Valentine’s Day was swell. I spent it with the Poet, bowling, playing pool, eating pizza, and feeding pizza crust to ducks. He is incredibly easy to talk to. A day well spent.
What did y’all do for Valentine’s day? Anything romantic? Did you avoid it altogether? Perhaps you spent it in bed with cookies (which was my alternative).
I tried speaking to Cry-Baby tonight. She’s different. Something’s different. Traveling across the country will do that to a person, I suppose. I don’t think she’ll ever understand how confused she made me. How ass-backwards vulnerable she made me. I wasn’t flaky, I wasn’t indecisive. I was just confused. I felt antagonized for months, to have my world turned to adoration. And then I had to make a decision. And I couldn’t. Because I was still used to feeling antagonized and tolerated. Whatever. I won’t bring it up again. After the initial conversation she just…stopped responding. I think she has her mind set concerning how she sees it all, and I am tired of trying to explain it. I spent months watching her walk away from people, avoid commitment like the plague. So that’s what I expected. As much as she told me differently, I needed something tangible. Which is impossible. And then she left. I just have to get over it.
Ready. Set. Go.
**I feel like I need to explain that Cry-Baby meant something to me. I’ve never liked someone for such an extended period of time. I just needed to know she wouldn’t leave. Which is ironic, because in the end she did anyways. I know I left once as well, and that I hurt her unintentionally. But when I looked at her, I only saw her. Which is rare for me. I always have one foot out of the door. Hence the preoccupation and the fear.**
There is a mixture of emotions around me. The prospect of newness. Refreshing, trip-you-up newness. And the heaviness of history. Cry-Baby, the Artist.
In the land of humor: I was talking to Tao about how I am worried I’ll end up a spinster with a herd of goats (as opposed to a house of cats), and he laughed at me. He told me I had too much life and passion to end up alone. That he could see me at 70 with a young toy on my arm.
I need to find someone who won’t become exhausted by my nature. He said I’d find someone to match my fire. God, I hope so.
I can handle being alone, and right now I’m reveling in the quietness I’m in. But some nights, some moments, I’d like to feel that belly magic of new love.
~ Hannah Morgan