The List

I've been working on the list. I suppose it should be some kind of victory list, but it's become sad. The initial list of everyone I've ever slept with started out as a therapeutic tool of dealing with my past and hopefully, putting it to rest. Instead, it awoke a lot of buried memories. It sits on my desk written on the back of an envelope with my work healthcare benefits information inside. Every time I walk past it I remember another girl that I forgot about. The most recent was "Paralegal who said she didn't have a gag reflex (liar)" and another one "I think her name was Tina." We'll call her Trina to keep her anonymous.

She was the only blind date that I have ever gone on in my life. The first night we ever hung out we went downtown and shared some appetizers and cocktails. She had a good sense of humor and was cute and surprisingly, over 30. After two hours, she said "I've got to go meet friends in the city."

I thought this was her making an escape until she followed it up with, "I'd love for you to go with me."

I agreed to go. We went to the Elbo Room which was a bar from my youth. That place awakens so many memories, it's ridiculous. Being nineteen with a fake ID and listening to the best music on weeknights and then chasing it with a quesadilla suiza and two tacos al pastor from El Farolito at 3:00 AM. Driving home wasted and still feeling invincible. Not a care in the world, but a love of nice times and good music. I was there on my twenty first birthday and asked the bartender if I got a free drink and she said, "Dude. You've been coming here three nights a week for two years."

So, we got there and it was reggae night. The contact high was ridiculous. I met her friends and was charming and nice and really got along with everyone. She drove me home with a slight buzz and I didn't invite her in. I think I was kinda buying into it. She was just normal. I was looking for that at the time. We later talked about it and she said that she thought it was weird I didn't try anything and I told her it was because I respected her.

A week later I met her and her friends at a pub quiz night. I fuckin' rule at pub quiz. I drank too much and she gave me a ride to her house where I stayed for the night. We got along well. The next morning I showered and wore my yesterday clothes to work after she drove me to my car. The work of shame.

So, shit was good. She was mature. She was thin. She had good hair. She smelled nice. She adored me. I could feel it. She walked around in a silk robe in the morning and just glided around her room while I was slowly waking up and grabbing glimpses in between fighting seizing the day and ceasing the day.

The next time we hung out was at home with some of my friends. It started at a Mexican restaurant with a group of my friends where we created a temporary shortage of margaritas for the country of Mexico. I heard NAFTA had to change some tariff regulations to get it back to acceptable levels. We went to my home bar where I have CDs in the jukebox. We drank cocktails. I ingested horny goat weed from the vending machine in the ladies restroom and then we headed back to my apartment with everyone. It was a vortex of chaos.

At some point, I said something to her and she got pissed and walked out of the apartment. I looked at Pappy with my back to the front door and said "Fuck it, dude. That shit wasn't working out anyway. Let her fucking go."

Pappy was making a weird face. I thought he was going to puke. I turned around and she was standing behind me. She still stayed the night and we slept together, but any respect was gone for the way she let me talk about her. The whole act was more instinctual than passionate. It was almost a fucking reflex.

The last time we hung out was after the Super Bowl one year. It was pre-DUI so like an idiot, I drove to her place after the game. On the way there, my best friend since I was eight years old called me to tell me that he asked his girlfriend to marry him. I'm on a booty call and he's getting engaged to be married. Talk about fucking parallel, but fuck it. I got married first. Got divorced, too. A fucking relationship pioneer. Or, the Lewis & Clark of disappointment, perhaps.

Again, that night was reflexive. I felt empty the next morning, but still made out with her on the couch on my way out the door. I think she was really trying to make it work, too. I mean she shaved before every time we ever hung out. That says a lot to me. I knew in my heart, though, that this would never be it. I needed someone that would punch back and I was just going to leave footprints on her back if we tried to progress any further on this.

After that night, I dropped off her map. I got three drunk phone calls over the next week with her telling me, "You blew it. I was the best thing you will ever have. You have no idea what you are missing out on." I wished her well in all her endeavors and already had a short list of the best things I had ever had. She wasn't on there. She was merely my ticket to what I thought was normalcy. She was settling. I got defriended on facebook the next day. I now have three defriends. At this rate, hatebook could become a reality.

