Do any of you remember this game? You could play with 2-4 players, each taking turns to place their piece onto the “board”. I remember wanting to be brave and put my pieces on the outer edges (where you could score more points)…but it always seemed that I was the person who toppled the game.

Why am I mentioning Topple? Well, first, I like the analogy. The old ”straw that broke the camels back.” is so overused, and besides, most of us have played Topple…but how many of us have placed a straw on a camels back? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

I had my Topple moment with Edgar last Friday. It was something simple, insignificant really, but it was my lightbulb moment, and the board toppled over, and all the pieces scattered on the floor. I honestly don’t even know where to begin. No matter what I say, it will sound like I’ve been keeping score of all the “little things” that have bothered me. I haven’t consciously tried to remember these things, but on Friday it seemed that everything came into focus, and I spent all weekend trying to sort out my thoughts. I’ll start from Friday, bear with me if you care to know.

Before I left work on Friday, Edgar was online. We were chatting a bit, and he was being his usual sweet self. He’s been the bright spot in my days for quite some time, and by the time I left work I was grinning like an idiot. When I got home and got online, he wasn’t online anymore, but it was still early in the morning for him so I thought maybe he had gone to breakfast. Then, I thought maybe he had fallen back to sleep. I waited a couple hours for him to come online, and I found myself becoming really annoyed by the fact that I was at home on a Friday night…waiting for him to come online. Even though I know it wasn’t deliberate, it felt like a very personal rejection.

I was talking to a friend of mine, and I started laying out all the pieces of this puzzle.

-Edgar and I have been friends almost a year, and I’ve been in love with him….a good portion of that time.
-In the time I’ve known Edgar, I’ve seen four pictures of him and heard his voice once. He’s seen my videoblogs, and I even cammed for him once, but that was never reciprocated, or even discussed.
-Edgar has only emailed me (without me asking him to, or without me emailing him first) about three times.
-We don’t chat on any messengers, be it text or audio. We did for a while, but he either keeps me blocked 24/7, or he’s never on his messenger. (I’m going with he’s got me blocked.)
-Edgar seldom talks about his life away from the computer. I know that he works and that now he’s going to school…but as of Friday…I had no idea what his schedule was like. I also have no idea what he does when he’s away from the computer.
-He has kept me completely separate from his “real” life. He hasn’t told any of his friends or family about me, and I don’t think he ever intended to.
-I have been very passive with Edgar. I’ve made no demands (or even requests, for that matter) for his time or attention. I don’t press him for information about his life, I don’t ask anything…because I feel that if he wanted me to know, he would tell me.

I could go on, but I think that’s enough to illustrate my point. Now, from here you could say “But you and Edgar aren’t together anymore, why should he tell you anything anyway?”  …and the answer could be “Maybe he shouldn’t.” But lately, Edgar has been behaving in a way with me that has made me feel as if he still feels about me the way that I feel for him. In retrospect, I can say that I saw what I wanted to see. I love him, and I want him to love me, so I misinterpreted his behavior.

So, Friday night when I went to bed…the pieces started to topple. By the time I woke up on Saturday morning, I had a clear head, and I started writing notes on paper. Having all those words at my fingertips made it very real for me…that I’ve been a complete and utter fool for him. I don’t think he’s malicious, maybe just likes my attention, but he certainly doesn’t feel about me the way I feel about him. That was a bitter pill to swallow when just last week he told me I was the most important woman in his life, after his mother.

It took me quite a while to get my thoughts straight, but once they were…everything seemed crystal clear. I just had to work up the courage to talk to Edgar about it. I felt like I didn’t have the right to be angry, but feeling frustrated for waiting for him (and rejected when he never came online)…those emotions I let myself ponder. I finally asked him “Do I matter to you? Am I important to you?” …and he kept answering my questions with questions. I just wanted a straight answer “Yes, you matter to me.” or “No, you’re nothing to me.” But I think more than that…I wanted him to be honest with me for once and tell me where I stand with him.

He was frustratingly quiet, and I almost came unhinged when he said “I didn’t ask to be important to you.” How awful and inconvenient it must be for him to have my complete and utter devotion. He told me not to love him, that he’s not able to return my feelings…that he’s “incapable” of love. He also said he’s a very shallow person, and to not expect anything from him so that I don’t get my feelings hurt.

