So this thing I’ve been imagining for a month finally turned into an actual date on Saturday night, and it did not go as I’d hoped. I left feeling like I’d fallen down the stairs while trying to hold onto my heart (and dropped it through a grate at the bottom). So I spent yesterday feeling sorry for myself, and pretty down on myself for managing somehow to go in the course of an evening from being someone this guy thought he might like to being someone he didn’t. Or “might, later”, which is essentially the same thing, because it doesn’t ever work like that in reality. Attraction is a binary thing in my experience. Only on sitcoms that have run too long do people later discover that they’ve always loved someone.
Geez, what happened to my rule about not talking about this stuff on here? Ehh, I need the catharsis. (Will anagnorisis follow?)
Today, though, I find myself feeling a lot better. It helps to have such good, supportive friends — who pick me up and brush me off time and again. I like that they also don’t resort to name-calling about the other guy, ’cause I still think he’s great, and that kind of sour grapes never works anyway.
It also helps that I figured out the plot of the book and got a big fat pay rise last week!
I’ve managed to recycle romantic discouragement into lots and lots of written pages in the past: even negative energy is still energy to use. I missed my writing session yesterday, though, ’cause I just couldn’t muster up the spirit to do anything but lie in bed, and watch Thelma and Louise with Patrick over dinner. (Note: this movie is hard drugs to the mind of someone who’s just been unlucky in love. Happily, I don’t have a driver’s license and am nowhere near a desert.)
Today, though, I feel worlds better. Maybe it’s ’cause the situation existed so much in my imagination. I just feel kind of stupid for having spent so much mental energy on this. I scorn people whose lives are so predicated on romance that they feel empty and bored without it. But here was me, getting all dreamy, thinking of travel and domesticity and… And I suppose it says good things about me that I can still care.
Maybe someday. In the meantime, I have a world to destroy. Chapter One is not far off.