So, the list makes me reflect on shit like that. It's kind of good. It's kind of bad. In that situation I did the right thing, but feel bad for delivering the bitter pill to her. I tried to be as gentle as possible and would totally be comfortable if I bumped into her, but she is one of the few that carries ill will as an aftermath of us crashing into each other. I still carry feelings for about 60% of anyone that I've ever dated and even carry some feelings for a few of the one night stands. A few of those are still jump in front of a train for them strong. I don't know what that says about me. Fall too easy? Fall too fast? Or, is it all not even real and I just perceive it as falling. This is the stuff that keeps me up at night. The perils of honesty and wearing your heart on your sleeve. You get burned a lot, but you get to dance in the fire just as much. It's great in small bursts.

Hardly Gras

Just went and did the company picnic thing. It was on a Wednesday and they rolled it into the years of service ceremony and cancelled the cakewalk and the beer. There was still the three legged race and a guess how many Bellyflops in a jar contest, but it was just more depressing than morale inducing. Oh, I participated in the guess how many. I entered "7" as my guess and the lady looked at me like I was being a dick. I was.

It was a mardi gras theme and there was decent food, but not even a fuckin' free soda? They had kool-aid and ice water, seriously. It sparked memories of growing up Mormon and also evoked images of Jim Jones. Suddenly, I thought we were all going to die. I went with the ice water.

I looked around the picnic at all my co-workers and realized I didn't know most of them and wasn't friends with any of them except for a few. Aren't these things supposed to be happy? It was like going to an old Chuck E. Cheese with piss soaked carpet for your 21st birthday. Just disappointing. There is no morale at this point. I went with my cube mate and we were both having one of those days. Mine was because I got defriended on facebook by someone and the beat just goes on on that thing. I'm exasperated with it. Hers was with life in general. It was a lot of fuel for our pity fire.

This dude is making this long speech about a guy that has been with the department for 40 years and was "the mayor of this city that we have built." I had to comment on that to my lunchmates by saying, "And what did we build this city on? Rock and Roll, of course." Then, I looked at another co-worker who is just crazy and told one of the Directors beside me that someone should GPS her before she gets lost. Honestly, Island of Misfit Toys.

So, yeah, did my part and went to the picnic, but left real disappointed and wanted to be at a different place where I would like something like that. I hate feeling like this at work and used to try really hard to not get sucked into it, but this place is a stimulation dead zone. They should really do something about it. It's like a bad marriage at this point. I've been at places where it wasn't like that. Where I'd go to lunch with co-workers. Where we'd hang out afterwards. It really helps. I'm starting to really miss it and feel ground down.

Shall Not Covet Your Neighbor

Sunday morning came too early this weekend. I'm still not sleeping and woke up at 7:00 AM after going to bed around 2:00 AM after hanging out with friends from the soccer team. I had already been drinking a beerzooka with another group of friends that afternoon. It was all good, though. I went AWOL at some point in the night and took a cab home and threw a cooler off of my patio into the bushes. I'm starting to draw some lines in the sand with the neighbors and expressly said to not put the cooler on my porch ever again.

In the morning I was trying to go back to sleep by holding the pillow over my head, but it wasn't working and didn't matter as there was a knock on my door. Pappy and Warner were at my place. We kicked it and I showed Warner a list I was making of every person that I've ever slept with. I told him that there is this period where I can't remember anyone's name and so they have names like "Mexican Bo Peep," "Ginger Bo Peep," "Leather Pants Vampire" and "Four Piercings Below The Belt (but may have been named Arlene)." Then Warner gave me a ride to my car. I got the car home and all was well in the world. Watched Liverpool lose while trying to fall back asleep on the couch. Wasn't going to happen.