So…for once…I decided to listen to him. In the past, when he’s said similar things, I’ve told myself that he’s lying. When he did “love” me, his love felt deep and very real to me…and it’s obviously taken me months to even begin to let go of what “was”. So then I thought…maybe he was just acting all along. Maybe he really is just a shallow person who isn’t capable of loving someone else. I haven’t wanted to see it, haven’t wanted to allow a moment of doubt that what we had wasn’t real.

But…Topple. There’s too many pieces. Things have fallen out of balance…and it all came crashing down.

He honestly has been the most important person in my life…for months and months now. I felt so deeply for him, that I didn’t allow myself to see that he didn’t feel it in return. I allowed myself to see his little acts of flirtation and affection as something more than what they were. When he woke up in the morning…I allowed myself to believe I was the only person he was speaking to. I allowed myself to believe that I was the only person enjoying his morning sweetness, and morning hugs, and all the sweet things he is and does when he first wakes up. When he told me he missed me, I allowed myself to believe that I was the only person he missed. I’ve really been blind.

If I take off the blinders…and I see him for just the person he is…all those little things are sweet, but they’re not special…and I had allowed myself to think they were. I let myself think I was as important to him as he has been to me. When I asked him if I matter to him….the answer was perfectly clear to me before he even answered me.

I’ve made a fool of myself for far too long. Edgar sees me as a friend, and whatever we had before…doesn’t exist. So I’ll learn to see Edgar as a friend, too. I won’t be the stupid moon-eyed girl who sees meaning in every word. If I truly value his friendship as I’ve said I do…then I need to learn that he is just a friend.

 Thanks for tolerating my stupidity for all these months, I feel like I should be apologizing to everyone. I guess it just took that one tiny thing to make everything tumble into clarity. For the record, I’m pretty much okay with this. I had my little crying spell on Friday night after I talked to my friend…and then I went to bed early to sleep off my sour mood. I was grumpy a bit on Saturday, especially after I talked to Edgar…but that passed, too. I’m just tired of the emotional rollercoaster that I’ve had myself on.

Does anybody else have deja vu from this post? I feel like I’m stuck in the movie Groundhog Day but instead of me needing to find out that I’m an asshole, I needed to find out I’m an idiot.

The election is over. Finally. I can’t say I’m pleased with the results, but I am honestly glad that McCain conceded defeat instead of throwing our country into chaos like the Kerry camp did in the 2004 election. I’m sure there will be issues that pop up over the next few days, but it seems that this election clearly shows that Obama is what (most of) America wants.

I stayed after work today for close to an hour, talking with my boss about politics. I came away from the conversation feeling as if I had honestly learned something. My boss sees past issues like gay rights and abortion, and thinks more in terms of how Obama wants to change our economy. We didn’t even discuss the ways that things will change with a Democratic-controlled House and Senate, but I can only imagine that this election will be the only thing he talks about tomorrow.

I got a call today from Amy, one of my childhood best friends. She and her husband married right out of high school, and they’re still happily married. They’re OTR truck drivers, spend weeks together in an eighteen wheeler, and have managed to stay together. The last time I talked to her was about two years ago when we ran into each other at the supermarket. Prior to that, I hadn’t seen her since my own wedding day in 1996. In our group of friends, Amy was the youngest, and always the negative, angry, antagonistic personality. Kristi, our other best friend was in the middle; the studious, responsible, reasonable personality. I was the oldest, but I was the dreamer, peacemaker, and group “cheerleader.”

When we were all still young and full of dreams, we imagined that we would live in the same neighborhood, raise our children together, and never lose touch. I graduated first, moved away, and grew apart from them. After Amy and Kristi were both married, I felt even more that I didn’t belong with them any longer. By the time I got married, we had grown so far apart that only Amy bothered to attend my wedding. Now, we all live within 20 miles of each other, but they feel like strangers to me.

Amy and I made promises to get together when she and her husband are back in town, and I’m interested to see how (or if) she has changed. Even more fascinating would be to have Kristi there as well, to see if the old dynamic still applies. I suppose I’ll always be the dreamer and peacemaker, and it’s just part of who I am to be everyone’s cheerleader.

