I'm more alone when I am with him than when I am not. he's going through this thing, this big thing in his life, and he can't talk about it. won't talk about it. says its private. I have to respect that. but still, it makes me lonely. it makes me unable to talk about the things that are bothering me, which are so much less. it makes me feel inadequate, for how can someone go through this and not need to talk about it. he must, he just doesn't need it from me. so we just go on (I go on) talking about fake things, and pretending its all fine. I guess all this independence just readies each of us for leaving the other. but part of me would rather it end with a bang. like it meant something.

he used to tell me that he couldn't sleep at night, he wanted so badly to fuck me. now its never about fucking me. he touches much of my body like he almost thinks I'm beautiful. but he never says that. and he never touches the parts that count with anything close to enthusiasm. he never says more than he likes the way my ass looks in a certain pair of underwear. after two years, I want him to like more than that.

he thought it was amusing, the other day, when one of my (high maintenence but fabulous) friends said he should tell me I look beautiful, as I walked by on my way out from the gym, hot and sweaty and nowhere close to attractive. he knew that a compliment such as that would only make me uncomfortable. and unbelieving. and he was right. but even if I were to be unbelieving, I wish he would still say it, every now and then.

I’ve decided to revive the blog, but delete all past entries in the hopes of a fresh(er) start. I’m sure there will still be plenty of references to people/places/situations of old (there’s even some in this first entry) but…. I feel like something of a new beginning and a move away from the blogger of old. today's thoughts are pretty random.

I’m sitting in my office today, which happens to back up to my advisor’s office in such a way that I can hear much of what goes on although in general we seem to rarely cross paths. He has an undergrad student working for him, doing a job I originally did, albeit with little enthusiasm and perhaps even less dedication (though to my credit, he never really pressed me on it). Anyway, I’m sitting here today, kinda having a low day generally, and I hear him tell this undergrad what a great job she is doing, and how he wishes she could stay on longer. He has never had such kind words for me (which I have somewhat attributed to his personality in the past), or given me such praise. Somehow overhearing this exchange just makes me want to climb under my desk and go to sleep. I don’t think I am ever going to get out from under this mountain of work and done with my dissertation, and right now I feel too tired to even try. Three more hours until happy hour and another drink I shouldn’t really need.

Went to happy hour with my ex on Wed. so far I haven’t mentioned this to anyone, maybe because I really don’t know how to explain, even to myself, why I did this. Or why I have been talking to him, in a very casual, every-few-months sort of way, on the phone for almost the past year. Although I’ve gotten the maturity to realize that our breakup was precipitated as much by me as by him (which doesn’t mean I wanted it, just that I realize that I contributed equally to its demise), he caused me so much pain. More than I’ve ever felt from anyone. And much of it was unnecessary – he could have broken up with me in a much kinder way, and I thought that I wouldn’t be able to forgive him for that part in any case. But now somehow I have, at least enough to have a couple of drinks with him. And in part it felt good. Easier than I thought it would be. More fun than I thought it would be. Yes – I felt a few pangs here and there of wanting him back. Though I think I felt many more pangs for just wishing that he would want me back. Which I don’t think he did. But he is no longer with Her anymore, and if I read the signs correctly She turned out to not be someone he looks back on fondly, so….. maybe the visit was worthwhile just to put that to rest in my mind. For I have always thought I could be happy for him, even if he is with someone else, as long as it wasn’t Her.

So in the end I guess it went ok. But despite my best intentions, I can tell the encounter left me wanting something more. not a relationship with him, but ..... something. Some confirmation that he missed me a little, and that he enjoyed hanging out with me, and that I am going to eventually hear from him again. That this wasn’t just some he’s-curious-how-I-look-three-years-down-the-road sort of thing. Or that he was planning on making a play for me but I didn’t look hot enough or I was too chatty or …. Whatever. I guess I am just being that typical girl, wanting to know what it all means. When likely it means very little or at least not at all what I would want it to, and is better left alone.

He tried to hug me, when we were leaving. I kinda avoided it; I’m not sure why. I wish I hadn’t. maybe it was a peace offering of sorts and I more or less rejected it. I just wasn’t quite ready for him to be in my physical space. That being said, if he had wanted to fuck, I probably would have considered it. Lets hope I wouldn’t have done it, but I’m pretty sure I would have at least paused.

I cried for a long time, in the car, when I got back to my place. We were only out for a couple of hours (which, in retrospect, was a little depressing – three years go by and we only hang out for a couple of hours????), so my initial instinct was to divert myself from overanalysis and have another drink (which I didn’t need) with my friends, who were out at another happy hour. But they were apparently leaving as I called, which left me feeling super-alone and deserted, even though none of them had any idea about how I had just spent the past couple of hours. So I sat in my car in my parking lot and cried. A lot.