Around 2:00 PM I decided to be Johnny Palmerseed and go spread the love for the wondrous elixir that is a Robert Palmer. The Robert Palmer is an Arnold Palmer + Vodka + Peach Schnapps. Apparently, people are really ordering them now. It's become a totally legitimate order since being invented at the Portland airport by myself in honor of the love addicted British rocker, Robert Palmer. Sadly, it's only recognized by the few bartenders that I drink with, but it should make the Applebee's menu in about 6 months. It's delicious.

I bargained my way into a sixth on Sunday and introduced a cougar to them. She was a huge fan and thanked me for inventing it. They never thank you the day after, though. So, yeah, after six, I was a little trashed and ready to head home.

I biked home with the plan to order a pizza, watch a movie, and go to bed. It was a pretty solid Sunday plan. The pizza gets there. Life is good and my phone blows up. I'm expecting it to be one of the two people that I've been texting all afternoon, but it's some weird number. The text says: "So...how did you feel about talking?" I texted back "What?!?"

The next text said, "what do you mean by that? I'm asking if you want to talk."

I texted back "I don't know who this is?"

I googled the area code and got up and walked next door. I knocked on the neighbor's door and said "Is this you?"

She said, "No" and I turned around and then she said, "Just kidding, but you deleted me out of your phone?"

We talked for a bit. I told her the silent treatment/ignoring thing was a bullshit move and uncalled for and that I deserved more than that. At the very least she needed to treat me like a fucking person as I had been super cool to her and this is not how you return favors.

She countered by saying she wasn't avoiding me and that she had just been busy helping her friend buy a car and some other bullshit. She actually looked like she might be able to convince herself that that was true. I told her that that was complete bullshit and I didn't care about any of the whys or hows anyway. It just had to stop. Honestly, she hopped the fence onto her patio once last week. It was a little transparent. How am I feeling like the crazy one when stuff like this is happening?

She knew a bunch of stuff I did this past week, too, and knew my routine pretty well. That was creepy. She said that she would occasionally look for me out of her peephole in her door. I mean it's one thing noticing if your neighbor's car is not in the parking lot, but checking the peephole before you leave your apartment? That's a prison.

So, the goal was to end the neighbor feud and I think we got there in about an hour. I then gave her half of my pizza and went home. Mission Accomplished.

Where does this leave things? No more bike rides. No dinners. No sleepovers. No middle of the night comfort calls. No more after work hangouts. No more Rock Band. No more feeling like a stalker in my own apartment. Now, however, we can at least just coexist. A life less complicated is my windmill to chase. I, honestly, don't believe I'm destined for a normal life, but it doesn't mean that I won't try.

Home Is Where The Hard Is

Stuff is starting to fall back together. It's not great or anything, but it's totally manageable. The routine has just been altered a little bit. At this point, it's all about me. I'm the one with the problems and I'm the only one that can help myself. The help from others greatly diminishes the difficulty, but ultimately, I'm the only one that can flick the heavy switch back to "normal."

Starting to sleep again. D sent an itunes playlist of whitenoise that I didn't get fully downloaded by my new 9:00 PM bedtime, but I did something else I had read about and it kind of worked. I just laid in bed and breathed in and counted to 5 and then breathed out and counted to 5. The point being that the oxygen lets your body know that you are not under duress and the rest of you follows suit. The result? I no longer was playing six degrees of your stressors as I slept and also woke up dreaming about Ms. Pac-Man after 4 hours of sleep and then snuck in a couple of more hours after that and still woke up with the alarm clock rather than before it.

I think I may have been wrong about my subconscious being evil and plotting against me. It's taking everything it can and filing it away in the most efficient way it can so that my conscious doesn't have to deal with it during the day. It's why it feels like my brain is spinning the whole night while I try to sleep. It's really just inconvenient timing and I suppose it's the cognitive equivalent of moving furniture for the carpet cleaners. After it's all done, it will be a much better place to hang out. I still have a stock GABA chemical and receptor system, but am a little jealous of those that get to use benzodiazipenes to throw a muzzle on that whole system. It's cheating. "It's the rules of the game and the rules are the first go," sadly.

