Unfortunately, I’m sure you all read Gizzy’s bad news by now. I didn’t know whether I should address it or not, because it’s her thing, but I am her friend and blog-mate, so it’s on my mind.
Truthfully, I was questioning the direction of this blog, especially things like the tag line, because I was emotionally preparing myself for her engagement (much like I am prepping for John Mayer’s engagement/wedding to Ms. Perry).
But, in an unlikely event, the curse hit and she’s single again.
Since I am still single, and destined to remain so, I cannot sit here and understand why that is—other than, he just wasn’t right.
I haven’t mentioned many details about the crazy mess that my “dating” life is at the moment, probably because I try to push it into the darkest corner of my mind where it’s locked up and never to be found again.
A few weeks ago, I received a text from a number I didn’t recognize. Upon reading the text, it was from none other than Jesus Belt. Despite leaving on the semi-weird-angry way we left things, I was really happy to see a message from him. After getting the hellos out of the way…
“Took a bad fall and have a giant thundercloud black bruise on my back and ass. On painkillers, which have given me odd dreams, one featured you in a stunning red gown hanging out in a mostly burned-out building.”
He certainly has a way with words, right?
ME: So how come you’re not married yet?
JB: Have no intentions or ambitions for the stuff. You?
ME: I used to really want to…but am letting it fade.
JB: I’m surprised you’re single. You’re kind of a total package.
ME: Thank you.
JB: It’s a fairly objective observation. You’re creative, funny, smart, and attractive. Your pool must just be a little shallow.
Perhaps you recall my “mini 10-year reunion” with Brandon in early December? In the weeks following our visit/sexcapade, our relationship changed quite a bit. Prior to sleeping together, it was more of a friendship with subtle flirtation… which ultimately changed to more flirting with a subtle friendship.
Not complaining there.
The thing is, Brandon is one of these guys that’s just so cool. I know “cool” is a relative term, one that he hates me saying, but that’s the only way I can think to describe him. He tours with a popular rock band, he’s got a very individual sense of style, he only does what he wants, whenever he wants to do it, and he’s got an accent fit for New England. It works.
So, when this guy sends me stuff like this:
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we hung out.
Snowed last night, not much, but enough for me to want to be inside with you.
I am left in utter shock that this dude might actually kind of like me, or as Boots says, my vagina has magical powers. Please, don’t think about it.
After many texts, calls, and even serious talks about the unwanted distance (which we agree, sucks), things have started to revert back to how they were pre-visit. This is where I have mixed feelings. While I never expected anything to change post-sex, when they did, it still burns when it’s taken away.
We do still talk, it’s just different, and who knows why that is. When it comes to matters of men, it’s safe to say I’m clueless.
[Editor’s note: about 10 minutes after writing this post, I received a text from Brandon saying he has a date tonight.]