He came from somewhere back in her long ago...

If I concentrate on other things, my mind doesn't wander and I don't dwell on the enormous amount of guilt I feel when I think about how I've aided Rob in cheating on his girlfriend...

My plate has been full with moving out of my old house and into my new place, playoff hockey, concerts, my company softball team, visiting friends from Australia and the never-ending saga that is Ryan Lopez. One would think I'd feel a twinge of regret for hooking up with another dude (somebody else's dude, at that!) and not telling Ryan...but I don't. The only way Ryan would have ANY sort of claim on me, it'd have to be of the boyfriend/girlfriend kind. He's nowhere near that right now.

Ah yes, so Rob. I was distracted....for a while there...then boom...the text:

I didn't include the rest of the conversation because I answered that I'd just gotten home from a concert. Rob never answered back, so I went to bed. He ended up trying to talk to me again like an hour later but by then my phone was on silent and I was sound asleep. I should delete his number but what good would that do? He'd just keep pestering me. If I go back to ignoring him, maybe he'll reconcile with his girlfriend and leave me the hell alone. I sometimes feel that that's the routine he normally goes through.

I don't hate him enough to show these conversations to his girl...ughh...but man, it'd be sweet if she'd catch him red-handed. Although I enjoyed the random hook-up with Rob, I don't want to keep doing it. The more he comes at me, the sleazier it all feels. Any sort of affection he might have towards me feels extremely tainted.

(sigh) He's looking very good these days...if only all of his friends knew the evil shit he cooks up on his phone when his girlfriend isn't looking....

I have a lot of problems when it comes to dating. It's now come to my attention that I keep going after unavailable guys. Whether it be emotionally unavailable (Ryan), the fact that they belong to someone else (Rob) or are otherwise preoccupied with huge life decisions (Dan with the Mormonism or Alfonso with the big move back to LA). I have GOT to stop doing this to myself. These unfinished relationships and half-formed connections need to be eradicated from my life. I keep trying to start fresh somewhere new but I just continue to make the same mistakes. I wish I could just move to the Heartland or somewhere in Middle America and start all over again. A fresh start is warranted but I just don't have the time or money. Besides, the guys are the ones who suck, why should I have to move? Running away from the problem doesn't help. I also have to come to realize that I also suck. I suck at making decisions. Maybe I just need to work on myself and my self-control before I start looking for a new place to make mistakes.

I make the same mistakes, feels like I never learn...

fuck

Fuck.

Fuck....

FUCK.....

FUCK!!!!!!!

****

I make the same mistakes
Feels like I never learn
Always give way too much
For little in return
I haven't changed a bit
I’m still not over it
I make the same mistakes
I make the same mistakes


****

It wasn't enough to ruin my own relationship 3 years ago...I had to now ruin someone else's....maybe I haven't completely killed it, but I have helped to start the dreadful wheels in motion...I've put cracks in the foundation....I've poked holes....I started the death march.

You can imagine where the rest of that went. My mom wasn't home, she was spending the night at her man-friend's house. I had the whole house to myself. And all I wanted was to sleep. The Renaissance Faire that afternoon had been tiring...I didn't think Rob would really show. I called his bluff.

He shows up at my place at a quarter to 2 am, hair slicked back....devilish goatee..wearing a band T-shirt and jeans. And when he bent down to hug me, he felt so cold. He was talking rapidly, in that ways of his...somewhere halfway between drunk and high. At least his stuttering/mumbling problem got better...I can't even begin to tell you what happened...the next hour was a complete and utter blur.

We try small talk as we sit on my bed, both of us waiting for the other one to make a move. And when he finally kisses me (and you only get one of those in a great while), I feel I'm transported back to the summer of 2005. I remember his mouth. Why does it have to belong to someone else? I can't even enjoy kissing him because I can't stop thinking about how wrong this is....and how wrong it's going to be.

I know what's coming next. I excuse myself to freshen up in the bathroom. Before he had shown up, I had been fast asleep. Like I said, didn't think he'd actually go through with it...how many false alarms and fake outs had he given me before? I didn't believe him for one second. And now he's in the bedroom, waiting for me and I'm sitting on the toilet, having a moral crisis. "Should I tell him to go home?" I ask myself. And my knees are shaking. My hands are shaking. I'm shaking. I'm so scared. I'm so nervous. My teeth start to chatter. The last time I was ever this terrified of seeing someone, I was like 8 years old and about to see the dentist. I splash water on my face. I step outside in my pajamas and stand face to face with Rob. He's a fucking vision, with those quick eyes....dark hair and a Tool tattoo on his arm. I make the same mistake.

