As salaam alaikum,
And so, it begins...
What begins? There's something about the promise of a relationship that brings out the worst of my neuroticism...it's not just me, I know, but I personally don't like the fact that I'm so neurotic! Ughh...
It's like, I spent almost all Saturday with this dude, body language let me know, okay, this isn't really friendship track, he's interested in me for real. Granted, by the end of Sunday I'd cooled off, into Monday, I was fine...wait, this is still Monday, huh?
...ever since we agreed to hang out, I'm one day ahead at all times. I thought it was Tuesday! Aaahhh...that's better.
Why does it matter what day it is? Because I was counting the days that it's taking him to get back in touch with me.
So I'm forgoing the rules. Like, I was supposed to wait for him to say something back, right? I'm tired of playing those games! He's the one who initiated contact in the first place, and quite well, I might add...maybe he was putting forth an effort, I don't know, maybe I'm in denial and maybe I am really about to go out with a really socially awkward PhD physics student...maybe I'm deluding myself, I don't know...
I mean, I guess this was still only really our first...interaction. I don't want to use the D word. Notice the euphemisms I'm spitting here. Seeing? Going out? Interacting? I'm in denial, once again.
Why? Because I don't want to admit to myself that I'm looking forward to...being with (there's another one) a non-Muslim. Man, I even want to erase that sentence!
But at the same time, I'm...okay, wait, he responded to my text...I'll be right back.
...
:-D
Hahaha, the first emoticon of this journal, as it were!
He asked me to the Palestinian Film Festival. Melt!
Aaaaaaaaaahahahahaha!
I'm such a girl right now.
So yeah, I was going to say...neuroticism. It's like, I was fine all day, but then tonight, I as like, hmm...he's not getting in touch with me, what if something happened and by the end of the night he thought it wasn't worth it to pursue me anymore? What if by going to the gala he saw all of those young Nigerian women and looked at me and thought, ehh, I could do better. What if he thought I was standoffish because [censored]?
(This, after all, is not in my [uncensored] series...)
But, none of that is true, because he asked me to the Palestinian Film Festival! Not a zombie movie, not a shoot-em-up action flick where apparently writers aren't necessary for actual dialogue other than the best string of expletives...but something intellectual.
Can you say, match?
...we have yet to have the religion conversation. I think if things get more serious, though, it will happen. Heh.
But he's cute...and now I get to not be neurotic because he texted me back and we're going to keep hanging out and life is grand, with him in it and independent of him...just, you know, to keep things real.
One artifact of me potentially being involved with someone for the first time (I also refuse to say the R word...really mature of me, I know) is that...for some reason, I'm feeling more at ease to find men attractive.
It's like, the most counter-intuitive and counterproductive thing ever. It's like, uhh, too late now, dude! Like, there was this guy at the gala and he was wearing these pants, like 60s vines, and they are pretty much my favorite pants for a man ever right now, because he, like the late, great Otis Redding, was wearing those pants. This other dude at the gala, good Lord...I was with Obi at the time, or else I would have looked more. Then on Sunday, I was randomly noticing the legs of a bunch of the men running by. I have such a weird, backward psyche!
For so many years, I've effectively repressed my sexuality because I've never had an outlet...as in, I've never liked someone who liked me back, or was man enough to go forward with it, or time and place was incorrect, whatever. So now that something's actually working out...I think it's that I feel like I still feel it's inappropriate to express myself, heh, with the person I'm involved with, but repression no longer works so I express it to the outside world, not to who should actually be the object. Right?
So I'm experiencing the breakdown of some pretty strong defense mechanisms...anyone who knows me knows that I never talk about men looking good, about body parts, anything. For a long time, I couldn't even say that I was attracted to men. I would talk in terms of a person, what I liked in a person, etc.
So, even though I'm trying to maintain some level of propriety, like putting a lid on it, I feel like it's still boiling over the sides, and it's making the flame go orange...and thus the breakdown of my analogy, kind of.
But man, I never thought I'd be the type of woman who would dress up a man, but if B and I ever got to that stage of comfort...he's going to be buying those pants. The pants will be light colored, he'll wear, like, a pale blue or plum shirt, with these black shoes (aaahh, I don't know men's brands of shoes...I'll have to learn that!), and he'll have to use Aveeno...
See what I mean? I'm completely crazy.
This journal has not seen the likes of MQ. MQ was the last time I liked someone this much, all of 6 years ago. You think this is crazy...this other guy was absolute insanity! That was the first time I discovered that I was neurotic. Before, I was definitely more dysthimic...
So I have matured...I just went crazy this evening, that's all.
He knows just the right things to say to endear me to him, though. He has quiet skill...not quite the skill, but quiet skill...quiet game. I like it!
And so it begins. By the end of this week, I think, I may have officially lost my mind.
And yay, he's going to talk to me tomorrow!
In other news, wow, what a difference doing tricep curls makes! I'm actually using dumbbells now and not just the machine, and yeah, I'm definitely seeing the difference. That, and I've been kind of losing weight more quickly than has been intentional in the last few days. Even though I hadn't been to the gym in four days since Toilet Flood 2010 (I still hurt when I sit down...couldn't really do crunches...), I'm still losing weight. It's pretty awesome.
Okay, so this was a sufficiently disgusting entry. If I weren't trying to keep it real when it comes to what I'm actually going through, I'd be losing my street cred right about now...
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