Honestly

002.

I hate this part.

You feel it and I feel it and we’re kissing and touching and not even having sex just chilling and laughing and not even drunk, just sober and open and conversations that last for hours and cover absolutely everything. And yeah, we’ve acknowledged that we’re attracted to each other and we respect each other but neither of us has said it.

This isn’t high school. I don’t want to have a “I know you like me, but do you like me, like me” conversation. Yet, that’s what this is boiling down to and I hate it. It’s suspense and tension, like when you think somebody’s throwing you a surprise party but you don’t know and you can’t ask because you might not get a straight answer. Reason number one why I don’t fuck with surprise parties. I need straight answers. But I can’t blame you for not giving them to me because I’m still too much of a pussy to ask the questions. I don’t feel like I have to. There sitting there. Hovering between us. The questions are the gravity that pulls your hand into mine. The force that leans my head to your shoulder.

By that extra poetic logic I could say the answer is my soft squeeze of your hand, or your sigh of relaxation when I’m leaning on your shoulder.

~~Congrats on talking yourself into a circle, Ashley.~~

Just tell me. I need to hear it. I know actions speak louder than words but…..there’s something about words. Or maybe I’ll work up the courage to just tell you.

Wouldn’t hold your breath on that one though.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

So, how was your rapture? Mine was fantastic.

Today was my little brother’s tenth birthday. Double digits are a big deal in my family. We tricked out his nintendo DS, got him hacks for it so he can play music and movies on it now. I’s pimped lol. Then we took him to John’s Incredible Pizza Co., that was a blast. It’s like Chuck. E. Cheese, except these muhfuckas had like, amusement park level rides….inside the building. We had a ton of fun.

Nothing else going on in my life today. He and I have had absolutely no contact today so I can’t update you on that.

Mostly, today, I’m just praying that my Shani Sunshine feels better. And that Harold Camping’s followers assassinate him (had it really been rapture day I totally would’ve got left behind for saying that!).

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

I was late to work this morning. I didn’t get anywhere near enough sleep last night. Fucking Grey’s Anatomy season finale had my stomach in my throat for an hour, because I kept waiting for something to happen. Never did. The fuck ever. Then I was kinda waiting for him to come watch tv with me like he always does, but he said he was exhausted, and he stayed in his room. Didn’t invite me. Just told me he was tired and went away. Oh. Ok. I am Jack’s sad face.

Anyway, work dragged, and then I found out my supervisor fucked me over. I very rarely act an ass at work but I did today. Wednesday, I told my boss that I needed Saturday (tomorrow) off. It’s my little brother’s birthday and we have big plans. He said okay. But he didn’t put me on the calendar. So I come in today and I’m like, oh I’m out till Tuesday three day weekend w00t! You know, just ridiculously happy & shit, & my coworkers like, “Uhm….the calendar’s full & uhm….you’re not on it.” ‘Scuse me? Course I’m on the calendar. Me & Paul talked about this. Me and Paul talked about this Wednesday. It’s Friday. He had plenty of time to put me on the calendar.

But he didn’t.

Not only did he not put me on the calendar, he put two other people on the calendar instead of me. Cue me, acting a fool.

My supervisor has Fridays and Saturdays off, so he wasn’t there. The sup on duty was like, welp, he’s not here, & there’s no one to corroborate your story so….have your ass in here tomorrow. No, sir! I say, no sir! Text that muhfucka. Ooh, Jesus. You do not know how heated I was. Like, excuse me?! You wanna be lazy and now you’re fucking with my weekend plans? I think not. I will badger you till you fix this shit, sir. That is a guarantee!

Anyway. I lived in fear for six hours then he responded like, “oh yeah, my bad.” So I got the day off but I was kinda upset by how nonchalant he was about his fuck up. Like, “my nigga, are you aware I was about to have your balls in a jar over this shit?” Apparently he wasn’t aware. He is now, though. I made certain.

After work I go get Angie from Michael. Then to hang out with my little sister for a while. We had a dance marathon, but I was the only one dancing. They were playing dj (hence the song).

He texts me on the way home and asks me to pick up some spaghetti sauce, which I do, but besides a thank you, the man hasn’t said two words to me. This is getting awkward.

Joy. Because who needs more awkward in their life? Me!!!!!!!!

001.

Back to blogging I go, I suppose.

I’m having sex with this man (my roommate), but I don’t know what we’re doing. We’re obviously attracted to each other, and we have a fantastic time together, in everything we do. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and I’m bitchy, but whatever. We’ll get to that part later. What I’m confused about right now is that we’re having sex, but I don’t know if it’s recreational “for the hell of it” sex, or if it means something.

Just ask him, you say? I would. But I’m afraid of the answer. I’m afraid he’ll say something like, “We’re just enjoying each other. Just having a good time.” Honestly. That’s the worst answer. I’d rather he say I don’t know, then for him to say, in essense, “We’re just fucking, duh bitch.” Because I don’t know how to separate sex and love. Honestly, I don’t. And I told him that. Twenty minutes later we had sex for the first time. He probably doesn’t remember. We were both drunk. Shit got kinda hazy.

That’s another thing. We’d never had sex sober until last night. And last night was awkward as shit. I take full responsibility for that, though. I was thinking. See, that’s the thing about liquor, it makes you stop thinking, but sober? I wasn’t even enjoying the sex. I was too busy thinking about what it means. What does it mean? On top of that, the night we had sex sober was the first time he didn’t ask me to stay with him. I left. So what does that mean? Does it mean that he felt a way about it too? Or was he just fed up with my preoccupied sex game and not in the mood to see my face anymore? I’ll take that too. It totally wasn’t my best sex.

I hope you’re seeing my dilemma.

Now on to the bitchy part. He’s so fucking sweet to me and I’m just….rude. Not out and out rude, but I’m definitely not my normal open, happy self. I think that’s also because I don’t know what he wants out of this. I’m not gonna let my guard down and start being all fucking vulnerable if it’s just sex. I just put my shit back together, I have no intention of letting this man break my heart. And that’s exactly what’ll happen if I let him in and discover we’re not on the same page. I’ve already deduced this. I don’t know what page he’s on! This shit is bothering me to no end. I don’t know how to behave because I don’t know what we’re doing. I need a fucking game plan! I’m the kind of cat curiosity can kill, lol.

I know. I see you. You’re still saying, just ask him, and I suppose, eventually, I’ll have to put my big girl panties on and do that. But it won’t be tonight. There’s nowhere near enough liquor in the house for it to be tonight.