Untangible and problematic.

I’m completely incapable of writing down everything I feel at this moment, so I won’t. I get a bloody headache every time I think about anything that concerns my love/sex life at all, so I’ve decided to simply not think about it. Not too much anyway.

But I’ve discovered a few things. That people normally take other people more seriously then I do, and that just about everyone I’ve dated in the past few months has taken me more seriously then I will dare acknowledge to myself. It is a great big fuck up in the world, but people are fucked up like that. There are so many other girls out there who will give up everything for them, and they have to pick me. I will give what I feel like, and like I said, am an extremely volatile emotional investment. But they’ve decided to pick me instead. I’ve a feeling it’s precisely because of that. I’m just more fun.

I finally broke and sent Martine a text. He replied very promptly. I said I missed him, and he retorted, if I did, where had I been the last month? (Then he added a take it easy, okay) I told him I’d been too fucking proud to say anything, and bet he was too, because as far as I knew, I didn’t receive any word from him either. Then I realized I’d told him I left the country without a fixed return date when I did leave the country, but with a fixed return date. But I still don’t understand why he didn’t even try. But all that’s inconsequential now, I broke and made the first move. And I’m glad I did. He said he wasn’t too proud, he just thought the whole fiasco with him between Liz and myself was very unhappy and unhealthy. But of course I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t have known how She would have felt, could I? He didn’t tell me anything.

I don't know why I keep thinking about him. I want him so much I could die. I really hate him, or at least I try, and I had a very sad, pathetic dream about him last night where he played a coward in the Kingdom of Heaven, in which I was trying to kill people with a blunt spear. And I woke up this morning and thought it was time to hopefully clear things up and make things easier so he can call me when he wants to, because I would really like it.

And men and women are infinitely different. Women will get back and cry and beg and accuse almost immediately and do so continuously. I think men just put down the phone and sit on it for a long time, years even; then maybe one day, when they decide they really want the person back, they call.

We are having lunch tomorrow. If he cancels out on me, I will be very disappointed if he didn’t have a bloody good reason. I stick to my appointments, always, and I think everyone else should too. (Just like I normally keep my promises, and think every one else should too. But it’ll take a lot more promise keeping from myself to make me believe that I still can.)

Greg’s written me a couple of times, letters, a poem and a few sms-es. I just don’t know what to do. I wish people would stop thinking I’m sad, because I really am not. I’m very sad when I think about my situation with him and slightly sad when I think about how things have gone with Martine, but the thing is, I don’t think about them all that much, and certainly not all day. I’ve got better things to do.

But people are weird. They get really annoyed when they’re sad and they hope the other person feels it too, so I always end up trying to feel what they feel, and when I tell them oh I’ve made myself sad now, I hope your happy, they tell me to fucking just be happy and can I not be sad. And in Martine’s case, it’s even weirder, because he generally just assumes I’m sad, even though I’m pretty darned sure I give him not cause to think that whenever I go out with him.

I’m extremely confused. Everything is hopeless, and we are all fucked. Great.

I’m going to stuff my face with almond croissants from Canele’s, you know, the pastissier (is that how you call the people that make pastries in some fancy pants foreign language…) in that little courtyard somewhere along Mohammed Sultan. I’ve a terrible weakness for good almond croissants, and I get really mad when I’m given a bad one. They’re so simple to make, how can anyone possibly fuck it up?

Then I am going to stay in the pool for several hours and go for a jog for even longer and hope I don’t have to make any stupid decision concerning any stupid thing as un-tangible but yet so darned problematic, like love.

xoxox