Jiggity Jig

Is it wrong that I want to have lunch at Panera tomorrow for the sole purpose of scoping out my ex boyfriend, and potentially making him very uncomfortable?

Okay, okay, maybe it's not the sole reason... I am rather fond of their bread bowls.

I just got back from the Best Friend's house, where I watched the Sex and the City movie with her and her remarkably acquiescent husband (who had his ACL replaced today and was therefore doped up on percoset). In the course of providing me with all the local gossip, she mentioned that my First Love served her coffee at Panera yesterday, where he is the manager, and skeezily hits on all the teenaged girls who work there.

It seems that my stellar taste in men stretches all the way back to the tender age of 13. Hooray for me!

Doesn't stop me from wanting to go check him out. What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.

The holiday has been lovely, if a bit of a whirlwind. It seems as if I've spent more time in transit than I have in any one place, and tomorrow evening it's back to the big city to work a double on Wed, and then I'm off again through January 3rd. I'm hoping that on at least one of those days, I get to sleep in.

Two of my four grad school applications have been submitted and my MFA auditions are scheduled. I've finally unearthed my writing sample for the PhD applications, which needs to be re-typed, as well as another contender that needs a little work, but if I have time, I may spruce it up and submit it instead. I'm also waiting on two letters of recommendation, which has me more than a little edgy as the deadlines are fast approaching and I can only send so many reminder emails before my head explodes. Contemplating combing the Baltimore newspapers to see if one of my recommenders has died or is in a coma or something, which are the only reasonable excuses I can think of for agreeing to write a letter back in September, and not yet having done so.

At least I survived the GRE and my scores, it has to be said, are stellar. 740 Verbal, 730 Math, and a 5 in Analytical Writing (which, okay, could have been better, but I'll live), just in case you were wondering...

I've also been cast in a play which will be rehearsing throughout January, in addition to getting ready for my MFA auditions, and figuring out how to rearrange my work schedule around all of the above so that I can still make enough money to pay my rent. I will hopefully be worked into an egg donation cycle early in the month, which will take care of my financial concerns, but seeing as I've been waiting since September, that can hardly be counted on...

In other words, life is about to get intensely crazy... but at least it will be interesting.

Happy Holidays y'all!

Eleven

I am playing a very dangerous game. Or, if not dangerous, just very, very foolish. I've been spending far too much time thinking about someone whom I certainly should not be thinking about, especially considering that said someone is 4000 miles away and likely to stay there.

Confused?

Me too.

The English Ex and I have been talking a lot lately, or IM'ing rather, and amid the usual sexual banter that colours our conversations--I did invite him to come visit me for New Years for the sole purpose of getting laid--there is an undercurrent of... something.

It's trying to figure out that something that is getting me into trouble.

Because that something is probably nothing, or else just very little. Two lonely people who once fancied each other feeding each other's bruised egos via the internet. On the other hand, it feels strangely familiar, like an echo of those days many years ago when he and I were both trying to figure out how we felt about each other, without letting on that there was anything to figure out. The main difference being that, all those years ago, we were on the same bloody continent.

But how many times can a man jokingly ask "Why aren't we married?" without there being just the tiniest thread of a something lurking beneath the surface?

You see, I can live with a tiny thread of something. Sure, in the end a tiny thread will come to nothing, just as all of this will, most likely, come to nothing. But a tiny thread would at least mean that it's not all of my own invention. That the something really is something, as opposed to wishful thinking.

I hope you're not annoyed with my egregious use of the word "something," but really, I have no other word for it.

Gah. What good can ever come of flirting continuously with an Ex who lives on the other side of an ocean? And even though I know the answer to this question is "none," why can't I seem to stop?

The other day I asked the folks on Twitter, "On a scale of 1-10, just how stupid is it to invite an Ex to travel 4000 miles for a dirty weekend? And will that stop me?"

Although I received not a single response, I can answer without a doubt...

Eleven.

And not a chance.