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Sunday, June 8th, 2003

    Time Event
    3:37a
    Please shake well to ensure freshness...
    ...or slap around with a car bumper for amusement.

    Vichesse is the only reason I am here again. I didn't honestly think she would be interested at all in my rantings, but I was wrong. This, my dear, is for you and my personal sanity.

    Oh goodness where to begin? Perhaps it is best to finish where I left off.

    I had moved out of the house completely on the 14th. It took a little longer than I expected, but it managed to work itself out. My bed was the only thing left to remove from the house which, of course, was in my roommate's way. I turned in my keys after moving the bed and I still have yet to pay him for the time I spent in the house in May. I really wish I could allow myself to not pay him, but I'll be damned if he will beat me. He also showed up to lunch unexpectedly last week and again to the live-action game. Twice in one day I had to endure that asshole's presence.

    The psycho is gone for good I would be willing to say. I think she is obsessing about some guy in Louisianna now. My friend kicked her out, so she had to move along anyway. Oh, and I have found out that some random guy was spending a bit of time over here after I had moved on. From what information I have, he promised the moon and the stars to get what he wanted. Once he got the sex, it was the last time he ever came over. Tragic? Sure. Hillarious? You betcha.

    Now we come to the hard part: the Ex. She and I kept in touch more and more often as the days moved on. If memory serves me correctly, during the afternoon of the 12th I dropped by her workplace in a moment of desperation. My roommate had come home for lunch and I failed to evade him. Just the thought of him being in the same house after I moved the majority of my stuff made me even angrier than I already was. Because of my bad allergies, even the simplest tasks can cause a sneezing fit or allergic reaction. I was hot, sweating, sneezing, nose running, swelling eyes, itching, and seething with hatred. I had to get out. I drove to her work, endured the stares from her co workers, and asked to speak with her outside for a few moments.

    I asked her to pray for me.

    Yeah. When an independant, vain, and stubborn person like myself asks for this, things are bad. Now don't get me wrong, I think religion is fine. I believe that whatever means a person uses to channel their thoughts is a totally positive thing, even if I don't totally agree with every aspect of it. It was all I could to keep from breaking down crying. Very few times have I felt the icy grip of helplessness, and it had me by the balls. The other days were not that bad. I know that she prayed for me, and I am thankful she did. I needed it, whether I'll admit it or not.

    Law and Order: Criminal Intent is perhaps the greatest show on television. Well, it's pretty damn good considering it is not a cartoon. Anyway, the season finale proved to be fantastic and masochistic at the same time. I have to admit, this was one time where pain and pleasure were one and the same. She invited me over to watch it and I agreed, considering we always watched it together. Little did I know her parents were not home. At that point, I knew what was going to happen before the show even started. During commercials and after the show we fooled around a bit, clothing still intact. Everything still felt the same as it had months ago, only now we had a few weeks worth of frustration coming out in passionate embrace. She nearly orgasmed with a touch, and I, for once, didn't care about parents coming home unexpectedly (which may not sound like a big deal, but it is with me). I was ready for anything, but we both knew too much too quickly would be bad. I left a little while later, reluctantly, and she promised to come over to my temporary apartment in the next few days.

    We were not seeing each other again, but we were not seeing anyone else. I told her about the psycho, and I don't think she was too impressed. However, I think she did find it suprising that I didn't have sex with her. What is the deal with that? I don't just have sex with anyone I meet for fuck's sake! Anyway, we ended up spending 20 hours in bed. It was great. Pain and pleasure once again with no sex. Well, I can assure you there was no physical pain, so you can stop with the fun thoughts. The pain comes from the mind. I knew damn well from the start that it wouldn't work out again. Why? It just wouldn't. She wants me to be in "I love you"-land, while I just bought a house in "I really REALLY care about you"-ville. Because of that simple fact, we decided sex was out of the question, with good reason. "Just hurry up and fall in love with me, so we can do it," she would say half-jokingly. I could only smile outwardly and wince as I was reminded of how I would break her heart for a second time.

    We had sex last week. It was great, as it was every time. The first time in a long time, and the final time, it seems. I got sick later that night with a sore throat and couldn't stay the night. She was not happy, but it was a legitamate excuse. I didn't see her at all over the weekend. I now live in Hartselle, so my time in Huntsville is spurratic and unexpected. Of course, she took this as a sign. At around 7PM on Wednesday night we met at IHOP for a quick bite to eat. I wanted to see her since I hadn't in a few days. Dinner was horrible. Something was bothering her and my weakened state was quite a downer too. She paid for her food (I didn't eat), and we parted ways for the evening.

    My cell phone rang. We met in the mall parking lot. And for the first time ever, I felt true pain.

    I love her like I do any of my friends I am close to, but I am not IN love with her. She didn't want to pressure me, and I wasn't ready for the next step. What hurts the most is that she put so much trust in me, so much love, and only asked for one thing in return. And I couldn't give that to her.

    My fault? Of course not. So why cry about it? Because, thus far, it is my fate.

    Tune in next week, when I jab a fork in my eye to remind myself why emotional pain hurts so much more.

    Later...

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