28 October 2006

Sweet September (Part 1)

Summer ended a week early for me, with the last week of August being cloudy and cold, it was a complete washout for the beach. Even if I did brave it with Jefferson and Mitzi.

And so it was time to pack for school.

I wasn’t happy about that.

I had just finished my summer classes only a few weeks earlier and I wasn’t too excited to be getting back into learning mode.

Not to mention I was going to be living in a triple in a 5 person apartment. And three of the girls are all brothers in a fraternity (co-ed, and they like being called brothers). I knew how the sorority girls were and I was hoping I wouldn’t want to kill myself.

I did of course Facebook them before I signed up and they seemed reasonably normal.

A few days before I was set to move in I got an e-mail from one of the girls asking what I could bring and they were already moved in from helping the freshman move in.

Great. $10 bucks says I got the top bunk.

Move in day finally came, and of course I waited until the last minute to pack. Duh!

My parents actually came to help me move in (unlike last year where I did it all myself!).

Me and my step-dad did most of the work

Of course.

I met the girls in the other room first as my roommates were at a show in NY, and they seemed pretty cool, and when I met my roommates later that evening, I could tell almost right away that it wasn’t as bad as I was anticipating and we might all get a long.

And here it is late October, and I’d say, for the most part, that’s still true.

Classes started the Wednesday after Labor day and just attending 3 our of my 4 classes Wednesday and Thursday I was already nervous about my workload, but was hopeful. Oh how naïve.

Jefferson and I kicked off the school year with a return to our morning routine. The time was blissful, and simple. Just two lovers enjoying their time together. It’s how we’ve been spending all our time together lately. The 4 hours flew by in a flash, and I found myself wishing for the lazy days of summer to come back when we could spend hours together relaxing and not worrying about time.

We departed at the subway station with hot kisses and I headed back to Jersey and back down to my beach house for the last hurrah of summer.

The weather was supposed to be gorgeous and I was headed to a flea market!

I was up bright and early Saturday morning and headed to the huge bi-annual Ocean Grove flea market with my mom and two of her colleagues that had come down the night before.

We spent at least 4 hours there and still didn’t see the whole damn thing!

But I had my first zeppolis and damn good fresh kettle corn!! Yummy!!

Afterwards we all headed to the beach, but by the late afternoon it had cooled down a bit, and the ocean was downright chilly. But that ended up not mattering because I conked out in my beach chair for over an hour!

It was our intention to go to my favorite restraint where they have the best crab chowder in the world, but the wait was too long (even in September) and we forgoed it for a dumb Chinese buffet.

Oh well, it was a good enough hurrah I guess.

Good thing because I came down with a narsty cold Monday night.

That lasted and lasted.

But as sick as I was, I still managed to drag myself into the city to see Jefferson.

Who better to comfort me and take care of me?

But I got there early and he got there late.

Though that gave me more time to work on my essay on Transcendentalism.

Whatever the fuck that is! Lol.

The whole morning I stayed wrapped in his arms, but our lips never touched save for a light peck. It was weird, and hard to not kiss on the lips. But we kissed everywhere else. And Jefferson was sweet and gentle as we made love.

We were quiet that morning. Content with each other’s touch.

“A little quiet and cuddly, which, you know, we need now and then.” As Jefferson put it.

We parted again at the subway station and as much as I wanted to skip class that night, I couldn’t justify it after going into the city for sex.

My cold didn’t get much better and I felt like death the next day. But I was well enough Friday to go see The Illusionist with my friends and laugh it up at Chevys making absolute fools out of ourselves and annoying customers all around. Man, it was great.

Until I got home, and out of nowhere broke down in tears. And took down my blog.

Why? Because I thought I should end it with Jefferson.

