So, hmm. Scene Six, Take Two.

Well hell's belles.

Okay. So this is what happened again. I deleted some about it, but over the last couple weeks I've just been kinda bubbling up again, on the lemon-gin-fi33-that-is... I've-

I've been doing other stuff, too. I'm going out with a 3illionaire. His address isn't even a real address. I met him at that party I went to with the necro. And we've gone out twice. Haven't really kissed him yet, clearly, NO interest-- but we've gone out twice. And will on Friday. Probably. He is actually- and I know I've said this, but I do mean it this time- really kinda brilliant, and kinda awesome, but, I am just not attracted. I am just not. Not when I've got Dr. Drrr-r-reamy-ohmygod-shutup-nowaythatsyourshrink-he'sgorgeous-says-every-girlfriend-I've-linked-to-his website to satiate their curiousity, fuck, sitting at me like that.

He sat so close to me last week. I touched his leg. Not even by accident. Not even by pretend-accident. Just one of those, like, "Oh my god I KNOW!" things where you touch the person, to more emphatically relate on a point. And he kinda tapped me back, with his foot. When I was like, "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just like--" and did it again. And then he moved his feet away. I mourned on the inside.

And THEN, a minute after THAT, he moved them back. Closer. So our feet were touching. For a few minutes. And I had to pretend four of my six stomachs weren't doing the cumbia.

He has a huge, roomy office. No need to be up on me like that.

And those last couple weeks were straight BAR-CHAT. Jokes and movie recommendations and restaurant recommendations and even [no] religion & politics [at the bar]. I've gone to three of his restaurant recommendations in the last week. He's like-- marking his territory. Cu3 I'm not gonna think of anything else now, at those places, in my (and his) neighborhood. And I've seen two of his movies and have the next two in my Netflix queue and-- he's got one of mine now. One I bought. That I lent him. Ayup. Got it indefinitely. Scented version. Hahahaha. That shit is CKOne'd out of its goddamn mind believe me.

But, so, all that being said. I am still, not, anything, clearly, with him, and, still, doubt that I ever will be (as in, there is doubt, not as in, I totally doubt), so, yeah, I drank myself UTTERLY STUPID over the last few days, everyone, I apologi3e, and, well, I was really upset, because, like, this is happening again, where I just can't not-say-anything-anymore, it's the same thing, again, so, now, I wrote him, that little thing I posted about my dream, but, also, something substantially longer, a little more direct (but not much. This is direct as I get.) and I saw him today, and, didn't say anything, but was not all cheery like I have been, and he said so, and there was a little bit of restaurant and movie talk but then it sorta stopped, like it always does when I'm feelin' weird, because, well, it's Julian, I'm not putting on a show for him and he knows I'm a wackjob. And he knows I'm not.

The final flirt.

I'm actually getting upset again thinking about tomorrow, and how I'll feel after tomorrow... Not because I'll feel worse about anything, but just because I won't feel better enough, and I'll have four days to deal with... And I feel kind of horrible, and not-okay morally even-- throwing myself at him like that and telling him I wanted to "tremble and scream in [his] Jag"... Which, omg, IS his car... Tuesday, before he told me he was not interested, that he would never, that I was dreaming, he had to admit I was right about the uncanny things I end up being right about, that I don't even give a second thought.... (and that are NEVER of any consequence either.)...

"God... I'm.. Sorry about that letter... That's totally not even your--"

"It's my car."

"Oh!" I laughed. "Obviously... It's so obvious."

"Right. ...I hate having a spot in front of the building; everyone in this neighborhood needs like, a Prius..."

"Its a hot car; I've been admiring it for ages, I knew it was yours..."

He shifted in his seat.

"So was I right about the birthday too?" I asked, half-joking.

"Oh, well, what did you give yourself there, a 5-month, 4-month range?"

"Well yeah, I said I'd wanna tack on August, but I really only-"

"-ANYWAY!" he said, actually cutting me OFF to change the subject. Wow. Obviously I nailed it.