He's a good kisser, as I remember. And he won't stop telling me how beautiful I look, even though I'm standing there in no make up, pajama shorts and my hair up in a ponytail.

I didn't fuck him. I let him eat me out until I had come a full three times. (AH YES! I REMEMBER THAT, TOO! EXCELLENT WORK!) As a reward, I sucked his dick and boy did he finish fast...sheesh....I'll never know if that's a testament to my work or his shitty endurance.

And just like the last time I cheated with him (circa 2007 on that asshole Alberto who definitely deserved it), we awkwardly embrace and say goodbye, both of us muttering apologies and regrets. We can't even look at each other. I look at my linoleum floor, Rob is already going for the door knob. I want to reach up and grab him by the face, right into his brown eyes and ask, "Why won't you just let her go? If this is what you want, LET THE POOR GIRL GO!"

Thing is, I don't know if the poor girl is his chick....or me? I wish he'd just be done with me, too. These things never have happy endings, I know.

Believe me, I know.

And the next morning, I pray I dreamt it all. But his text that afternoon proves it.

So now I've got a new heavy cross to bear. I've got a new weight on my conscience. Something that I'll probably get away with it....but never get away from the guilt.

I wish this had never happened. For once, I wish I wasn't me.

****

Walking the streets alone
Thinking of you till dawn
I make the same mistakes
I make the same mistakes

He will wait until you give yourself to him....

"Fate up against your will....."

I'm no better than Hannah. I have no will power. I am tremendously weak. I give in too easily. I can't stick to my own convictions. I am scum. I lack good judgement. I don't value myself enough. This is what a drug addict must feel like? You say you'll stay away...you say you'll quit this time...and then you make all the excuses in the world for why you do it again. You're left alone, to your own devices, and you fall back in. Deeply in.

I met Ryan for dinner and a sleepover last night.

Not sure what component of him is that I can't resist. All I know is, when I am in despair over him and he won't bat an eye at me, I feel so depressed....so heartbroken I feel that I will never resurface...I can feel the surge of how insane I am over him, how certain things make me jealous, angry, vengeful....it's like a schoolgirl crush on steroids. It's passionate, it's childish...it's unhealthy.

Oh, but when he notices me. When he seeks me out. When he boosts my ego. When he calls me at 5:43 pm, just to chat before we hang out that night....just to see what I'm up to....my heart soars. Life pumps through my heart and nothing hurts. When he texts me, when he smiles at me...when he pulls me in closer for a hug. When I'm standing at his doorstep, quaking with nervousness and he steps out onto the porch to let me in...then all of that rage from before slowly melts away into a blur.

He's not feeling well. His stomach is bothering him. We settle on a nice Mediterranean restaurant for dinner. Lots to catch up on: work, hockey, my company softball team, friends, parties, etc. I am happy. It's almost like a mental block, like I don't remember how hurt and lonely I am when he's not around, when he stands me up and makes me wait. "What's wrong with you!??!?" I scream in my head as I sit across from Ryan, listening to him talk about UFC. "SHUT UP!" I thunder back at myself...."Shut up and enjoy yourself! It always tastes better when you wait, when you suffer, when you try so hard and then you get a fucking reward!" I must be mental.

Our waitress gives us a tarot card to mark our order. "The Lovers" I muse out loud...."How appropriate?" I take a picture and warn Ryan he's in the frame. He makes a goofy face at me:

I do my best to stop arguing with myself and just bask in the fun dinnertime conversation. What am I going to do? Pick a fight with him while he sits there, excited to talk to me. He's nursing a weird stomach ailment and can't even finish his wrap, yet keeps a happy face. How can I stay mad at him? HOW LONG WILL YOU KEEP MAKING EXCUSES FOR HIM??! Ughhh...I know. I know!

Ryan takes a 10 minute bathroom break. I ask if he's dying. He says he's close to it. I snap one last picture of us together before he expires:

Is he going to throw up? I don't now. I look awesome, though! I guess I am losing weight! :) Ryan says I look more Asian than usual. Hee hee.