I didn’t talk to Edgar at all today, but I didn’t really expect to. He’s got a lot on his plate right now, and his focus will be shifting more towards his education. I have a feeling that if I get to talk to him once or twice a week, that I’ll be lucky. I see him bettering himself as a positive thing, and I wouldn’t want to be part of the anchor that keeps him at a standstill.

Anyway, it’s late, and I feel completely drained. I’m hoping for a dreamless sleep tonight after the nightmare I had last night, but I think the BC pills my doctor has me on have done something to my brain. If I sleep all night, I’ll be happy, if not…I’ll just drink coffee until I’m twitching and stuttering.

I had a long heart to heart talk with my friend Luk this evening. He is one of the friends I’ve trusted enough to read here, and have access to all my locked entries. He’s read all my posts, but he’s also been around to witness quite a bit of the things I’ve written about (in regards to my relationship with Edgar.)

After we talked for quite a while, Luk told me that after he read my blog that he felt I was insecure and doubting everything, but after talking to me, that he sees now that I know exactly what I want. He also asked if sometimes my blog is an act. At first I thought he meant that I “act” here, or that I’m not real, but what he meant was that I’m not always completely sincere. I hate that I’m so transparent.

So yes, it’s true. I often gloss things over here, and paint a pretty picture with words. I avoided talking about Edgar for a month, because I didn’t want to go through months more of the “poor pitiful me” episode that I went through before. Truth be told, I do still have the same feelings, doubts, concerns, and sleepless nights that I had before…but I haven’t written about them because I haven’t wanted to bore my readers with the same shit over and over. I haven’t been true to myself, and I have been skating around things, to make everyone else feel better.

There was also the question of whether or not Edgar still reads my blog. When I put all my entries behind passwords, I quit checking my blog stats. Once a week or so, I torture myself by checking to see who’s been reading, and I’ve not had any visitors from the Philippines, so no, I don’t think he reads here anymore. Even still, on the off chance that he decides to come here and catch up, I didn’t want him to come here and read about how miserable I was, because he made his decision (to not be with me) and I didn’t want him to doubt himself simply because I was sad. Again, I put someone else’s feelings before my own.

Now that Edgar and I are on speaking terms again, I’ve got things to say other than “I miss him so much. I feel so empty inside when we don’t speak.” etc.. What I say might make you scratch your head and wonder if I’ve truly lost my mind, or if one woman could honestly be this hung up on a man. No, and yes. I’m completely sane and reasonable, but yes, I am honestly this hung up on Edgar.

So, if I’m going to be true to myself, I will write about him. I will write about my feelings for him, my thoughts about him, and I won’t apologize to anyone (except perhaps myself, someday) for being a fool for him.

For the record, we’re not back together, we’re just friends. I will be just his friend if that is what he wants. Will I love him less? I doubt it. As I told Luk, Edgar’s friendship is priceless to me. When I don’t talk to him…it’s like part of me is not functioning.  I miss him to my very bones, and I know he misses me too, when we aren’t speaking. So, if I have to pretend (to be happy with just being friends) to make it easier for us to be ‘friends’ and talk, I will do that, because I love him. Maybe that’s just another way of not being true to myself, but I will gladly do it if it means that he will stay in my life, even if it’s just as friends.

Will it make me crazy to pull off such a charade? Maybe. Will I eventually grow tired of being his “friend” and hearing about how he’s moved on with his life? Probably. Will I burst his bubble and tell him how I really feel? Who’s to say that he doesn’t already know how I feel. If Luk sees right through me, maybe Edgar does as well.

Besides, since Edgar and I have started talking again, we haven’t had a single “serious” talk. Maybe we won’t. I can’t read his mind, and I don’t know what he thinks. I’ve got no idea if he’s happy to be just friends, or if he still loves me, too. You might wonder why I don’t just ask him…and the reason is two parts. First, if he’s happy to be just friends, I don’t want to make him worry that I’m still holding on to him, because it will put a blight on our friendship. Second, if he still loves me…I don’t know if either one of us is ready to go through another round.

I love him, adore him, and think he’s amazing, but I also think he’s rotten and spoiled and he drives me absolutely crazy. Even still, when I imagine my future, I see him in it. I can’t imagine loving someone else…and that’s not to say that maybe someday I won’t change my mind…but right now and for the foreseeable future, I can only hold this one man in my heart. Does he deserve it? No, maybe not. Does he want it? I don’t know. Will I give it anyway? Absolutely, if I’m going to be true to myself.

