Not-lover aka C writes. Funny message about his job at that famous college down in the Peninsula. He works there. I have a history with that college as well. Therefore not surprisingly he'd work there. I have an well known, well established pattern.
He's in a good mood because I wrote back. I like writing. Correspondence is good. I like correspondence more than anything else. I was surprised that he wrote back today because I know he's busy. I think it's because I mean something. I'm new. Every man likes the beginning. I do too. The beginning is fun. Then I get bored. Each and every time. With some minor exceptions. Like Plan B. Like the famed journalist.
It appears C knows a lot of things. He tells me about his day at work. He tells me what he's working on at night, his project is his project. He's a brilliant, absolutely brilliant man. I love brilliance. That's my thing. Brilliant man who is also kinky? That would have topped my list. Left hand, plus. Moved from Boston, that will seal the deal. If there is a deal to be sealed.
I think perhaps I've been so hung up because my ex boyfriend, the left handed guy who I almost nearly married, the guy I'd probably still be happily married to, had decided after his grad school in Cambridge, MA, that he would take a job in Manhattan instead of moving back to SF, and ever since then I've been trying to rewrite a past that was irreversible. It was a fact. Thus dated men from the same circumstance who decided to move back, one after another, eventually married a man who came back to SF to work after Cambridge, MA.
C wants to make dinner and pour drinks for me again. Ask me when I'm back and when I'd be available. C happily gave phone number for me to call him at. C says that he would be so busy throughout this week, but then afterwards I'd be back. I'm his highlight and his priority.
And I'm in charge. I like being in charge. To some extent. I like being chased, and I like the beginning. It does not mean that I will be interested, but I like the feeling of being chased. It's just in the head. I do not, however, want to break his heart. I'm good at this heart breaking business. That's what you do after you've been heart broken for a few times.
C writes so eloquently. Describing his campus cafeteria. C has a cult following. I think he does not care about the followers. He likes me because I'm not available. I'm not available, and I'm screwed up in the head. I told him that I'm bipolar, came off a heart broken situation. C likes to fix people. C likes to chase because C is a brilliant man who is in awe with me, someone whom he's attracted to and someone whom he admires. Someone who is different, so incredibly smart, so unlike others. Even though I'm a little crazy.
I would have started writing to C if he was not brilliant or left handed. I liked left handed men. C grew up in the city where my ex went to college. C is quirky, into photography, and thinks in shapes and color. C likes to read, lots of non fiction, C likes to tell me about his life. His daily routine. I have only seen this type of men twice, I married the first one.
I don't want to break C's heart.
I have to keep on telling C that I like him as a friend. I like that he's brilliant. I love brilliance. But I can't break anyone's heart. It would be cruel.
C wants me to call him tonight. Maybe, maybe not. 650 number. I know the school well. I had been broken hearted with a man who was doing a fellowship there. I was 22 and he was the love of my life. Now we are on linkedin.
I want C to make me a pipe to smoke pot in. I think that would be so cool. I think C wants me to meet his friends. Be seen with me. I don't want to meet his fans. I think that's too much risks to take. C rides his bike around everywhere. I like his bike.
His life is so predicable. He wants me to be part of his life.
So sweet. So new. So not-going-to-lead-anywhere.
I wonder sometimes if I'd run into that man again. I hurt his ego too. He too was from Boston. He too moved here. I told a big fat lie. He was into me for a while, wanted to see me. Then I stopped seeing him and he stopped seeing me. Then one day I told him that I only saw him because I was hurt by the man I was in love with. I wonder sometimes if he thinks I am messed up. I wonder if he misses me sometimes. But he's a footnote. Footnote should only be wondered once in a great while.
And then you have to move on. You can't be hurt forever. You can't park your emotions on those people who hurt you.
This is what I know.
The weather is going to warm up soon. I bought a pair of earrings, it matches the necklace B bought for me during Christmas. I miss B, but I can't linger and expect B to miss me. He's moved on. I must too.
