..

For real this time.

I have this person in my life that floats in and out from time to time.

Sometimes I think it is more a figment of my imagination than a real thinking feeling breathing flesh and bones person.

That Cure song: I’ve been living so long with my pictures of you that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel.

Maybe sort of an el nino type thing.

Comes about randomly every once and a while. Wreaks havoc for a little bit and vanishes without a trace.


........

Except for the graffiti left on my body and in my mind.

Crazy indecipherable messages that mean nothing to anyone but the artist and in this case, the canvas.

What happens when you suddenly want the long distance fb to become the long distance bf? is this really what you want?

Are you really madly in love with this person or is this some illusion carried over from childhood memories

Can 10 years of Fbdom translate into a lifetime of happiness?


...

This past weekend an on again off again friendship/hookup/addiction of mine blew into town for the big birthday oyster roast festivities. (Please see the last time i was home, when this and this happened, followed by This..) Hours of eating oysters and drinking beer go fabulously with late night escapades on a boat on the intracoastal waterway.

Undulating with the motion of the water

And of course: the ebb and flow of my emotional wellbeing.

At this point, I was still in the safety zone however. This was all expected. This I could handle.


..


There were the usual goodbyes. See you whenever. We always do.

Then a funny thing happened.

In a random happening, the long distance fb curfew was extended and with that, the boundaries were expanded.

There were out of the way gestures made. to the tune of driving extra hours and hundreds of miles to get me there.

Roaroraoroaroaoroaor (recounting this makes me feel ridiculous)

So, Sunday night oyster roast part 2 happened and it was glorious. I took 4 of my closest friends to my oldest stomping ground and got them all wasted. Unfortunately seemingly endless amounts of booze don’t mingle well with intense emotional undertones.

And the night was laden with them.

So of course: in wasted k-styles fashion, I opened my mouth and the ugly exaggerated truths came flying out.

Verbal diarrhea it’s called.

Oh yes. It’s bad.




Basically a DTR (determining the relationship—gag) ensued. only wasted and including such popular lines as “I’ve basically been in love with you for years.” Or something to that effect. How the hell should I know

So, like the true mellow, free-spirited, fabulous person that he is, he fucking rolls with it.

Goddammit

Pushes through this web of drama that I am hurling at him and acts totally cool about it. And still wants to kiss on the mouth.

All of this. Followed by equally as awkward larry-david-style moments today when he brings it back up and I simply say “I don’t want to talk about it.”

We parted in a good way.

I guess.

Or as good as it possibly could be considering.

i hate sharing my name

I’m a little pissed. But I am also emotionally spent. And am wishing for my new-york-style-my-life-is-devoid-of-emotions ways to come back.

I’m so tired.