I was playing the stupid self-imposed curfew game with the blinds closed last night, but realized how stupid that was. I just need to go back to doing what I was doing and not worry about the drama moat that is around my apartment. The moat is what I make it.

Also, had a huge breakthrough with self-medicating again. I had a couple of beers after work to take the edge off. Honestly, just to take the edge off. I took a short nap after that and woke up a little later. The news is like the best thing to fall asleep to in the world next to golf. I got up groggily and thought about another beer. That would be stupid. So, I got up and jumped in the car and went and got a salad from the grocery store and ate. Never got to a third beer. That's a win.

So, tonight, might suck it up and go to a cougar nest in Los Altos to people watch with a girl that I met awhile ago. Going in real softly to that one and will go home early. Or, may just see if we can reschedule until I'm a little bit more together.

The two things I think are the major things to deal with right now are loneliness and believing that I deserve for good things to happen to me and quit self-punishing myself. See? It's all me.

Deprivation Nation

All right. Going to wrap this one up, put a bow on it and give it away.

I was waiting for my sister to meet me for dinner yesterday and my other neighbor goes, "Hey, you want to talk about it?"

I said, "Talk about what?"

He replied, "You and the neighbor over here."

I said, "You know there's been this gray cloud over this whole complex since I got back on Sunday. I don't know that there is anything to talk about, but did something weird go down this weekend besides the obvious? I wasn't even around and we are no longer on speaking terms. That's weird."

He laid it all out for me. It was a typical night of recklessness that I was not above in my formidable years, but I've also learned that nothing good happens on one of those nights and try to not do it anymore. So, newsflash, nothing good happened and it goes way beyond me and has turned the complex that was Melrose Place to Hellrose place.

One neighbor wants to fight the other for cockblocking him by hanging out in a Speedo until 6:00 AM. One neighbor is not talking to me because she is "sick of this shit." Me, I'm just disillusioned by everything. How one man could be so wrong is the part that I'm having a hard part dealing with, but it's pretty resolved. I feel chumpy and stupid, but that's my own deal and is pretty easily resolved. I'm not chumpy. I'm not stupid and I'm shaking this and getting back to being good. Bored, but good.

I had two beers while I talked to the other neighbor and he ran down the events of the weekend for me. He was super angry and I just kept explaining to him that anger was way more hurtful to one's self than the hatee. I learned that a long time ago. I just told him to find his center and get some balance and zen the fuck out. He kept looking to me to get angry about the stuff that I was dealing with as a fallout from the weekend. I'm not angry. I wasn't even in the same area code and had nothing to do with any of it. If anything, I'm just disappointed that what was in my head was better than the real thing, but it's generally the case. Beyond that, I had a where the fuck am I living moment. My sister showed up and "I'm better than all this" was chiseled into my brain. I felt pretty good about stuff. She just looked at me and said, "You need to get the fuck out of here."

To drive that point further home, I got this text while we were at dinner and showed it to her, "Don't 4get my smokes. Thanks dude. Ur so fuck'n young n got so much goin 4 ya can't believe you get upset about this shit. Pussy."

I went to bed after dinner, though, and something weird happened. Everything felt normal and then my pulse started racing. I had it at 120 BPM as I laid there at 9:30. I tried breathing to slow it down and then figured out that I had been thinking about the situation so much that it was all I could think about. I never really thought about it, but what do you think of to fall asleep? Shortly after my separation, sleep dwindled to almost nothing. I could visualize myself in a giant field under a blue sky just floating and it would help sometimes. With deep breathing it works. That still doesn't get away from what I think about when I go to bed under normal circumstances. I'm totally at a loss.

So, I finally fell asleep at about 10:30 and then snapped awake at 11:30. My subconscious was finding all these ways to relate the random things of REM sleep to the neighbor. The funniest one that it pulled off was a melody that was stuck in my head. I couldn't remember what song it was and it ended up being "The Neighbor" by Jason Falkner. I hate my brain for shit like that, but it was pretty brilliant on its part. I'm starting to believe she is a symbol of something else. It's not actually her. It's what she represents. I've read enough of Jung to know that she could be a symbol of something unresolved in my subconscious that I can bury when I'm awake and can turn on some defenses, but there is a shadow lurking in there that needs to be resolved. Sadly, again, there isn't a real clear answer or solution on this one. I'm just being alerted that I need to resolve something by the most innerworkings of myself and she was a reminder of that.

