Last Friday

I hooked up with a guy from my uni. Not all-the-way hooked up, but pretty damn close. Pretty much all-the-way hooked up, except that it wasn’t. If that makes any sense 🙂 Closest I’ve come… And I had fun, but I made pretty damn sure he knew that it was just that – fun. And when I got back home, I felt so relaxed, and so in control, and just so…good.

And life moved on.

I actually found myself praying that he wouldn’t call or text because all I was gonna do anyway was turn him down and reiterate the fact that it was nothing serious. 

SATURDAY – went out. Had such a good time… *sigh* 🙂 Alcohol, dancing, amazing music, company that the gods would kill to have…i mean, what more could anyone want??

SUNDAY – recovered all day. WHY does my body hurt so damn much?!?

MONDAY – got up with a generally hate-filled heart and went to class. Who created stupid mondays anyway?? Ugh. Made it through the day, but just barely.

All this time I’m still feeling cool and sexy and, like I said, in control.

TUESDAY – wow. He’s REALLY not gonna call? Oh well, whatever, better off this way anyway…

WEDNESDAY – oh for fuck’s sake, seriously?! Shouldn’t he at least fucking check up on me? I mean, what if I fucking got lost on the way home or something? What if I’m lying dead in a fucking ditch right now and no one knows? Did he not enjoy himself??? Do I not generally make guys wanna come back for more? Is he fucking for real?!

I never curse. Uh oh.

Why do I always do this? Why do I pretend to myself that I’m so much bigger than all the girls who sit around waiting on the phone to ring? Why do I think I’m so self-actualized; so independent that I can be in control of all my generally pathetic feelings?

Why oh why do I think I’m immune??

Immune to falling…immune to being stupid-in-love…immune to heartbreak…?

Not in this case, of course – that would be a little retarded. But it served as a reminder. I still need to be careful with my heart. I am the rule, NOT the exception to the rule.

And it’s very fucking scary.