Whirlpools...

I have decided that the most annoying thing in the world is being completely crazy about someone you’re supposed to hate.

And I’m not even talking about just trying to stop liking someone because you realize they’ll never like you back, oh no, I’m talking about knowing that this person does like you back, even if they’ll probably never admit it out loud, but having a pretty strong inkling that no matter what, they’re going to hurt you in some way. Knowing that the smart thing is to just stay away. The safe thing is to stay away. But that the thing that will probably make you happy is not staying away.

I’ve been talking to E for the past hour or so. It started off simple. He sent a text asking how I was, asking how work was with him and his brother gone now. Relatively safe conversation, because a few weeks ago, with the passing of one of our former co-workers, I got that sort of epiphany that most people get when they’re around death and I decided that I needed him in my life in some way, even as just a friend. Most importantly, as a friend. As I’ve said many times before, when I’m having my mini-meltdowns, drowning in my own life, he’s the only person who can reach in and find me, and pull me out of the waves to the safety of the shore of sanity. I need him around from time to time. And since this is the time of year I tend to mentally aspirate, I really need him. So when I said I wanted to be friends again, but just friends, he said that was cool.

Anyway, I digress. The conversation was tame. I mentioned how I miss having all the boys work there, how I miss cooking for them, and suggested we all get together and I’ll make my famous chicken parm. From there, the exchange became laden with double entendre, and not from me. I reeled it in, reminding him that we were just friends now. He said what I wanted was cool… but it was a shame because, well, remember the good times we had.

After that, it all just came out. Word vomit, if you will. I told him how he made me feel the last time. Every detail I’ve used to describe it to my friends, how he made me feel like a whore – not the Eliot Spitzer kind, but the back alley, torn stockings, knock on the door with the secret code kind of whore. How the only thing I could compare it to was from years ago, lying there, realizing I’d just been raped. How I don’t even know how I got home, I don’t even remember the drive. How I cried for the first time in YEARS over a guy (I never even cried about Mike, and barely shed a tear about Bill so, I hope you all see how serious this is).

He apologized, said he felt bad for me and the girlfriend. I told him feeling bad doesn’t make it better or make it go away. Oh, and I should add that I started crying when he first apologized. Maybe that’s all I needed. I needed to hear him say it. I needed him to know exactly what he had done to me, and I needed to hear his remorse. He continued to apologize, up and down, didn’t realize he had hurt me like that, if he could take it back, he would. And I believe him. It was the words he used. I can’t explain it. I told him that next time, the intelligent thing to do is the next time I text/call whatever, no matter how drunk, no matter what I say, then he has to say, I’m sorry, I can’t.

But then he fires back, telling me he’s single now, and that to be honest, he really did want to ‘blank blank blank’ (‘blank blank blank’ = something uber personal and bordering slutty that I drunkenly texted to him that night, and I’m still trying to figure out what it means that he remembers, as drunk as he was, and what it means when he says he really did want to. If you’re that curious, ask and I’ll tell), then his texts turned flirty/sexual again, and I told him flat out that yeah, down the line we’ll probably end up there again. I can’t help it. It’s all the things I mentioned in my last post, the way he’ll surprise me with some sudden voice of maturity when I need it the most, and the far more intimate things… I’ll always go back. The fact that I’ve stayed away for almost 4 months at this point, despite being practically begged three times, means at least I have the strength to put my foot down and say enough is enough. Maybe I am a fool, who knows? I told him that too, that I’m probably a sucker, but he’ll get his chance to ‘blank blank blank’.

Then I was starting to fall asleep, and there was no way to keep that conversation going so I told him I was going to bed, I would love to get everyone together and make dinner for them, and that there would be no more sexy talk until I could separate him from some dirty rapist in my head. He said he hopes that happens soon, apologized again, and said goodnight hun. And sure, I’m probably acting like some 12-year-old with her first crush by overanalyzing his use of ‘hun’, but I don’t usually get ‘hun’ out of him.

All I know is that this little chat left me both relieved and twice as confused. Am I stupid, am I like those girls I make fun of for wanting to go back? Or was this really all we needed, me to spell out for him ho insensitive and obnoxious his actions were, for him to admit guilt and realize what he did was far greater than he thought? I don’t know. I don’t know what the right move is. It’s like, I don’t know that he’s bad for me so I can’t be sure if going back is wrong or not. (Walk Away by Christina Aguilera came to mind when I we finished talking.)

I don’t know. I just… I don’t know. I like him. Hell, I love him, the way you love your friends. Sometimes I wonder if there’s more. When he was in an accident over the summer I thought maybe there was, but that went away. Could I love him? Probably. Do I want to take the risk of finding out? Dude’s got a good head on his shoulders; he won’t always be an asshole. It might take him a few years, but he’ll turn out to be the kind of guy most women don’t even realize they’re looking for. Is it really worth hanging around, waiting for that guy to fully emerge? He bobs to the surface every now and then – he’s the one with my life raft – but he’s clearly not buoyant enough yet to stay afloat.

Side note: I’m in love with all my water references today. Now I’ve got to come up with a spectacular subject line…

Another thing occurred to me just now... Am I an idiot for being as open with him as I am... admitting my feelings, admitting that I'll eventually come back... Or does that mean that there's some level of trust there I can't hide from?

So… I’m here taking suggestions or ass-kickings as needed. Please give me your advice. This is just way unfamiliar territory to me.