It's almost 7 PM. I am exhausted. I think I'll crash early tonight. I may or may not call C.
He's in a good mood because I wrote back. I like writing. Correspondence is good. I like correspondence more than anything else. I was surprised that he wrote back today because I know he's busy. I think it's because I mean something. I'm new. Every man likes the beginning. I do too. The beginning is fun. Then I get bored. Each and every time. With some minor exceptions. Like Plan B. Like the famed journalist.
It appears C knows a lot of things. He tells me about his day at work. He tells me what he's working on at night, his project is his project. He's a brilliant, absolutely brilliant man. I love brilliance. That's my thing. Brilliant man who is also kinky? That would have topped my list. Left hand, plus. Moved from Boston, that will seal the deal. If there is a deal to be sealed.
I think perhaps I've been so hung up because my ex boyfriend, the left handed guy who I almost nearly married, the guy I'd probably still be happily married to, had decided after his grad school in Cambridge, MA, that he would take a job in Manhattan instead of moving back to SF, and ever since then I've been trying to rewrite a past that was irreversible. It was a fact. Thus dated men from the same circumstance who decided to move back, one after another, eventually married a man who came back to SF to work after Cambridge, MA.
C wants to make dinner and pour drinks for me again. Ask me when I'm back and when I'd be available. C happily gave phone number for me to call him at. C says that he would be so busy throughout this week, but then afterwards I'd be back. I'm his highlight and his priority.
And I'm in charge. I like being in charge. To some extent. I like being chased, and I like the beginning. It does not mean that I will be interested, but I like the feeling of being chased. It's just in the head. I do not, however, want to break his heart. I'm good at this heart breaking business. That's what you do after you've been heart broken for a few times.
C writes so eloquently. Describing his campus cafeteria. C has a cult following. I think he does not care about the followers. He likes me because I'm not available. I'm not available, and I'm screwed up in the head. I told him that I'm bipolar, came off a heart broken situation. C likes to fix people. C likes to chase because C is a brilliant man who is in awe with me, someone whom he's attracted to and someone whom he admires. Someone who is different, so incredibly smart, so unlike others. Even though I'm a little crazy.
I would have started writing to C if he was not brilliant or left handed. I liked left handed men. C grew up in the city where my ex went to college. C is quirky, into photography, and thinks in shapes and color. C likes to read, lots of non fiction, C likes to tell me about his life. His daily routine. I have only seen this type of men twice, I married the first one.
I don't want to break C's heart.
I have to keep on telling C that I like him as a friend. I like that he's brilliant. I love brilliance. But I can't break anyone's heart. It would be cruel.
C wants me to call him tonight. Maybe, maybe not. 650 number. I know the school well. I had been broken hearted with a man who was doing a fellowship there. I was 22 and he was the love of my life. Now we are on linkedin.
I want C to make me a pipe to smoke pot in. I think that would be so cool. I think C wants me to meet his friends. Be seen with me. I don't want to meet his fans. I think that's too much risks to take. C rides his bike around everywhere. I like his bike.
His life is so predicable. He wants me to be part of his life.
So sweet. So new. So not-going-to-lead-anywhere.
I wonder sometimes if I'd run into that man again. I hurt his ego too. He too was from Boston. He too moved here. I told a big fat lie. He was into me for a while, wanted to see me. Then I stopped seeing him and he stopped seeing me. Then one day I told him that I only saw him because I was hurt by the man I was in love with. I wonder sometimes if he thinks I am messed up. I wonder if he misses me sometimes. But he's a footnote. Footnote should only be wondered once in a great while.
And then you have to move on. You can't be hurt forever. You can't park your emotions on those people who hurt you.
This is what I know.
The weather is going to warm up soon. I bought a pair of earrings, it matches the necklace B bought for me during Christmas. I miss B, but I can't linger and expect B to miss me. He's moved on. I must too.
It's almost 7 PM. I am exhausted. I think I'll crash early tonight. I may or may not call C.
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