Thursday, April 2, 2009

We looked like giants in the back of my grey sub-compact

(Death Cab for Cutie)

JF called me today. That in itself is actually a pretty common occurrence-- we talk quite often. Today, though, it was a little different. He had been out all day in Bath with his uncle, who was taking his friends and loved ones there to thank them for supporting him through the death of his wife this time last year. So JF was in a very contemplative and emotional mood. He said he'd been thinking about all the people that are most important to him, and that's why he called me, and said that he loved me. The call wasn't all emotional outpouring, though, there was also a fair bit of our usual teasing each other and whatnot (at one point he said that even if a hit man came at me with a kalshnikoff, I'd be able to kick his arse if I was armed with a couple of balloons. [I am a wicked balloon-dueler. I'm also pretty adept with a pair of mittens.]) But then he started talking about me coming to London in May, and what's going to happen between us and whether I thought anything would happen. I told him nothing was going to happen, that we are just friends now, and he said that I couldn't rule anything out. I told him (repeatedly) that I didn't know what was going to happen, but it made me very nervous that he expected something from me. While we were talking and afterwards, he made me sad, but now that I think about our conversation more, it just makes me angry.
Angry that the only attributes he ever really talks about missing to me are my pretty face and my ass, never mentioning anything about my intelligence or humour (that 'u' is intentional.) Angry that he didn't listen to me when I said nothing was going to happen, and that he didn't respect that as my decision. Angry that he still seems to think that our relationship was so la-di-da wonderful, when in reality it wasn't healthy for me in the end and I've told him this so many times. Angry that he had the exact reaction that I had predicted when I mentioned that I was going to meet up with JB ("Oh, so you're going to meet up with [JB] and have sex, then, are you?") Angry that he tried to make me feel guilty because we supposedly never had sex when he was cross-dressing (in actuality we did, but we took off the clothes before we actually got down to business, which was the protocol if I dressed up in a corset or anything, too.) The conversation was like a recap of our relationship: starting light-hearted, loving, and joyful; proceeding into misunderstanding, not listening, and frustration; and ending with no closure (and JB thrown in there as well-- how apt.) Most of all, it makes me really sad that he can't just think of me as a friend that he had a history with.
*deep breath*
I was having such a good and/or productive day, as well.
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On the plus side of the day, my brother asked me to be a witness for him and his girlfriend's civil ceremony, so I'm pretty happy about that. I love that they're just having something little and then a crazy-ass party in Italy to celebrate, rather than the big, white rigmarole that my other brother and his wife made us do (all the while treating my mother like poo. Can you tell I'm bitter?) If there was anyone who would ever make me believe in marriage, it's them (not in a religious sense-- I know a large reason they're doing it is the legal benefits as well as showing commitment to each other.)
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I feel weird now, like I've done something wrong. Like I've cheated with JB again, except this time I actually feel guilty.

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