never mind, back after all

I was in the city this evening and decided to drop Shonna a call. Partly, I felt guilty for yesterday (see last post), and partly I felt like I should show more of myself and give her a chance to actually reject me.

It went well. There were the normal first time issues (anxiety, awkwardness), but it is was great.

But, as girly as it may sound, I found myself hoping during pillow talk, wanting her to say something wonderful, wishing to hear those things I usually hear that I internally roll my eyes at.

Which got me to thinking about whether or not I've actually been rolling my eyes. I haven't been. I have been actually hoping.

Oh shit. (Yes, go ahead, say it out loud!)

But, alas, she's perfect Alfie fodder. More guarded than I, yet willing to enjoy one another. Weekly visits are the standard schedule; more is too boyfriend-y, less is not interested. A single man's dream. Gotta love city girls for that, eh?

Or hate them, dying another little death inside as I forget the did-that-really-happen memory of Texas and a little girl who reminded me of my youth.

I left Shonna tonight, as we both cited "sleeping in my own bed" and "not on a 'school' night" as suitable reasons for me not to crash there despite being "welcome to stay", and "lov[ing] the idea of waking up to [her]".

And then I called up my best friend to tell him I "came through", because somehow I thought that me following through after yesterday's "failure" would somehow make him happy. Or, more accurately (ah, the benefits of retrospect), I was hoping that his props would make me happy.

He didn't rejoice, and although I did feel happy (afterglow is great, even if we don't love each other), I promptly called up another good friend and went drinking. Two IPAs and some Thai noodles later, I found myself driving home, listening to "Let it Burn" by Usher, and remembering how that song so hit home for me years ago when I was still crying over the one girl who would hurt me more than all the others (Laura the whore-slut, for the record), wondering why the afterglow was fading.

Then I got home, here, and clicked an innocent message from a good friend about college, youth, and the hopefulness of the future, only to click absentmindedly where I shouldn't have, on photos of an autumn long since past that no one else will remember but vaguely, yet which somehow seems to have actually changed me.

Like I said, I've been actually hoping. For better or for worse. Probably worse, because I'm still farming the same sour waters (love those SF girls, once again!!), but I've been over that many, many, many a time.

Anyway. I feel completely gay at the moment (sorry to use that term in a semi-pejorative, but it's kinda funny in this context), wanting to find some MP3s in my iTunes library from the Titanic soundtrack.

See, now wasn't that use of "gay" funny? Pitiful, too, perhaps, but really fucking funny. :-)

So yeah. I just got laid, had a couple of beers with a dear friend, filled my stomach, and am now sipping on a sweet glucosamine/vitamin supplement. Like Shawn said to me last weekend, it's good to be Alfie (well, no, actually he used my REAL name, but we can't go THERE).

So why doesn't Alfie know it? Why does he ponder his 30th birthday, the world almost literally at his fingertips, and none of the ideas on the table sound remotely entertaining?

You know what I want? I want Mr. Holland's fucking Opus. I want every motherfucker I've ever inspired, ever had sex with, ever been the catalyst of achievement for, ever made happy, to come out of the woodwork and thank me. I want to feel loved. Or, at least, like I have made a difference to someone.

--

I wonder how many of you would come if I invited you?


A nice thought just popped into my head. Almost all of them.

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(Don't tell anyone, but I still miss my fantasy. Seeing L's big sis last Friday was actually quite a bit harder on me than I let on. That's the lion's share, I think, of why I was depressed all weekend.)

Sigh. If I only knew how to duplicate those feelings. Or, perhaps more sanely, replicate them.