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Obligatory, if belated, New Year’s Post

January 15, 2015

It has to stop, I said. I have to walk away.

So with whom did I spend Christmas Eve?

MTIA.

Of. Fucking. Course.

But wait, because this couldn’t be a true work of fiction without some full scale irony, it gets better. It was the first time we hung out, just the two of us, since I stormed out of a bar after flipping out on him – nearly a year to the day. Where do we end up this year? The very same bar. I swear we tried to get coffee. We tried other bars even. But we ended up back there.

I still love him. I shouldn’t. His name is more apropos than ever: My Tragedy In Action, lest you’ve forgotten. He drinks too much. He hates his shithouse job. He believes, truly believes, that he is worthless. His arms look like he was attacked repeatedly by a freaking bear. He needs to take a shower. His life is in shambles. And I still love him.

I gave him the Christmas gift I had planned to give him last year, because we randomly stopped by my place en route to a party after the bar. He got sad looking around. He used to live in the neighborhood, and did spend the better part of three months at my place.

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.
He sighed. “About the past. About the present. The future.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have given him the guitar. He didn’t know how to react. He didn’t look excited. I overstepped my boundaries, I think, and he doesn’t know how to accept a gift that doesn’t somehow come back to bite him in the arse. It’s a guitar I don’t play, and never will. It was gifted to me, and so I regifted it. Maybe I downplayed it TOO much. I don’t know. Eventually, I’ll ask him. But when I dropped him off, he hugged me, wished me a Happy Christmas, and said we’ll hang out soon. I didn’t hear from him for more than two weeks. It shouldn’t matter. But it does. He matters. He is still my friend, and I still feel indelibly linked to him.

My life, however, is comparatively looking up. The last show where I was to have to deal with both MTIA and TLTL at the same time was cancelled, and I was spared an otherwise inevitable panic attack. I’m sorting through finances, getting shit done at work, selling a lot of random art and commissioned pieces. Sure, one of my cats died last week and another is unarguably on the way out due to terminal cancer, and I spent two weeks sleeping 18 hours a day during the month I’ve been sick, but the good far outweighs the bad. I shouldn’t have bought yet two more pairs of boots, but I’ve since removed my credit cards from my wallet, and I now have a game plan for paying them off. I’ll be eating ramen for a while like I did in college, but I’m doing well. I’m still very happily dating FastCar, with whom I have still not fooled around.

Actually, we fooled around a little bit. A very miniscule bit. I’d detail it, but it’s so miniscule that it hardly bears mention. I’ve now become incredibly uneasy that we’ve been dating for five months and I’ve not slept with him. Probably, this line of thinking should tell me I’m waaaaaaaay to easy, but now I’m starting to believe something is wrong with me. I mean, he can’t possibly be dating anyone else. We spent his birthday together. Christmas. New Year’s Eve. These are big holidays to choose to spend with someone. You don’t do that willy nilly.

I swore that I wouldn’t be the kind of person that checked to see if he still had an active dating profile, but I’m desperate…

Here goes nothing…

He has been active within a week.

Crap. At least I know he’s still looking then. I’m not “the one.” I’m “Twig will do until…” Crap.

On one hand, maybe he’s only still looking because he’s not sure where I stand. I’m really shitty about communicating. Maybe it’s time that I just ASK where we stand.

Alrighty then. I’ve just massively depressed myself, so I’m going to go play with a hot glue gun and call it art.

Goshdarnit. I need a hug. There are no hugs to be had. I’ve got lots of razors, though. Fuck that. I’m going to make art.

Okay. Wait. Shit just got REALLY interesting.

In a text conversation with FastCar just now, I mentioned writing in my journal.
He was curious. Very curious. “What about?”
“Oh, you know, the pursuit of awesomeness in the new year and a giant to do list.”
“Oh? Am I on that list?” I imagined him grinning the way he does, looking at me shyly, hopefully.
Are you on my TO DO list? Hell YES you are! 
I didn’t say that. I said, simply, “Yup.” And, sure, I threatened to devour his soul. I’m nothing if not a romantic.

And then we established that it’s a good thing. Dinner and movies at his place tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

Dear life, why you make love so confusing?

NOW I’m going to go make art.

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