My consult with the surgeon was frightening but informative. She answered a lot of questions that have been rattling around in my head for a while, and while I’m still nervous…I feel a little more confident that I’ll be okay after the surgery.

My surgery is scheduled for December 17th. I’ll be home and off work until January 5th. She said I could go back sooner if I wanted, or stay home for a full six weeks if I wanted…that it’s completely up to me and how I feel. We talked about the surgery itself and how she has done it as a day procedure before, but that in my case she would prefer to keep me in the hospital at least two days.

She put me on birth control pills that I am to take continuously until surgery, because she is concerned about my anemia and said she would prefer to not have to do a transfusion during or after surgery. She also doubled my dose of iron, which, if you’ve ever taken iron…you know…I’m not very happy about it.

She also informed me that she is fairly certain that I’m not ovulating at all, which explains my slight weight gain, and pimples that have popped up on my face like a girl going through puberty. She said the birth control pills will make that stop. Someday…someone is going to figure out how estrogen, progesterone, and testosterone REALLY work…and we’re all going to be thin and beautiful with perfect skin. In the meantime…I’ll just have to deal with my fat ass and acne.

Finally, we discussed pregnancy. She broke it down into the simplest terms. If I plan to have any more children…I’ve got a window of about 5-6 years. Since I had my tubes tied, she said that I can expect to require in-vitro fertilization, because it’s simpler than trying to repair the fallopian tubes. I can reasonably expect to successfully carry twins to term, but more than two babies and my chances for uterine rupture increase from 10% to more than 30%. After three c-sections, and the upcoming surgery, any future pregnancy would end in yet another c-section, and likely no further pregnancies. So, ultimately, if I want to have any more babies…it’s a one-shot deal.

She did make a couple of suggestions “off the record.” She said if I traveled to another country that has socialized medicine, that I could have in-vitro done for far less than the $10-12,000 it costs here. The same goes for a sperm donor…if it comes to that. So yeah, I’m gonna go to Brazil and have myself a Brazilian baby….in a few years or so. haha

Anyway, now that she’s put me on birth control…the smoking issue is more important than ever. The risk of stroke or heart attack is super high if I smoke while on the pill, so…I’m done. Tomorrow.

I’ve got a little over six weeks to get myself physically and emotionally ready for this surgery. I can’t change my mind about it, because the problems that I’ve been having have reached a point where I can’t put off surgery any longer. After surgery, I’ll still have to deal with the anovulation, and the possibility of having to take birth control pills for an extended period of time until my body agrees to cooperate.

Now that the surgery is scheduled, I’d like to put it out of my mind for a while, but I seem to have an issue with putting anything out of my mind lately. I have, however, found that if I help others around me deal with their problems, I tend to forget about my own for a while. So, I’ve been focusing my attention on a friend with a broken heart…and it keeps me from thinking about mine. Avoidance. *sighs*

I’ve recently come to the conclusion that my need to love is greater than my need to be loved. I don’t know if it’s a woman thing, the ‘caretaker’ mentality, or if it’s just another way that I’m not quite right. Anyway, basically what it means is that I continue to love people even when they don’t love me. I can look back over the last fifteen years or so and see the pattern repeated over and over. I have continued to love each one of my exes far past the end of the relationship. (With one or two exceptions.)

I’m sure I had something else I wanted to write about, but it has escaped me, so I’ll have to edit later, or just write about it tomorrow. Tomorrow…Friday. Thank God.

Wow, I was a raging bitch all day today. At least three people made comments about it, and everyone was avoiding me as if I might be carrying a weapon in my handbag. I need no weapon, I’ve got a mouth. I had no tolerance for sarcasm, lowbrow humor, or any of the other antics that I deal with on a daily basis. By about three in the afternoon my mood had lightened a bit, but then I started fretting about the damn doctors appointment.

