swallowing the tadpole

Adding to my last entry: There is a fine line between assertive and needy. I don’t know for sure, but I think I am skirting that line. It’s funny, I partially wrote that entry for S, and now when I think of her reading it I cringe. Laura thinks I was definitely being overly melodramatic.

I didn’t unicycle in the parade this afternoon as I had intended to. As an aside, you should really check out this picture of my sister’s new tattoo that I posted to my moblog. It’s a pink iguana with wings, riding on a unicycle. It’s not as blurry as the photo turned out, in fact, it’s super detailed and (I think) pretty cool (at least, cooler than I thought it was going to be from the description I heard). This guy Poohki who is a friend of my brother’s did it, and I think he did a great job.

I’m midway through Richard Morgan’s novel Market Forces and so far it’s pretty good. Damn depressing idea of a future, but also pretty good. I’m going to get back to it now.


Ahh, the chosen few, the loyalists, the stragglers who will read this days or even weeks after I write it… my audience. You either know me well, or you don’t, and I can’t fault you for either.

Perhaps it is time for a bit of the juicy… a bit of the old nasty, a bit of the new nasty. Perhaps it is time I lay it on thick, a layer of too-personal rumination the likes of which this blog has not seen in entirely far too long now.

Where to begin?

I am addicted to OK Cupid and that is S’s fault. S is someone I met a few times at a friend’s various and sultry parties, the most notable time being the one where she spent the evening bare breasted, and culminating (a few weeks ago) in the time where she sat on my lap while I answered quizzes from okcupid until we were both far more sober than we’d expected to be at that particular party.

S and I are now dating.

This is the pinnacle of the roller coaster that is my life. I couldn’t feel more exhilarated about someone. She captures the songbird of my imagination and then sets it loose upon the unsuspecting landscape of my emotion. I don’t even know what this means, but she does it without trying.

And of course there is an emotional cost. As I find myself growing more attached to S, I grow proportionately more aware of the precarious (pernicious?) nature of our relationship, and thus the coffers of my sanity are emptied as I fling coins of myself into the fountain of my own numbskull worry–making pointless wishes about an uncertain future.

What is this agony that keeps me awake at night? Probably it’s just been so long since I’ve dated anyone that I hardly recognize the gut-quivering feeling of just not knowing — what the other person is thinking, planning, intending, when I’ll see them next, or how it will be when I do. S has made some of her lack of intentions clear, (just having gotten out of a relatively important relationship she is very clearly rebounding) and I am certainly not in any position to argue. (Of course how hypocritical if I did; surely my situation with Laura makes things a bit unbalanced in that regard.)

Laura, by the way, has been incredibly supportive and accommodating. I hesitate to say it, but I truly think we’ve reached a new level in our relationship, one where jealousy and petty agitations can take the back seat they deserve. No doubt it helps that she is taking more advantage of the particulars of our arrangement than she has in the past as well.

Writing things down like this helps me sort the thoughts rattling bars in the cages of my brain. Maybe I can find some sleep now that I have the dawn to accompany me.