Day two of having no boy friend, even though he wasn’t actually a boy friend because he told me so. Not feeling quite as good as I felt yesterday. Wondering if I was just too eager to say goodbye. I know, deep down, that it was the right decision but I just miss talking to him. I see him out there in face book land and I want to say hi but daren’t. I just don’t want to get sucked into our weird co-dependent, obsessive love affair that has no name.
I had dinner with a friend yesterday evening but I really could not summon the energy to engage. Almost fell asleep at the table. Everything he said irritated me. That night I had more erotic dreams about you-know-who. I can only imagine having sex with him. The idea of just taking my clothes off in front of another man fills me with icy horror.
Dane came by and massaged my back until I fell asleep. I like that he blows out the candles, turns out the lights and locks the door when he leaves.
This morning went to Palisades’s men’s meeting-full of monstrous egos and bad hair plugs. One particularly vile Hollywood agent sitting smugly on his fat ass. He isn’t really fat; he’s just pudgy really, like a Rubens nude. Solid fat, not the kind of fat that squidges. Firm fat but FAT all the same. Not ‘precious’ fat. Not morbidly obese either. Just enough fat, that one thinks ‘I might catch the fat’, like a disease. Thankfully he kept his mouth shut.
I don’t know what I would do if he were brave enough to get onto an airplane and come to me. I think I might just forgive him-which is stupid as he obviously has a drug and alcohol problem. Oh FUCK!! It’s so damned hard to fall out of love when you don’t have a big bottle of whiskey to wipe the slate clean.
Party tonight, parties all weekend. Can I really be bothered? I should be mourning the loss of my non existent boyfriend.