June or July...

But what does it matter. My beautiful Julian. No more flirting. I was so wrong about so much for so long. And I still.

Love.

Him.

And Julian.

And I walked into his office.

And again I got happy, weak in the knees, excited. He was so sweet... He was, he was in admiration... I don't know why I thought that because he made the appointment everything had changed... we talked about the article and my classes... And he told me a lot of personal-ish things... Career personal... and theories... and I was rapt and then I fell silent... and I switched seats... so we sat closer... and my body ached for him... and he said, "You look so pensive..." And he said "You need to be able to speak freely..." And he said,

"Okay, I wasn't going to bail you out, but you asked if I was being sarcastic... and no, I wasn't... I just realized as soon as I said that, that it was a gimmick, and cliche, and I didn't want to say it, it just seemed like the thing to say, it was... I think it was coming from a good place... but it was... well not necessarily clumsy, maybe clumsy, well it was a bad endeavor, so, I apologize for that, I'm glad you called me on it... And there were many other things I said on Tuesday that were... forced... I won't say those things anymore..."

"I'd rather you didn't, because they don't work, and I recognize the gimmick, and-"

"I know, I'm sorry... You're staring..."

"Sorry..." I said, and my body was burning so hard.... "I'm just, I'm physically distracted... I don't even have thoughts. I'm just... looking... I'm eating ice cream..." I said.

"Okay," he paused. "But there's always a direction of thought... I don't want to make you talk about anything, but what happens is now, you come in, and then you just stop, the dialogue stops, so... You're saying it's pointless to say those things you write... But don't you think it might be more beneficial than saying nothing at all?"

I laughed.

"You're very articulate when you write and... And I don't mind the e-mails, I'm glad you're telling me how you feel, but it's like you always say it after you leave... I just think instead of carrying on these two separate conversations, it might be valuable to say some of those things in here, where I can respond to them, right?"

"Right... Bail me out Julian..."

"Well the clock might bail you out soon--"

"I don't want the clock to bail me out."

"Oh, well... Why don't you think of a question you'd want to address, just so that you're not constraining yourself--"

"I have to constrain myself." I blurted out dead serious staring at the floor.

He laughed.

"Are you just like, oh god, this girl on my couch that'll never leave, stammering here about-"

He looked at me and shook his head and mouth 'no.'

"What you said on Tuesday about maybe it's good that I'm attracted to you since it shows I'm no longer looking for-"

"Ineffectual basement dwellers..."

"Hah, yes. Well... it was just..."

"It was clumsy and forced, it was one of those cliches, and I'm sorry I said it."

"Yes."

"I concede that. Was that what you wanted to say?"

"Yeah, it pissed me off..."

"Good."

And then the clock bailed me out, and I said, Okay, and he said, okay, and I took a breath on the couch, and I got up and stood really close to him for a second, closer than I ever have and then mouthed 'Bye.'

Wow...

I like J's article. Rumi Nation. I am definitely I am a ruminator. And I realized today I kept saying, "Because I wouldn't just be TALKING to you now," "because I wouldn't be sitting here and just TALKING to you, you know?" "Because we wouldn't just be sitting here together alone and talking to each other like this you know what I mean?" and he was looking at me like WHAT so I kept repeating it and now that I've had an alternate fantasy conversation with him in which I actually say, I don't want to say anything I don't want to TALK to you right now-- meaning I want to like just everything else already-- well, now I realize what it sounded like I was saying... Hah! OMG.

I didn't even mean that- well I guess it was a Freudian slip type of thing- I was just trying to explain that like these "what-if's" were irrelevant because IF in fact they were the case I'd have long ago not been, like he was like, What if I was gay, and I was thinking, I wouldn't have kept talking to you like this privately, intimately, alone, four times a week for six months? Or if he were married, or I knew he were in a relationship, or anything, like, in other circumstance, it just wouldn't happen... though... the other interpretation is pretty much the same idea. And equally true. Ha. I'm gonna pretend I did mean that. Ha. Imagine.