I can’t really explain why I came to such a sudden conclusion, but here’s bits and pieces of what I talked about with Mitzi that night, to help better explain what I was thinking:

i can't stand how i feel about him when i know it's so stupid because i can't ever be with him, and it's not even that i want to, i just feel so unsettled sometimes with how strongly i feel about him
and it's not like i get jealous or that i want to see him every day(that's no longer true)
i'm happy with our relationship, and i told him, but i guess i just get scared of being attached to him

i'm mad at myself for loving him as much as i do, when it feels so pointless
and i liked tried to cut down my attachment and i wasn't telling him i loved him for like a few months

Mitzi: what is your biggest fear?
Me: not feeling loved

but i'm not unhappy with him, i get scared by my feelings
that's why this is a hard decision for me to make and why i'm in tears over it

at this moment, i just wish i hadn't met him, that i hadn't gotten into such a decadent sexual lifestyle

i let myself fall in love. i tried so hard not to

i'm just terrified: of maybe never seeing him again and of never finding someone that made me feel like Jefferson did


And all of this happened while Jefferson was out in the woods, so I was left to sit with it until he got back. But I ultimately decided ending things with Jefferson wasn’t the decision I needed to make, but I knew it was something I needed to talk to him about.

And I planned on talking about it the next time I saw him, but I chickened out.

I hate talking about my feelings, especially the hard ones.

We had another nice morning together (even though he was late again). We talked a bit and he told me tales from Dark Odyssey and I could tell he was waiting for me to bring it up.

Why I’d taken down my blog, and what I needed to talk with him about.

He asked me if everything was ok, and I just looked at him and thought how much I loved him and I knew how much he cared about me, and I knew I was right where I was supposed to be.

With him.

I assured him everything was fine, and we should go fuck.

And we did a lot of kissing. To make up for the week before when I was sick.

And we made out like teenagers at the subway stop again, soliciting some “ewws” from kids that got out of school at the same time.

When I got home I sent him the e-mail explaining what I couldn’t say in person:

So, you were waiting for me to talk about what happened this weekend weren't you? I wasn't exactly sure if you were just waiting for me to bring it up, or I was even paranoid for some reason you actually knew what happened. Well, aside from the fact that I hate talking about my feelings, I still didn't know what to say really. I'm still not sure.

Well, first, my "break-down" Friday night was over you, because I had worked my self up over this imaginary conflict in my head. I'm still trying to pin point why (and I think that's hard because it's probably a lot of different reasons), but I had come to the conclusion that it was necessary I stop seeing you. And I didn't really like that, and it killed me and I cried and cried for like 2 hours. And every time I would stop, I would think of the idea of never seeing you again and I would start all over again.

I told you I was happy with us, and that wasn't a lie. It's very, very true. But it's also hard for me because I grew up having very romantic and traditional ideas of how love and relationships are supposed to go. And so, in my head, one dates to hopefully form a relationship to potentially lead to marriage if all goes well and circumstances are right.

But here I am with you, in such an unconventional relationship and you're someone I care for so much, and work so hard to make happy, and love so deeply (though whenever I love, it's always very deep and very passionate, I blame it on my being an Aries, lol), except you're not my boyfriend. Nor do I need you to be. But it does feel like you are, in a way. And some days, particularly when I'm already extra emotional (especially in the fall when I often slip into a mild depression), I get a little melancholy over the fact I love someone I'll never be with. And I also get scared I'm going to get hurt one day since I am so attached to you.

I'm not sure still what exactly it all means though.

I absolutely want to keep seeing you. That I'm sure of.

But the rest, I still have to mull over I suppose.

But I love you.


He took it in, and took it well. I’m always welcome to share my feelings with him and that if I do ever decide to end things with him, to include him in the decision.

Fair enough.

And I know this might sound odd to some, but Jefferson can sometimes be a man of few words.

But that’s not to say his few words don’t hold enormous meaning.

We’d moved to a different level now though. I felt I could talk to him about stuff now. That it wouldn’t be so strange. He wasn’t just a lover, he was a friend. A good friend.

But still not my boyfriend.

At least not for now.

And I’ll follow up on the rest of September in part deux…


1 comment:

Lady A said...

Whew. Yes. That email resembles a few emails I've sent in my time because typing is so much easier than speaking, and when I'm around the person in question I just can't find the words.
I've been in a similar situation...and you have my deepest sympathy and hopes that you'll work out the answer that's best and healthiest for you.