Then they smiled with eyes that looked as if they knew me... this is scaring me.

Why the fuck did I get in the car.

Nothing happened. But the fact that I would trust a stranger like that, trust a stranger with my life... I hate everything he said to me. I am eighteen-fucking-years-old. Look, Mr. Gunner, I am not your true lover. I have all the time in the world for games, but no time for guys who flip shit and go fucking scary-crazy.

"I am the kind of man who would lay down my life for the woman I love. I should have been born in the knight's times, because I am that kind of guy. I will fight to keep you interested in me."

And what did I do then?

When I got back to my car?

I went and made out with the Editor at his house until 2:30 in the morning.

"Oh hey! Sorry I didn't call earlier. I was hanging out with my friend Nicole..."

I can't do that anymore. I just want the ex back in my life, the ex who is noncommittal, the perfect part-time boyfriend who's sexy as all hell and irritates me enough to let me leave him at a distance. (But he never called me back.)

I am crawling out of my skin, and this is just the beginning. I don't know how what I'm going to do about the Gunner. Never calling him again is not an option.

I gave him a second chance.

It was a good thing.

Mmm...

I'm resisting the urge to make the Editor a mixtape.

But oh, how do I want to.

My cards are on your table, my dreams are in your bed.

My ex walks in to my work and it's all over.

I wasn't aggressively flirting... I was just aggressive.

DAMN IT.

I didn't mean to GET like that!

He's just one of the most sensuously attractive guys I've ever met in my life. Kissing him... hmm.

My hormones surge when this guy makes eye contact with me. It's not fair. He leaves me in a cold sweat.

And...

he wants absolutely nothing to do with me.

DAMN IT.


I am tired of being this:












And want nothing more than to be this:
















Got it?!

There's always room here for the lonely.

I can say this with the confidence that you will never see this because you have avowed completely social interactions via the internet. Such a task requires social skills that I lack. You put your arm around me tonight and held my hand...

I have always wondered if there is something that I missed.

"Oh, sorry."

"I just gave you that look because you send me... mixed messages, that's all."

"What? I'm confused."

"Now you know how I feel 24-7!" Ha. Ha. Ha.

I don't see us together, but just if we could hook up, maybe? I know that acting on the connection that I have with you would be electric. In this modern age, my forwardness is just me taking control of my sexuality.

The phrase 'until something better comes along' is not one that belongs in my mind when things like this happen. The Editor writes me constantly. I don't WANT to act like we're an old couple. I want *excitement.* I draw away from him in hopes that he will chase me further, but I am out of breath.

I just need a mental-physical connection with -somebody- who doesn't mind me occasionally being in love with them.

I'm just a fucked-up girl looking for her own piece of mind.

Old habits die hard.

I didn't consider it a date, really. I didn't even think it would be like that. But he's paying for everything and giving me the stare that, were we animals, he would be licking his teeth. The kind of stare Alan used to give me. He's opening my door and telling me I'm beautiful.

I didn't sign up for that!

I kind-of sort-of have a man now. I kind-of sort-of am involved right now. Even if I was thinking this morning about how the Editor is getting too close too fast and I don't know how to ask him politely to slow his role. I am battling infatuation and refuse to call him my boyfriend until I know that it is attraction and not infatuation that draws me. I am fighting the "Oh-my-God-a-straight-male-said-i'm-pretty" syndrome. Jesus fuck.

We talked like we were old friends.

But I'm seeing the Editor tomorrow, and the last time we were together we kissed.

This would turn out best if I could just freeze this moment in time, because -somebody- is not going to like the outcome.