I swear I’m going to look the doctor straight in her face and lie to her that I’ve completely quit smoking. So I still smoke two or three cigarettes a day…that’s almost quit. Besides, by the time I have surgery, I’ll be completely quit and it will be a non issue. For the record, and I can be questioned about this later, I’m never going to smoke again. It’s a disgusting, unhealthy, and expensive habit…and I should have never picked it back up. (Following the quitters guide, I threw away all my ash trays and lighters today, and I’m not going to buy any more cigarettes. When the few I have left are gone…I’m done. I swear. I mean it. Honestly. REALLY.)

My tantrum from yesterday carried over to today. I just keep wanting to stomp my feet and say, in my most petulant voice, “But I don’t ask about him!!!” It’s not fair that he can ask about me and know things about me, when I’ve respected his decision and left him completely alone. I have things I want to know about him, but I don’t ask. I don’t poke around with people, asking questions, and nobody talks about him to me. Ugh, I’m obviously still being a baby.

And on the subject of exes, Joshua got the raw end of my shitty attitude today. He was just being himself (a horny bastard, aren’t they all?) … but I wasn’t in the mood to ignore or ‘lol’ his comments, and so I ripped into him, and I’m pretty sure he won’t ever speak to me again. I don’t know why he has been trying so hard to get back together with me after we had such a prolonged and strange breakup…but I’m pretty sure that he’s done trying now. I would apologize to him for being such a bitch, but he might take it as an invitation to continue his pursuit, and I just don’t want to deal with it.

In fifteen hours I’ll be sitting with the surgeon, discussing plans, and hoping she doesn’t want to do my surgery until December…2013 or so. Okay, so I’m being a big baby about a lot of things lately. What I really want is for everyone to pretend with me that I’m not going to have surgery, but instead everyone keeps asking me when the surgery is, and how I’m feeling, and if I’m scared. No, I’m not scared. She’s just going to cut my guts open and pull out a thing that’s growing where it shouldn’t, and then she’s going to stuff everything back in where it belongs and hope that it still works properly, and then put me back together and then shove me off into a hospital bed for three days. No big deal.

Maybe I can talk her into giving me bigger boobs while I’m under anesthesia.

There is a particular subject, or person, that I have avoided discussing lately. Mostly, I’ve not been talking about him because I know that you’re all tired of hearing about it. So, once I quit writing in the locked entries, I decided I would discuss him no longer.

However, I have this issue that is bugging the shit out of me and I really must vent about it, and that is what my blog is for.

First, Edgar and I don’t speak any longer. That was his choice, and since he said goodbye, I have made no attempts to contact him in any way, and he has not contacted me in any way. While I might disagree with his logic, and I haven’t been happy with the decision he made, I don’t have the heart to try and change his mind. Fine, whatever.

After we stopped talking, and I got the bitching and moaning out of my system, I decided I would quit talking about him as well. Not only do I not discuss him here, I very rarely bring him up in conversation. As a matter of fact, usually when he’s discussed, it’s because someone asks me about him…because they’re not aware of the situation. I always feel bad for the uncomfortable silence that follows my answer “I’m sorry, I don’t know how he’s doing, we don’t speak any longer.”

I have just two people that I speak freely with, one of them on a daily basis. The rest of the time I just keep my thoughts to myself, and I’m learning that it’s best if I just keep my mouth shut.

Here’s the issue: Edgar doesn’t talk to me, but he’s been asking questions to others about me. That’s great, that’s nice and sweet and lovely, he cares to know about me. Fine that he doesn’t want to talk to me…but it bugs the shit out of me that he’s asking my friends about me. Every time another person tells me that he asked about me, I feel as if I’ve lost a bit of trust for that person.

It’s not like I have any big secrets in my life, or anything I want to hide, or anything exciting going on. Fine that the people he’s asking about me are “mutual” friends, and he isn’t poking around with “my” friends, but it still bothers me. God, if he wants to know about me, he can read my blog like everyone else.

Am I being a baby?

For the “mutual” friends who read here…let me explain something, and I’ll make it plain so there’s no confusion:

I love Edgar. I’m not over Edgar. I won’t be over Edgar soon. I know that I haven’t talked about him except for maybe one or two comments…but just because his name isn’t on my lips doesn’t mean he isn’t in my head or in my heart.

That being said…I don’t want to know if he asks about me. It’s much easier for me to think that he doesn’t think of me at all. If he asks you about me and says “Don’t tell her…” that means don’t tell me. I may disagree with every other thought the man has, but on this one particular thing…I agree.

