Office Musings

None of the blog circle read my most recent post.

But EG did. And he freaked out. Because I'm a psychopath.

And I learned something again.

He's always right.

I also learned that I love him more than I thought I did.

It really did sound like I'm not happy, like I want more.

I don't want more for now. I'm happy for now. But I managed to make him understand that the fear kicks in because I know the exact date when I won't be happy anymore.

I wrote all that because a) I wanted to get it out, and indeed, I didn't really think of it since I wrote it, and b) I'm trying not to give all the marvelous details. I'm trying to add a little mystique to this experience. I can't tell you all what the sex is like. I just can't, it's too good. I can't tell you what sleeping with him or waking with him is like. It's too amazing. I can't tell you how fucking fantastic it feels every time he kisses me in thanks for a meal, or holds my hand, or laughs at my accent, or makes me laugh like a child, or shows me his dissertation, or looks at me.

It's too perfect to discuss. I'm just living it.

Well, not now, now I'm at work, wishing I was at home with him. I hope I can leave early, his smell is starting to leave my senses and I want it back in there. I want to immerse myself in all things English Gentleman until the second he has to leave me. 

I will not think about that moment until that moment.

I will not break down until then.

Just a Girl

Just as I predicted. I'm in heaven.

Pure bliss.

Interrupted occasionally with near tear experiences triggered by sudden fear of never seeing this perfect man ever again, or the terrifying fact that he says I'm "the best," something my ex insisted on saying in lieu of "I love you."

I've had friends explain why I neeeeeed to hear the words. I've had friends say it's unimportant, and I've had friends look immediately bewildered, angry and worried upon learning he hasn't said it yet.

I want not to neeeeeed him to say it. But I want him to say it. Will it solve all my problems if he simply says it? If I hear him say it, will it make me believe he'll want to see me again? That he'll try to see me again? That he'll want to move here? That he'll continue to keep me wet all day long and fuck me mercilessly all my life? That he'll support me forever and keep me warm and safe in his big arms for as long as we both shall live?

I don't think so. I would not expect all those things if he told me he loved me. So why does he feel all the pressure? Is that the problem? That he feels pressure? I'm pretty pushy about this, I guess. I scared the last one. But this one's different. He doesn't scare so easily.

So what's the problem? Does he not love me? Has he met me? What's not to love?

Does he just not say it? To anyone, ever? If we get to be together forever, I wouldn't mind if he never said it.

So someone remind me why I neeeeed to hear it? He's HERE. It was hell to get him here, on my side and on his. He's happy here. Happy with me.

Qu'est-ce que fuck is my problem?????

But also, qu'est-ce que fuck is his problem? Why won't he just say it????? This is agony! Looking up into his perfect light marble blue eyes and watching him kiss my hand with the softest deep pink plush lips in the world, hearing his views on anything, the fact that he makes football seem like an art, the fact that he worships my voice, tells me never to let anyone make me feel bad because I'm an "amazing woman," reading his brilliant paper, his arrogance, his wonky tooth, his accent, his manners, his mannerisms, his long body, his nakedness, his dick, his nose, his gifts, his surprises, his sharpness, his softness, his oohs, his kisses.

The best kind of agony, but agony nonetheless.

That makes it sound like not heaven, not bliss. It is heaven, it is bliss.

I'm just a girl.

A Little More Action

Sex sex sex. That's what's on my mind. The sex part of EG's Great Canadian Food Sex and Football Christmas Adventure is exciting me to no end. I have been looking up games online, positions in books, thinking of my own fun mystery objects, treats and activities!

If any of you are feeling particularly sexual, wanna give me some ideas? Tips? Games? Positions? Anything is welcome and just waiting to be tried!

I can't wait to have sex with EG! A million times a day please. If he's not eating or watching football, he should be fucking me. That's the rule of this trip.

I really am going to be sore by the end of this...

Drunken Texts, Censorship and Body Odour

 I just wrote a lot only to delete it all realising I haven't blogged certain details that might be crucial to this rant.

So about two weeks ago, I saw Enchanted (best movie ever!) and instantly felt like a lovely, innocent, naive princess who believes whole heartedly in true, true love who suddenly finds herself in the "real world" where there are no happy endings. I didn't want to make EG suffer my insanity, so I decided to get really drunk and text my ex, yelling at him for saying he was "still very much in love" with me. I thought I had a good reason! I was scared that it was going to be like that with all boys! That they would freak out when I said the dreaded word, and then when I had enough of their fear and reluctance, they would suddenly realise that they loved me more than life itself. That's a horrible fate! So I thought if I could yell at my ex, I'd purge myself of that fear and be able to believe in true, true love without doubt, no matter how little the object of my desire says. He is a big strong man after all, I don't want a pansy. 

Follow? I wouldn't blame you if you said no.

So I start texting him and he texts back all offended and REASONABLE! What the hell right does he have to be rational and logical and reasonable when I want a fight?!? Anyway, he made some really good points, but I still think I'm right. He said he thinks it's right that we're not together but he's still in love with me. I say, that's not love. He said I had no right to claim I'm the only one who knows what love is, and that there are different kinds of love. Okay, but isn't it pretty straight forward at least on one point: If you love someone, you want to be with them! He doesn't love me, not in any big way, or else he'd fight for me. I'm right here! If you love me, then you want to be with me! If you don't want to be with me, then you don't love me! Jeez. 