So, anyway, woke up at 3:15, 4:11 and then 5:00 and just laid there until the alarm clock went off. It wasn't a clean night of sleep, but it was unmedicated. I'll take that as a win.

As far as the neighbor situation thing goes. She made a few things a lot easier to deal with down the line by drawing a line in the sand like this. Yeah, it's a bitter pill, but you've got to take it. I'm staying above the whole thing. If she doesn't want to talk then we shouldn't talk. I'm not losing out on anything. She never gave as much as she took and I just plan on playing the ball as it lies. It's the rules, dude. I'm better than this.

Valerdictorian

I'm having a bit of anxiety today due to recent events. Not just the neighbor. The dad. My little brother. Work, etc. I was cyberdiagnosing my condition looking for a first line of defense against the anxiety just to kind of take the edge off and found Valerian root as a natural remedy. I was reading about it and found this weird side effect that it has. It attracts cats and rats. Perfect.

I'm just imagining me sitting there thinking to myself, "Shit. This really works. I feel okay" and then looking around at a bunch of cats surrounding me preparing to steal my soul or my breath while I sleep.

I mean. I've got a full bottle of Welbutrin on my coffee table, but the therapist says not to take it. I could probably get a Xanax prescription today if the doctor checked my pulse and blood pressure or just looked at my hands shake, but there was actually a better answer out there. The answer was friends. They work.

A friend checked in on me this morning just to see how I was hanging and it meant a lot. Another friend who had shared a particularly harrowing experience with me this weekend also exchanged some IMs with me. We talked about the weekend and about things moving forward and the neighbor and me and her, of course. It alleviated some of the stress and pressure from the whole thing. I learned this morning that it was way easier to help someone than it was to be helped, but she was good at it. It's my whole easier to give than receive condition that I have.

She put a lot into perspective both in general terms regarding myself and specific terms regarding the neighbor situation. She told me that if the neighbor wanted to talk it out she would come over and talk it out. If she is hooking up it doesn't mean she doesn't care. Sounds crazy, but it's true. If she doesn't want to talk it out, we won't talk it out and it wouldn't matter at that point anyway. It also made me realize that there were people who cared and there is something so comforting about being missed by someone. Never get to the point where you honestly believe that you are alone and that no one cares about you. Someone does. It's a sneaky feeling, though, you've got to be careful not to let it in. It's pretty much the hot shoes and bikini of the feelings world. You'll let it in too easily sometimes.

When you get your head all bashed in sometimes it makes it possible to absorb some things that you had lost sight of because you weren't paying attention to the big picture. It takes some affirmation that you are a good person and makes it worth fighting again and not giving up. Also, if you're not careful, you just might learn something.

In the past, I would internalize everything and wouldn't reach out for help. That would be followed with drowning whatever ailed me with booze. It's funny, nowadays if I'm feeling bummed, the last thing I'm going to do is booze. The eating? Still an issue, but seriously, it feels like I've got a nest of butterflies in my stomach. They're not pretty when they are inside you. They are what they are. I still get them before soccer games. It shouldn't be such a big deal.

So, someone asked me how I was at work today and rather than say fine, I replied, "You know what? Sometimes things just drop in your lap and you have to look at them and analyze them for what they are and then work with them. It doesn't really matter if they are good or bad. They are your things in your lap." They looked back at me like I was crazy, but I felt like the better man for not lying to them and telling them that I was great. The world won't wait for you and sometimes you've got to pick up your things and keep moving or you will fall behind.

Also, one last point. If a spider spins a web and a fly flies into it, can you really be mad at the spider? It's just doing what it knows to do. The fly is the idiot for flying into it.