Anyway, I’m done ranting. I should have gotten it out of my system last night when I first blew my top about it…but I was too pissed off to write logically about it. I had all night and all day to sort it out, and I know I probably sound like I’m nitpicking, but it really bugs me.

Or I’m just PMSing.

Take your pick.

Another Monday, come and gone. I was actually happy to see this one, though. I kept myself busy all weekend, running here and there and smiling at smiling faces.

On Sunday I made another trip to the library, and with one wrong turn I was confronted with the Murrah Federal Building memorial site. It was all I could do to get past it without running into the cars parked on either side of the road. Honestly, it shouldn’t affect me this way, but I couldn’t catch my breath until I was well past it. I think, some day soon, I’ll have to make myself go there and confront it head on. Apparently it’s grown into quite a monster in my mind, and I don’t like to be controlled by my fears this way.

Tomorrow is my oldest sons birthday, and I want to celebrate the day in a way that is meaningful to me. However, I feel this lurking sadness, and in a way I hope that when I wake up in the morning I don’t remember right away what the date is. I think if I can get out of bed and get to work before I remember…that I’ll be okay. Otherwise, I have a feeling I’ll wake up with bricks tied to my heart…and I won’t want to go to work at all.

I’ve not allowed myself to feel sadness lately. If I feel even the slightest twinge of upset, I force myself past the moment, and occupy my thoughts with positive, happy things. I’ve surrounded myself with bright and happy people, and I’ve kept my mind and my body active so I don’t feel as if I’m being consumed by my thoughts.

I’ve got so much more I want to say and so much more to write about but 1) I took something to help me sleep and I’m already feeling as if I could sleep right here at this computer, 2) I want to write about a dream I had (and the interpretation a friend gave me) but…back to 1 again, and 3) if I write about things then I can’t unwrite them later, and thinking them is difficult enough, but writing about them (or saying them) makes them more real than I want them to be.

Anyway, now that I’m not making sense to anyone but myself, I think I’ll sleep and dream of the boys who hold my heart.

A couple of years ago I met a really amazing man from Poland. Bart is serious and sweet and one of the most honest people I’ve ever met in my life. We used to have amazing conversations about deep subjects that seemed so random, but his insight and ideals made the conversations interesting.

It didn’t take me long to realize that one of Barts best qualities was his ability to keep a secret. He also never forgot a secret. I could tell him something…and six months later bring it up again and he would still remember. Whenever I had something keeping me awake at night I could spill it out to Bart, he would give me his two cents (or more)…and then I would feel as if my burden had been lifted.

Life has pulled us in different directions, and I rarely get to talk to Bart anymore…but every now and then I have a secret that I feel I can’t tell anyone, and without my secret keeper…I’ve had to keep the secrets inside. That’s a heavy load for someone who thinks about things entirely too much.

Today…I found a new secret keeper! He’s also sweet and serious, and extremely honest. I guess it comforts me when he tells me his own secrets, because usually people who are willing to trust others with their own secrets know how important it is to keep a secret. That’s Jeff in a nutshell.

He let me unload my secrets for twenty minutes…and then later told me “You’re so level headed and down to earth.”  Haha. If he only knew how NOT levelheaded I am, and how far off the ground my feet truly are…he wouldn’t think so highly of me.

Anyway, now that I’ve been unburdened, I was expecting to be able to fall soundly asleep without trouble…but it seems that talking about my secrets has put them in the front of my mind instead of the back of my mind where I usually keep them. I think I might be out of practice at this secret telling business.

In other random news…I’m meeting Charlie for coffee tomorrow. He suggested a place, but I suggested another one…I feel this need to be extra cautious when meeting him. He’s older than I am, and he’s pretty slick with his words, and I have this feeling he’s going to be a tool. So why am I meeting him? I’m not sure. Maybe because I’m tired of being a chicken and if I meet him then maybe I’ll get over my phobia about meeting people.

Or maybe I’ll be on the news tomorrow night.

That’s okay, if anything happens to me…Jeff has my secrets! Haha.

I started out this weekend thinking I might have a date on Saturday with a guy named Eric that I’ve known (online) for several years. I had a simple criteria for whether or not I would say yes. All he had to do was have a plan. It was, in theory, a great idea. I just wanted him to say “Hey, lets go have dinner and watch a movie.” or maybe “Would you like to go cruise around Lake Hefner?” or anything. I just didn’t want him to say “You wanna go do something?”

