Cop to It, Girl

Jumpy, restless, antsy, unsettled.

It's shocking the degree to which I can pretend to myself that I don't care about someone, that it makes no difference to me how a particular situation (job, boyfriend, whatever) works out. I am such a fricking liar sometimes.

The fact that I rarely lie to anyone but me doesn't really seem to mitigate matters.

The other day I was having a dandy time flirting my proverbial arse off with a group of men, and remembering that hey, I used to have a bit of a crush on that one, and I'd completely forgotten about his existence since the last time I randomly ran into him. And I thought, oh it's fine if the current guy is no longer into me (it's unclear); I'm halfway over it already.

Which is, apparently, bullshit. Know why?

'Cause I like him. He's too young, I'm too old, whatever, but there's something about him that I just jell with. He feels good to me, and I am not (only) talking about the sex bit (which definitely feels good). I like being with him. I like riding bikes with him. I like sitting on a park bench smooching him like crazy.

He's like an animal, or a tree, or a stream - I feel calmer when he's around, and more like I like my life here. He's sweet, and funny, and delightfully dirtily playful.

And while I'm admitting to being a human being, with feelings and all, I miss him. I miss all those aspects of being with him. He was the first person I told when an exciting thing happened in my professional life a few weeks ago, and maybe that was not an accident. I knew he'd appreciate it, I knew he'd really be happy for me.

So there it is, the truth. I care what happens. I'd rather he kept being interested in me. I'd rather not have to get over this one just yet.