Punched By A Ten Year Old

What's it feel like to be punched in the face by a ten year old? I have the answer as of yesterday.

It wasn't really a physical punch from him, but more like a bitchslap of reality.

I got home from some time in Napa. I had gotten a text from the neighbor on Friday assuring me that it's good if we spend the weekend apart and deal with the fact that we are "just neighbors" and that's all. Whatevs. Drank irresponsibly with friends and performed one stunt jumping into the pool from way too high of an elevation on a rockwall. Proceeded to drink myself into a mess with them and gave myself a much deserved panic attack for all of Sunday.

I made the drive home and felt that burning in my stomach paired with a tightness in my chest as I got closer and closer to home as if I knew the shit was going to go down. We talked briefly after work on Friday and she had that look that my ex gave me the morning after my birthday so long ago when she was finally done. It's a look that hits a wall ten feet behind you with an absolute steel quality in the eyes. This is the point when an individual has switched you off. It's a look that I will never forget for the rest of my life.

I got into my apartment and tried to nap, but it wouldn't happen so watched "Enter the Ninja" and did some laundry. The neighbor kids were running around all giddily and started rapping the neighbor's wall knocker repeatedly. I peeked my head out of the apartment and said, "Hey man. If they don't answer after three, they aren't going to answer. Leave her alone, T-Biz."

He then came up and whispered "Go look in the window at her couch."

I replied, "That's creepy and weird. You shouldn't look into people's windows, dude."

He then said back, "They are having sex on the couch?"

He followed this up with "Are you and her dating?"

I told him, "No, man. We're just neighbors."

He took off and I finished my laundry. Normally, at times like these in the past, I would just booze myself to sleep. Not this time. I went inside and laid down for a little bit and just tried to accept and process everything.

The neighbor is in the right on this and has every right to pursue whatever she wants to pursue. I firmly believe that there is some kind of plan of sorts and just need to accept it. There is no talk needed. There was nothing really besides two people having a nice time together briefly. I wasn't being nice to her expecting something in return for it and this is all fine. Yes, if you are falling for someone, it's nice if they fall back, but that's not always the case. Of course, with any fall, there is some time required for a recovery. You've got to fall every once in a while, though. It's how you learn to stop falling.

I exchanged texts with some friends and didn't feel alone in it anymore. I didn't necessarily feel good, still don't, but I definitely felt better. I mean, my hands are still shaking a bit, it's hard to eat and I'm a bit dizzy, but it's all part of the process.

I went to bed at 9:00 and tried to do it natch, but eventually got up and took a Tylenol PM. Only one because I kept almost falling asleep and then some subconscious lightning bolt would jerk me awake. It was horrible. I would lay there and it's like my brain was fighting with itself. One side was doing the right thing and accepting the whole situation and the other one was jumping to conclusions and creating all of those hurtful scenarios in very vivid imagery which would result in me waking up again. So, I got into a two hours on and one off sleeping pattern even with the Tylenol PM which just made me feel like I couldn't move when I did wake up.

The dreams were speaking volumes about what was going on. First, I was in Orlando (hate Orlando) and had forgotten to pack any clothes. Then, my bike was stolen and my phone got run over by a car. Add a lost laptop and then waking up at 5:30 AM unable to go back to sleep and there you have it. Fear of loss.

I swear I swear I swear I'm cool with it, but I do feel just numb. I feel like I'm wearing my body like a suit today and just trying to act like everything's cool, but I'll get into a conversation and just feel my mind slipping away from it. It's hard to concentrate.

The plan: put myself back together and just move forward. It's a little tough at first and blows my mind that this could happen this quickly, but it's doable. Who knew a ten year old could pack such a punch?

How To Save Money On Therapy

"I'll save you money on therapy, Hugh. Life's a bitch." - Hugh Voltage, SR.

So, he finally called me back from my message on Father's Day and made one statement that made every pint of blood drain from my heart and eyes well up. You fucking miserable asshole. He told me I should take all of that money and just buy a nice car and that would make me feel better. He followed that up with news that one of my younger brothers was abusing pills and just fucking up everything. Then he said he would have to call me back. I just kind of sat there in the area in the back of my work where I smoke in awe of what had just happened. I'll admit that he is a particularly powerful man when it comes to words. He crushed me with one sentence in less than five minutes.

