never be another for me like Him. He was my match in every way. He defines my type, physically and intellectually. We had more than enough similar interests as well as our own that allowed us to not be male/female clones of one another. I liked that. The question is, if I stand on this side of the fence: Can I spend the rest of my life content that the great love of my life is gone and there shall never be another? I don't think that I can. I'm too young to cash in my chips.

The other half of this argument is the positive side, the hopeful side. I like the hopeful side. This part of me recognizes the value of the times that we shared but knows, or believes rather, that there is something else in life waiting for me- or waiting for me to find it. The hopeful side of me daydreams about blowing away my expectations of what love has left for me and leaves me looking forward to another wonderful heart fluttering love affair that will carry my life to the end. The only flaw in this is that it might not be true. It might never happen and then that would mean that the opposing viewpoints would be the true ones which would mean a life of being single and settling for casual sex.

I'm tired of experimenting with casual sex. Honestly, I don't think I'm ready for it (even though I've been practicing it) and am planning on not participating in that game anymore- not that this currently has any effect on my life considering I'm not dating anyone right now. I'm in now way vowing chastity, but I am starting to believe that the only way I'll find a relationship that will last beyond the basis of sexual lust is to cut it out of the picture, for a while. No more jumping into bed with some sleazy guy I meet (where ever) on a whim. That is probably the healthiest life decision I've made in a while. My therapist, if I was still seeing her, would be proud.

I wish I had more of a clue but I suppose I need to learn to realize that life isn't as easy as it was when I was eighteen years old. Honestly, I almost hate the idea that my future husband could be a man that I met on the Internet. It lacks so much, classically romantically speaking. And, damn it, I may not always appear as the "girliest girl" on the planet but deep down it's true. I'm an artist and (on my better days) a writer and I can't help but ponder twenty or so odd years from now writing some sort of autobiography and saying how I met the man I married off of OkCupid and that we bonded over Internet quizzes about Which Comic Book Villain each of us were more inclined to be like and it sickens me. It's not good enough for me. It feels like settling. I'm tired of settling. I won't settle for a man who doesn't love me enough and I'll be damned if I settle for scouting true love off self imposed Internet profiling systems.

I'm tired of this modern age. I wish the world could revert back to less complicated days before the World Wide Web where people would meet face to face and write lovely hand written (or typed I suppose) letters to one another. Telephones can be agreeable- but this instant messaging and forcing words onto pages to advertise your coolness and worth as a sexual/love candidate... well it sucks. Most of the time I think that I'm the only one who thinks this way. Internet dating feels like cheating life. Why bother going out and meeting new people face to face when you can just click on a picture and find out the flash card personality facts. I'm not the type of girl who can be wooed virtually and I never will be.

Sadly this seems to be the way of the world these days and though not thrilled with the Internet dating world, I can't not attempt it. (yay double negatives) I still hold fast to the idea that I will meet the man I will end up with in a chance encounter that won't involve anything computerized. I won't delude myself with clinging to the hopes that it will be anything Shakespearean or worthy of a Lifetime Television afternoon movie, but it will be real and more suiting to me than the fact that I'm more Mystique while he was Cyclops. What do those things really mean anyway? Trite crap inspired by quizzes written by who knows, probably out of boredom or to make their Internet profile 84% complete. It is no where near romance and definitely has nothing to do with love. I want a man who has more courage than what it takes to type out a sentence or two, usually commenting on how I play video games and asking me what genres I gravitate towards, to get my attention. I want a man to walk across a room to introduce himself to me. Buy me a drink. Ask me my name and tell me I look pretty. Is that too much to ask? Apparently...

I'm not usually one to be approached at the local bars, coffee houses or... anywhere really. I'm not exactly sure why, either. The Internet men seem to think I'm attractive enough- or so I've been told, so it leaves me wondering if they're lying or if men have just lost all faith in approaching real life women. I hope that isn't true, sincerely. It would mean all sorts of sad things for the romantics left struggling in society today. Feel free to call me naive but I will remain clinging with my blind hopeless hope that life still has some surprises left for me. Only time will tell.

Blue October

Genesis

If you care to suffer through at most minute of each of these maybe you can tell me what you notice.

