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I could do worse.

Lord knows I really want to rant right now; I've been angrier, sure, and I've felt more hurt, but the temptation is there to tear into this guy. But I'm supposed to be a grown up. He's supposed to be my friend--and I do care about that. I'm not supposed to even be taking these things so seriously anymore. So why the fuck am I?

So I was dating a guy recently; we had four dates. I thought we were really starting to click. I'll admit it--I'd even begun to like the guy. Not quite like-like him, but there was a definite fondness growing. As I was learning more about him, I was liking what I learned more and more. We seemed to have chemistry, too.

It was pretty nice how I could talk about smart stuff with him without either a) feeling like I was supposed to be talking down to him or b) feeling like he had to challenge me to a contest of who was the smartest fuck in the room. It was natural, intelligent, fun conversation. And that was really cool.

I was definitely liking the whole getting-to-know-him process. 'At the least,', I felt, 'this bodes well for getting to know other guys. It's not so bad, I'm not so vulnerable, I'm having fun.'

Then he emails me saying he thinks he's too crazy for me, that I need someone more stable? or stuff? So I reply that that's total bullshit but personally I'm willing to respect that or continue dating and seeing how we fare, as friends or more or less, from there. He replies to that "clarifying" that he met someone over President's Day weekend, and that though he'd only just met him (?), they'd decided to commit to a serious go of it. Which he can't do "if there are other guys floating around".

I'm not exactly sure why I'm mad. Understandably, a bit hurt I guess. But mad? and this hurt?

For one, I prolly let myself get too hopeful. That's pretty typical of me. For two, maybe I shouldn't have liked him as much as I did, however apparently innocent it had seemed? For three, I should probably learn to expect stuff not to work out more while still somehow remaining optimistic. That doesn't sound bitter at all.

Grr. I think this is another instance of me feeling frustrated that I feel frustrated at all. I mean, I guess I'm happy he found someone that did get him excited and hopeful and stuff (bitter, much?), and frankly I had a good time with him while I did. Plus, I don't see how any of this prevents us from being great friends--it's not like our hangouts were contingent upon any kind of hot steamy sex or intimate whisperings. The best parts were as much the long, intelligent chats as any time spent snuggled or flirting.

Sigh. Goddamn my head, y'know? I want to be normal so badly; to be as happy or at least as free as ny other faggot out there. All those boys who can drop in at a bar, chat with a guy, and be boyfriending it up within a week or two. Or just be able to explore these kindsa relationships--friendly, sexual, intimate, or otherwise--without all this damn baggage making me look so goddamn maladjusted.

But that's probably a point, too. That I tried, went somewhere a bit out of my comfort zone, was surprised how well it was working, and feel jipped that it still didn't work out. That my hidden pockets of cynicism and pessimism were right. That vulnerabilities I've always mocked myself for still leave me wide open when the call comes down the line.

(Did I just steal a line from a song by The Killers? Why??)

I'll get over it. I still respect him and hope to continue being friends and I do, I know it, wish him and his guy friend the best. It's just hard to make you all believe that anymore than I do right now. Oh well, let's just go ahead and burn all my bridges and sink all my battleships. It's just one of those nights.


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