This is why we don't talk. This is why I avoid him. This is why I've mentally destroyed all family bonds in my head. I'd like to see what Norman Rockwell would paint of that interaction. Fuck, even Charles Shultz would never do that Charlie Brown. The dad would just say "Bah Bwah Bwah Bwah. Bwah Bwah. Bwah BuhBuh Bwaw." I'd prefer that.

This was after a fairly horrific therapy session yesterday where it came up that I remember the day he left when I was five and the therapist asked me to go over it with him. I woke up and realized he was gone and pinned a note to my mom's bed to let her know. It was the day I gave up on childhood and just wanted to take care of my mom and my sister. It was the day that I developed a crippling fear of abandonment, which is also why I fear giving myself to the neighbor and want to pull away so as to avoid being abandoned, AGAIN.

So there it is. Happy Friday. I can beat this. I can handle this, but fuck it hurts. One day Lucy is going to not pull the football away and I plan on crushing it.

A,E, I, O, U and Sometimes Y is Not the Answer

I don't know what it is, but a wave a melancholy overtook me last night as I had my last smoke before bed.

I had just walked from my neighbor's apartment where I had fixed her Internet after helping her learn Mary Had a Little Lamb on guitar and then laid on the floor with her listening to Jeff Buckley. She's really gay for Jeff Buckley at this point. I laid next to her and rubbed her back as she started to fall asleep. The whole time a film strip of her pictures was flickering on her laptop. There were pictures of her, of her with friends, of her with family and of her with boyfriends. I thought to myself, "You know somewhere down the line, you are going to have to deal with this." I then got her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek and went home.

She has pointed out that there is no way that we will ever be together and I'm starting to believe it, really. I mean, it makes no sense, we like each other, but the only time she really shows it is after a few drinks. That's not real to me. She does, however, share some real moments with me when not drinking. That's the conflict. It doesn't, however, solve the problem of what I need from a person to make me feel secure and trust them.

She's already breached my defenses more than anyone in a severely long time and I don't know if it's her or because therapy has opened up some of those avenues for people to break and enter into. Regardless, why can't I accept the possibility that she could really like me, that it's not some kind of inside joke that is being set up from the get up by the entire world around me?

On top of that, what if she doesn't? I know that I'm okay alone and might possibly even be better alone, but that's the kind of bullshit that we all tell ourselves as an excuse of not getting what we want. We all want to belong and be loved. We all want to be adored and anyone that tells themselves or others that they'd rather be alone are full of bullshit. It's the one thing that we all collectively pursue. It's the reason behind everything. Yeah, I'll say I don't want you to like me or I don't care if you like me, but it's a boldfaced lie. Cheap Trick said it first. They wanted you to want them. I agree. I want you to want me and need me.

Now, I know that even in the short time that the neighbor and I have known each other, her life and my life have been better for it and without each other our lives would be a little less awesome, but there is just so much on the line for me. So much. And, sadly, the horse is so far from the stable at this point that I could never get it back in there easily.

So, she hasn't even done anything to hurt me in real life, but I've gone over about a hundred scenarios of how it is going to happen in preparation for what my mind has turned into the inevitable. Still trying to not put my finger near the eject button, though. I can do this without copping out. I'm just going to try to enjoy it while it lasts. Knowing why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling is not going to really help. An answer in this case would be completely worthless.

Jesus. I should just print this out and hand it to the therapist after work.

The One-Winged, Caged Bird Sings, Too.

This is a tough one, but I really need to write. For some reason, probably lack of sleep, everything just feels real heavy right now.

Friday night I went to Judas Priest and Whitesnake. It was pretty rad. I drank responsibly and headed home afterwards and my neighbor was still up. I went to her place and had a beer with her and listened to some music while I gave her arm tickles until she fell asleep on the floor. As soon as she was out, I left her apartment and locked the door behind me.

