I met Martine. I’d wrote him a long, long letter last night for no other reason then because I felt like writing a long, long letter to him. It was pointless of course. I’ve written so many blasted love letters all my life, but never sent them out. The problem with these bloody things is that they’re normally written under certain assumptions or impressions. And while you’re writing them, I don’t know about other people, but I tend to get so much into it I end up writing things I’m not completely sure about. And M is beyond cynical about love, sure as hell he’ll know I’m just being sappy for the sake of being sappy.
So eventually I decided to draw him a card and stick a short note behind it. Basically, I miss you, and I cannot stop thinking about you. I told him today that whenever I’m with another girl, I wish he was there, when I’m sleeping with someone else (especially when I’m not drunk) I’d rather I was sleeping with him. Sure, Greg was lovely, so are like, all of the rest of them, and I’m very fond of them, but there are people who you know are transitory, and people you really, greatly desire.
When I look at M, I don’t see cute or pleasant looking, or whatever. I see someone I want to spend all day in bed with, someone that turns me on instantly, someone that… oh he kissed me in public and that made me feel so good.
I am crazy. Completely insensibly crazy over him. But he says I’m too young. The goddamned mother fucker. I want to be with him all the time, all bloody day long (well, allright, not that much, but certainly regularly enough). Sadly, I doubt he feels the same way. Liking me a great deal is one thing; but he’s certainly not dying to be with me. I told him I really was desperate, but I try my best to act otherwise.
Him, ‘We’ll see each other soon okay.’
Me, ‘You’ll have to sms me or call. Please. Don’t you dare make me look desperate. One more time I’m rejected… It’s just very bad for my health.’
Him, ‘For heaven’s sake, you aren’t desperate.’
Me, ‘Yes I am. I’m a very good actress.’
Him, ‘You’re crazy! And the poems you sent me. Why the hell did you say they weren’t for me?’
Me, ‘You read the bloody email I told you not to read!’
Him, ‘Yeah of course I did.’
Me, ‘And you didn’t email me back. And you blame me for being out of contact.’
Him, ‘…’
Him, ‘Why should it have mattered if I read that email or not. I loved the poems.’
Me, ‘No it doesn’t matter, who said it mattered.’
Him, ‘You!’
Me, ‘Now that you’ve read it and liked them, it doesn’t.’
Oh lord, my stomach totally sucks. I’ve no idea what I ate last night. Mr. Big asked me if I was anywhere around his place last night when S had been driving me around. It’d been a long time since I’d see him, and he’d been messaging me a little bit more then often lately, so I thought maybe it was time to say hi. I missed his teddy.
Believe it or not, we’ve now known each other for 2 years. Scary huh, how time really flies. 2 bloody years. So much has changed since. He’s still the same sort of guy I remember him to be, and will probably always be the same, as I’ll probably be the same for a long, long time. Which is good, because he was quite nice from the start anyway. But I think I can understand him better now. I’m definitely no longer insecure around him, which is great, because I was insecure a lot when I first started dating him. It was nice cuddling up and thinking about what a damn bloody long time it’s been. And everything in his place is still the same, ‘cept a whole lot messier. Ah well.
xoxox
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