Back at his place, we take our time getting ready for bed. Ryan fires up the lap top and we watch some MMA fights, plus a couple of science documentaries narrated by Leonard Nimoy....yeah, weird but I like it. We move gingerly towards the fun stuff. It's clear he's in too much pain to fuck, so we just stick to blowjobs and fingering. Very high school, hahaha...but he's not feeling well. I was a little miffed that I didn't get to have sex with him but it made me strangely pleased that he just wanted to talk most of the night. He laid down next to me, face up with his arm over his stomach to lessen the ache. I wonder if it's gallstones. I tell him to see a doctor and he promises he will if the pain persists for another day. He says he owes me for the next time, which I can only assumes means he'll fuck me proper. I say that's fine and cradle his head in my arms, stroking his thick black hair. It's so soft and smells like mens shampoo. I kiss him sweetly on the lips. As recompense, he names 3 things he likes about me. I warn him to please not include anything about my boobs or vagina. He's quicker than I thought.

1. "You like the 'Tonies....the Deftones...and that's awesome." He motions at my tattoo. I laugh but accept the compliment
2. "You're a very nice girl...very kind...and you put up with my bullshit. Yes, you're a nice girl." I beam.
3. "You have impeccable taste in music, even though you fail here and there." I know he means my penchant for Coldplay.

Okay, so it wasn't the most deep and inspiring speech, and I think #1 and #3 are the same thing? Whatever. When it came to be my turn, I was a little more direct.

1. I like that you make me laugh....you make me laugh at the most awful things. That's not an easy feat.
2. I like that you question everything. You do a lot of reading on your own and find the most thought-provoking Wikipedia articles. You never stop learning.
3. When you're sweet....you're sweet. I don't see that side very often, but when I do, it's wonderful.

He smiles at me when I explain #3. He leans over carefully, avoiding laying on his stomach and kisses me in the dark. "I don't let that side come out very much, I know" he says. We cuddle under the blankets and fall asleep.

In the middle of the night, I get up to use the bathroom. Ryan stirs and sits up slowly. He asks if I can get him a drink of water. I agree but in the dark and half asleep, I manage to knock over his Han Solo Star Wars cup. It breaks in the bathroom sink. I groan and start to pick up the pieces. I apologize profusely to which Ryan informs me the cup isn't even his, it's his roommate's. Blargh!! Well, if June doesn't hate me already, she's going to hate me now.

(sidebar: Ryan told me she refers to me as "The Loud One." I don't even wanna know!)

The next morning we wake up slowly. My alarm on my phone goes off a few times. I know Ryan's serious about being ill because he refuses a breakfast blowjob. No wakey wakey, hands on snakey. SHOCKING.

I do snap this picture of him looking quite sick with his cat laying by his side:

He was laying there, mumbling about how sharp the pain was in his side. I am convinced he's got something serious going on...or he's a really good actor. I tell him he's probably putting on a show so that I get that hint he's tired of me. He shakes his head, "If I was tired of you...you wouldn't be sitting here next to me...believe me....you would know." Hmmm. At the end, I apologize for being a shitty nurse....I must have accidentally pushed on his stomach like 2 or 3 times and I broke his Star Wars cup. He says it's okay. He says not all of our dates can be home-runs.

He walks me to his front door...well, I walk and Ryan mostly hobbles. At his door step, we embrace. I tell him to see me soon. He promises he will. We kiss about 10 times in a row. Just when I think he's done, he kisses me again. I say goodbye, with a giggle in my voice and practically float back to my car. It's like all that anger and confusion from a few nights ago was magically erased.

I feel like letting the vice win. Take me away, Ryan. Whatever feelings I have for you, I want you to wrap me up in them and squeeze....make me forget the hurt. Giving you up is too hard. Giving in feels amazing. I know you could only be a temporary fix, but that's all I have right now. I have nothing else.

You chewed me up & spit me out like I was poison in your mouth

I really, really, really hope this is the final nail in the coffin. I truly and sincerely hope that last night was the last straw. There's no way I can go any lower, there's no way that I haven't already hit bottom.

FUCK...this hurts.

I felt all sorts of swarming feelings of excitement, apprehension and fear as I let my mind consider the fact that Ryan might very well show up at my friend Lauren's birthday party. I spent all day just wondering if he'd really put himself in that sort of social situation. The more I thought about it, the more I knew he'd find an excuse to skip it.

I was absolutely and completely correct.

Just as I step out of my car and grab my purse, I hear a text go off.

Sorry, my cropping and resizing skills aren't magic....but notice that time stamp? Yeah...I waited until 2:30 am for him and he never answered. He ignored me. I am so angry at myself, probably the angriest I've ever been. I did my best to not let my seething rage show at Lauren's party. I masked all my pain with a happy face and made jokes about things to take my mind off how hurt and depressed I felt. How can I stop caring about him when every little thing he does rattles me to the core? I wish I could switch all this off, I really do. But I can't....there's just no way. I purposefully didn't drink more during the party. I knew that if I got drunk, I would text something regrettable to Ryan. I'm very proud I didn't.