I got up at 8:00 AM and made some coffee and worked until about 2:00. The neighbor got up and I Irished up my coffee and gave her one as I completed my last action item. She said she wanted to hang out and be a bum and I told her that I would welcome that. We ended up doing the pool for a bit and then a movie and pizza. It was really domestic. I'm not sure what transpired next, but we got into it again. This time there was door slamming and name calling. I went to bed really pissed off having said some harsh things back. In hindsight, there were some things at play that I was unaware of.

Had breakfast the next morning while I waited for my mom to meet me for breakfast. She showed up right as they took it away and I switched to mimosas while we hung out and talked. I told her right off the bat that I was pretty pissed off from the night before and she reassured me that the neighbor was just going sideways and she would apologize and that if it was going to work out, it would work out. I told her I hoped so because I was falling madly in love with her. I've gone over it and over it and it's the only explanation that I've got. Right after that, I had an "I'm sorry" text show up.

So, we wrapped it up and I stopped at a bar on the way home to have a Robert Palmer to take the edge off. Later I found out that there are Federal, State, and Municipal regulations that state I am to be capped at 5 Robert Palmers in one sitting. Yeah, I got Palmered. It was actually a really fun afternoon of day drinking. The HughVoltage show switch got flipped.

The neighbor texted me to see if I was home and I told her that I was heading home, but was not "talk" worthy for some of the stuff we needed to talk about it. This is where I get fucked. If you would like to know anything about me, put me on a stool and fill me with cocktails. I will be stripped of all secrets if you want them. Nothing is off the table. I would never be a victim of waterboarding. Wait. Maybe they should use my method to get information from terrorists. I might be onto something. When you sum it all up, I think getting my secrets would go over way better in the press.

Long story short, the neighbor invited me in Sunday night when I got home and every card from my hand has been put on the table. She knows that I think I'm madly in love with her.

So, on a rough Monday due to a rough Sunday, she dropped by my work for lunch on her bike and we had lunch and talked about stuff. She pointed out all of the things that I didn't remember telling her. I told her that I may not remember it, but I can tell her that it was all true. She said that I made her laugh. It was a solid recovery. I'm not real mean anymore.

She biked around and met me after work and we went and grabbed a quick bite. I introduced her to fried dill pickle chips and sweet potato fries. I got a random text from a dude I had met the previous day. He thought I was entertaining and wanted to see if I was hanging out for a drink. It wasn't a gay thing. We went over and talked to him for a bit after turning down his offer of a drink. He seemed like good people.

We headed home and I played guitar and sang to her for a little bit, which is really alien to me. I've never done it before, but she's got me pretty good and to be completely honest, I enjoy her as an audience. She just lays on the couch with her eyes closed and listens to me do my thing. It's really awesome and sweet and there will probably never be a moment in our near future to compare to when I was playing "Lilac Wine" by Jeff Buckley to her while she laid on the couch. She looked so peaceful and it was completely contagious. Of course, a ten year old neighbor smashed into the sliding glass door like a lost bird at some point. He's got a mean crush on her, too, and was peeking through the blinds.

She went home after listening to some music for a bit and I went to bed. I wasn't really sleeping. I was mostly just laying there and my phone rang so I grabbed it. It was her and she was crying. We talked for a bit about stuff and I tried to calm her down and then she had to make another call and I went to bed again. Couldn't sleep at all at that point. She called again and I just told her that I would come over.

I went over to her place and she just looked really sad, so I gave her a hug and tried to reassure her about everything from here to there while we listened to "Happy" by Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins on repeat. She eventually looked at me in my Adidas sweatsuit that I had on and said, "You look like a pimp." After that, she asked me to stay, so I stayed. Nothing happened. That's not what this is about. I just like to be around her. I want to protect her, take care of her, make her laugh, all of these things that I didn't know were in me anymore. It's all very dangerous, but it's not worth fighting anymore. I want to watch her while she is sleeping and at peace. I also caught her watching me sleep, too, this morning.