Not sure if I'm ready to admit this even to myself, but the thought....the realization....the upsetting, yet wonderfully pleasant notion of being in love is slowly creeping into my life.
I just wish it were with someone who didn't treat me like cat litter.
I think...and I use that word strongly....*think*...thiiiiink...
I think I'm in love with Ryan.
Oh God, just looking at the words makes me happy yet extremely upset at myself...because I wish it wasn't true...I hoped, prayed and fantasized heavily that the next time I'd be in love...that the next time I'd be this romantically sprung on some dude, he'd love me back. But he doesn't even have a clue.
The last couple of weeks I denied, denied, denied until I felt sick at the thought of loving him. I wish it'd make me physically ill, just so I could learn to drop it. But the more I push him out of my mind, the more I wrap him up in several romantic thoughts. I can't go one day without wondering how he is, if he'll ever come around, how magical things would be if he just gave in as easily as I did. Should I tell him? NO.
I've told one person. My friend Sandy. It was her birthday party at Dave & Busters and it was painfully obvious that I was distracted. I wasn't acting myself. I was cold, distant and with a perpetual far-away look in my eyes. Inside my brain was a 7 hour struggle: "only you would fall in love with your fuck buddy." I had to explain my behavior to her. Sandy asked what was my "a-ha" moment. When did I know? I'm still not exactly sure. Maybe it was during my Lent abstinence. Maybe it was immediately following our wonderful sushi date. Maybe it's been in the coming days and weeks where we've actually been civil and nice to each other online, that'd I've had way too many encounters with him to even describe.
For example, a few mornings ago I was sitting in traffic on Cesar Chavez Blvd., when I see Ryan's light blue Honda Civic pull up in front of me. I didn't wave or honk. I just sat there, slowly feeling the rush come. Hands go clammy and sweaty, pulse quickens, face gets red, heart starts slamming in my chest, stomach is full of butterflies, mind starts racing. My chemicals are up and he's not even looking at me. Just the mere thought of him being a few feet away sends me reeling. I'm confirming it's him, by reading his crazy bumper stickers and I see his head just over his driver's seat. He's wearing a baseball hat. His roommate is sitting next to him. He's probably taking her to work. Suddenly, I'm snapped from my daze. He's turned left in front of me and is gone. I'm left there...baffled. He does this to me....every. single. time. It's gotta mean something! It has to! It can't just be a funny feeling in my underwear. I'm lovesick. Crushes come and go...but this....this shakes me to the core. I feel it in my heart. I think I've felt it for nearly 6 months now!
Isn't the cardinal rule of friends with benefits NOT to attach feelings to the sex? Yet, that's all I've done. I've hyped him up to myself. I've convinced myself that it's all something more. And now I'm too far gone. Everything I ever do, say or feel for him carries meaning....even if he doesn't realize it. When I'm with him, all I ever want is for him to be happy. Is it a chronic obsession? Or is it love? Is this my interpretation of such a deep feeling? I don't know. All I know is that it weighs heavily on my soul. Love is the worst when it's unrequited...when it's a one-way street....I haven't been on this side of things in a really long time. *sigh* It kinda sucks and then it's kinda perfect in its own stupid way.
Ah yes, and did I mention...24 days later and still no sign of a period? That's the whole arsenic-laced cherry on my perfect, lovestruck sundae. As if I didn't have enough problems worrying about carrying Ryan's bastard child....now I have the notion of my heart depending on his every move. Why couldn't I fall in love with the mail man or the UPS guy? At least them I get to see every day. Blah.
For now, I don't want to do anything about this. Ryan doesn't deserve to know how I feel. I haven't given up on wooing Alfonso, but that just seems like more of a scheme than an actual declaration of good intentions. I'm sure with time I'll sort this out. And maybe I'll fall out of love as quickly as I fell in. Maybe it's just menstrual hormones (I hope!)? Maybe I've seen too many Hollywood rom-coms? Haha...damned if I know anymore.
I guess you really can't help who you fall in love with. I sure know how to pick 'em.
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