IT GETS WORSE: At the end of the night, as I waited for him to respond to my text, I parked in front of my house and sat in my car. I felt every minute tick away. Waiting.....waiting....hoping....praying. I waited until 3 am. Doesn't get any more sad and lonely than that. "Please let me get over him" I said over and over inside my head. If I truly cared about him, I could shed a tear....but I couldn't....I felt numb. It wasn't until I began to think about how unappreciated I felt, how much effort I was wasting, that I finally could get some moisture in my eyes. It was weird to just sit there in the dark, all alone...no sobs, no trembling chin....nope....just two tears slid down my face and that was it. I hope those are the last ones I ever shed for Ryan. If I needed a sign, this is it.

I wish I could be as blasé about him as he is about me. It's far too late for that. I need to move on... 

On tonight's episode of HBO's "Girls", Hannah told off her sometimes-paramour Adam and her speech was brilliant. I felt so inspired. Everything she was telling this guy was perfect and it hit so close to home. I literally sat up straight and got chills. She was saying all the things I ever wanted to say to Ryan. But then it all went to hell when Adam kissed her. She savagely puts her arms around him and they fuck. (SIGH) So close....so close....that's me...I'm just so close and then I get roped back into Ryan.

If I ever find that clip, I'm going to post it. Maybe my situation will have a better ending. Maybe I'll be smarter than Hannah.  

We are ready for the siege. We are armed up to the teeth

Again. It's all happening too fast.

Saturday morning, Dan and I decide to hang out before he has to get to work. I have the house all to myself and we have a little fun, the kind of fun that won't result in making a baby and thus keep his Mormon faith intact. I enjoyed myself and I know he did, too. As I watched him pack his stuff up to start a full day of work, we talked and joked around. He zips up his laptop carrier and glances over at me, "So Three Bean, are you doing anything today? Do you want to come to work with me again?" I smile and politely decline. I've got prior arrangements but it hurt me to say no. Ughhh....I really wanted to spend time with him...but more than anything, I wanted to say yes. The simple gesture of desiring to spend time with me, that....that's the good stuff. That's what I want most. And I see he's remembered one of his favorite nicknames for me...hahha, oh, Three Bean.

Ryan doesn't give me that. Ryan only wants me around if it's convenient to him. He'd never ask to spend the day with me. And so I realize that my feelings for him are woefully misguided. I don't love him. I love the idea of wanting to love him and someday domesticating him. But you can't trap a crazy, metal head like that. Dan maybe....but not Ryan. (sigh)

In other news, Alfonso has finally set a date for his return:

"bought my ticket to go back to LA today. I'll be there in 1 month and counting!"

First of June. Let the freak out begin. I don't....even....know..where....to....start.

***

My best friend Lauren's birthday party is this Saturday, coincidentally on Cinco de Mayo. Worlds are colliding.

Just got confirmation that Ryan will be there, fashionably late, but definitely there. He messaged me just now on FB, wondering if I'll be there and if I want to take a ride on his "transatlantic dong" after the party. We all know what that means.
Dan says he might go. He needs to check his schedule, he says. I wonder if that means no? Hmmm.

I had mentioned to Dan that Ryan might be at the party. I asked, jokingly, if there was going to be a fight over my heart. Dan laughed and said he'd pack a knife. GULP.

Complete coverage of this and more, on the next thrilling episode of  "Guess Who's In My Box" !!!!

dun dun....dun!!!!

And it feels like I am just too close to love you...

Great success! I am not harboring a bastard child!

Glad that secret ordeal is over. And now to deal with the icky feelings of before....I wish there was a way to stab the desire to love him out of my heart and pull it out, like you do a splinter or a giant sword lodged in your gut. He doesn't deserve it, he hasn't earned it and would just sooner throw it away than actually confront it. I've never been so crazy over someone and then at the same time diametrically opposed to them.

If I value my sanity at all, I will get over this. Though I would be so elated if revealing my true feelings would result in reciprocal feelings and then a blooming romance, I know that's too much of a risk. I can feel I'd be on the losing side of that bet. The most I can strive for is occasional companionship, random dates and A+ sex.

I have to keep telling myself this, that Ryan can never be more to me than what he is now. It should be my mantra. But I'm stubborn. I want to mold this into something more because I want it so bad. This refusal to give up would've come in handy in my last relationship.

I'm always two steps behind.

I don't wanna know the price I'm gonna pay for dreaming

I've been avoiding this blog for one very gut-wrenching reason.

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.