Anyway, at around 3am our time, 8am England time, I get a call from EG! I was so excited "EG!" I cried, "You called me when you woke up! How lovely!" and he said, in his beautiful English Accent: "I just got this text. It says 'Because I'm drunk and it's true. And I want to deal with this with you so I don't have to deal with it with EG.' What does that mean?" INSTANT TEARS. I explained everything and he was very upset but the conversation ended with him making me giggle and we're fine now. Better than fine! He's coming soon!  I'm so excited! Anyway, I kept getting more texts from my ex and I finally sent back "forget it, I'm done." 

Bitch, I know.

He said "okay, I hope everything works out for you and if you want to try again to be friends someday, just let me know."

Asshole, right?

So! The other day, I got an email from my ex saying he was in Montreal doing his LSATs and he was feeling lonely so he checked my facebook (big mistake) and it made him sad, and then he read ALL my blogs since we broke up. WTF! The crazy thing is that he said it made him feel better! He understands now! He understands everything! He said he gets what I wanted and how he couldn't give it to me and he hopes he can find what I found one day! What a weirdo. But what a relief! Anyway, I definitely have to send him a HUGE apology for being such a bitch.

What I wanted to discuss was censorship. We're about due for another censorship discussion, right?

Is blogging when you don't want someone to read your blog just as bad as talking behind someone's back? But it's not like gossip because it's about me! How I feel about someone! But knowing he's could very possibly read this, is it wrong to post something that will surely offend him? I like getting my feelings out this way, via blog. It makes little passing thoughts into momentous events preserved forever on the world wide web. It's as close as I'm going to get to immortality, and I want a little piece of that. I'd rather keep a scrapbook containing millions of little things or big things or medium things than forget it all. I'd rather keep memoirs in blog form than keep these thoughts to myself. I need to clean out my head and read what was in there in a pretty purple font on a pink page followed by funny or helpful comments from those whose opinions I value.

So I'm gonna go with No, it's not wrong. I'm easily swayed to the argument that lets me do what I want. 

Here's what I wanted to say.

I work with my ex's brother. I don't know if this is possible, but they are EXACTLY the same person. Is it possible? It can't be. Each calls the other "weird" but I have not observed ONE difference in personality, mannerisms, voice, smell, idiosyncrasies. It's insane. 

Now, here's the funny thing. 

About a month ago, said brother's smell made me feel a little sad and nostalgic. The smell of his sweater, really. My ex's laundry was always the best. Perfect boyfriend sweaters, the kind you just want to steal. The brother's body odor (gross as it sounds) used to make me feel sad and nostalgic too. Like a fond sigh remembering good times. 

Now, everything he says and does and smells like makes me want to scream! Okay, not that extreme, but bro just walked by and his smell made me nauseous. How is that possible? How did I become so disgusted by something that used to make me excited, happy, wet, comfortable, sad and nostalgic? 

I don't understand it. I just wanted to fill the world in on what walking by can do to a person. We are powerful!

what do you want from me?/is that so much to ask?

What do you want from me? My last post was super serious! I feel like I have nothing just because I don't have any money! For people who have it, or who are getting by, it may not seem like anything, it may seem funny that I'm counting pennies to take the subway, that I'm avoiding my roommates, some friends, the bank, the creditors and my own poor mother, that I'm going into banks and begging for loans that they shouldn't give me, that I'm lying to EVERYONE about anything to do with money and hurting people who don't deserve it in the process. But it's not funny at all. It's devastating.

I really feel like I've hit rock bottom, but the worst part is, there's far lower to go! I could get myself and my roommates evicted and have to live with my mom who has no room for me. And she doesn't really have to take me in because I, for lack of a more fitting word, steal from her. Consistently. And she can't afford me anyway. So there is lower to go and I'm afraid that there's some ridiculous Karma rule that I have to end up as low as I can go before I'm allowed to get better again. Not better, not again, I've never been good. I mean I have to hit the bottom before I can rise up a little for the first time. I know what to do now, really. I'm a law clerk! I make money! But I can't catch up! I don't know what to do to get myself to the point where I can do what I know to do. You know?

I talk a lot about winning the lottery, being a trophy wife, a gazillionaire. Oh the things I could do! I could own a private jet and see EG whenever I wanted! I could take my best friends on shopping sprees around the world! I could start a theatre, a warrior princesse TV show, a movie production company, a children's book store, a music label, a campaign against directors who only cast skinny people! I could get a personal trainer, a nutritionist, a personal chef, a stylist, a tailor! I could have a castle that comes to life with the wave of a wand and choice latin words spoken only in my voice. I could have a condo in Toronto, London, New York, a cottage in BC, on the Isle of Wight, somewhere in New Zealand...

I could have all those things, but I'm not asking for them. I just want to start fresh. I just want to be at zero.

Is that so much to ask?