More on this later...

I went to a new doctor today. I was not unsatisfied overall but there was a lot to be desired about the experience. I swear that somehow, deep down, doctors must find it a bit amusing to leave someone sitting in a room alone for extended periods of time wearing paper clothing. Today I sat in a paper shirt for more than 20 minutes before the doctor actually came in. I tried to entertain myself, skimming over the awful women's magazines left there and staring intently at the Van Gogh print hanging on the wall. After the first 10 minutes I almost actually fell asleep... The overall appointment strangled an hour or so away from my existence (with a combined total of maybe 20 minutes of patient/doctor interaction).

I ruled at cards last night. We played Three's and I think I won 5 games in a row. It was painful how awesome I was.

I think I'm going to cut and dye my hair again. Any thoughts?

It's 6am and I find myself sitting awake, wearing an old prom dress with my hair pinned up sloppy (but with potential) wondering why I'm still alive. This has to be a dream right?

I've spent too many hours of my life in this odd limbo that lies somewhere between living and sleeping, feeling listless and basically like a zombie - only with a pulse. Lately I've grown addicted to anything that reminds me that I have a heart beating in my chest- reminding me that I am actually alive. I never notice that, in all my nightmares: my heart beat. I suppose that goes along with people who are corney enough to ask to be pinched in moments of wonderment. I happen to be among those who actually believe that you can be hurt in your dreams, by your dreams. Some nights I wake up scratched or bruised, sweating and crying. Of course I do all of this to myself...

Sometimes I wish I could sleep forever, until I remember that within the boundaries of my mind, my imagination, I'm an evil bitch. I have to wonder though, is it really worse than living in this reality? Call me selfish.

My brain hasn't been working very well these past few days and to be honest it is scaring the crap out of me. I know my own patterns and if my intuition is correct I'm a few days away from becoming an obssessive compulsive shut in. I suppose I'll wait and see. I do so love to be right. No one ever really listens to me...

My sleep schedule is impossibly fucked up. I'm tired of it. And I'm bored. The suburbs are boring. I realize that this thought isn't anything new and not in any way productive or worth mentioning but damn it, it's true.

For the record I still have a healthy vision of where I'd like to be in the (hopefully more near than distant) future and despite the fact that more than one person has called me extremely self destructive and horribly unmotivated lately... ehem... At least I know that I'm not hopeless. It's been a while since I've allowed myself to look forward to the future and I admit that for a long time I was wallowing and more or less hiding. I know that I'm not out of the woods yet- in fact I have a long way to go but I'll get there. You'll see.

Taking a short stretch break from the stationary bike I noticed a pill bug crawling slowly along the concrete floor of my garage. When he noticed me he curled up, probably scared that I would squish his little tank body. I told him not to worry, that I wouldn't step on him. He looked thirsty so I gave him a little water to crawl toward. Apparently he was because he went right for it. When I finished my daily workout I sat by him and we had in depth discussion on the wonders of surface tension and my little friend decided to go for a swim. I watched him wiggle his little legs side to side as he waded in his own spring water pond and we listened to Pearl Jam together. It was lovely. I hope he's still there tomorrow.

I can't help but take stock every now and then, and lately every time I do (which is often enough to keep me in a constant hidden state of disgust) I realize that things really aren't improving. I'm desperately clinging to something that just doesn't exist anymore.

In the past 6 months...

Lost love.
Nearly doubled the number of sexual partners I've had through casual and unimpressive sex.
Obtained a new car to drive to the job that I don't have.
Written close to nothing worthwhile.
Cleaned out my closet.
Finished one novel.
Resisted marijuana.
Cut down on cigarettes to incredible lows.
Began exercise regime and have been quite good at sticking to it thus far.

Notice what always is first to come to my mind... peculiar... Does it stroke your ego to know that?

So I'm really sick of dating men that leave me constantly questioning sincerity. I have to wonder if my recent male "company" is actually interested in pursuing me, or bedroom relations (**too much information deleted here**). It's not enough for me.

I quit. I'm holding out for heart fluttering passion and feelings beyond lukewarm lust. For the record, these thighs will be closed until perfection walks into my life. I'm sick of settling and feeling used. I want the whole package this time.