I’m not being picky, it’s just that something usually ends up with “You wanna go back to my place?”  I’m not wholly opposed to that, it’s just that I don’t want that to be the only thing on his mind. Apparently, though, it is the only thing on his mind, because when he called me he said “You wanna watch a movie at my house?” “What movie?” I asked. “I dunno, whatever’s on t.v.” he replied. Ugh.

So, yeah, I told him that I’d get back with him, and then decided to read a book.

The Lovely Bones. Wow. Honestly, one of the best books I’ve ever read. Heaven, according to the author, is nothing like the heaven that is taught in the Bible. Even still, I loved this version of Heaven, and found myself wondering if maybe the afterlife might be something other than cherubs and harps and an eternal feast of celebration. I can’t wait for the movie to come out.

I spent Saturday talking to Joseph (who insists on being called Joey), and Charles (who insists on being called Charlie.) I think there comes a certain point, maybe after…30…that a man should stop using names that end in “ie” or “ey.” For example, Mikey is okay for a 20 year old…but when you’re 38, Mikey just doesn’t cut it any longer.

I swear, again, I’m not being picky!

Okay, maybe I’m being picky. I probably could find something wrong with “Mr. Right” if he came and knocked on my door with a velvet-covered box in one hand and a dozen red roses in the other. Anyway, I don’t see Sean Connery coming to Oklahoma any time soon, so I am entertaining myself with men who use little boy names until they realize they’re not little boys anymore.

Charlie has a brilliant take on love and relationships. His philosophy is that one should love their partner more than they love themselves, and if each partner adopts this attitude…that both partners will have their needs met. Mutually loving, respecting, and pleasing each other is a great idea, but does anybody else think that Charlie sounds too good to be true? I’ll find out later this week, because I agreed to meet him for coffee. I guess if he doesn’t bring his mother along then that’s a plus, right?

Joey just recently moved back to Oklahoma after living on the East coast for several years. The great thing about Joey is that he’s not looking for a relationship, but he’s looking for a deep and meaningful friendship that can teach him about relationships. So, basically, he’s looking for a female best friend that he can spend lots of time with…who will eventually fall in love with him…and then he will suddenly realize he’s in love with “Bethany”, his Junior High sweetheart. The thing is, I’m not attracted to him, so I can BE his friend and not fall in love with him.

Maybe I should introduce Joey and Charlie to each other. They can share their ideas with each other…then introduce each other to their friends…and I won’t have to have coffee or margaritas with either one of them. (Nevermind that I promised my dad that I would leave my apartment in daytime hours for some reason other than work.)

On Sunday (today) I woke up with a blinding headache and decided I wouldn’t move from my bed until the headache was gone. I took Ibuprofen, drank a half a gallon of water and tried to sleep. I’m not sure what happened, but at some point I nearly bit the tip of my tongue off…and then couldn’t go back to sleep because I was worried I might bleed to death. (Do people get stitches in their tongue?) When I finally stopped bleeding, I realized that the pain in my tongue suddenly made the headache disappear…and I was strangely grateful.

I sucked on ice chips and watched Donnie Darko. It wasn’t what I expected. I guess I was expecting a horror film, and it’s certainly not that. It reminded me of The Butterfly Effect, with one small exception. Holy crap. I wasn’t really a Gyllenhaalic before, I just thought he was kinda cute…but now. Mercy. Oh, but this was about the movie. Great movie. It was so much better than what I had been led to believe. The guy at Blockbuster had made it sound as if the movie had been overhyped and that it wasn’t that big of a deal. I guess either I’m a sucker for a cult classic, or the movie really is that good. Anyway, I loved it.

Okay, before I end this…if anyone is still reading…does anybody else bite their tongue while they’re sleeping? This seems to happen to me quite frequently, but today is the first time that I recall biting my tongue “through and through.” Literally, I had a hole in my tongue that went all the way through. I know my mom used to have to wear a mouth guard because she grinds her teeth while she sleeps…and while I would wear one if I had to…I’d really rather not. So, any tongue biters?

That might be the most random thing ever said in my blog.