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.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Eleven
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5 comments:
You are preaching to the choir, my friend! Mine's in Australia. And we probably shouldn't still be speaking...
I don't know. It sounds like fun to me. That makes it a good idea in my book. The rest will sort itself out. Maybe?
Its always the ones who are bad for us who we somehow keep throwing into the mixture? As long as you can have fun with it then why the eff not?
Although listening to me for advice never has been wise.
Sorry I couldn't hang out longer last week, next time I'm in town we are having dinner and playing MAJOR catchup.
I've done that (not 4,000 miles though), and let me tell you....I'd do it again. Sure it was a mess, and it didn't work out....but it was fun for awhile.
At the very least, your use of "fancied," "colour," and "bloody" all seem to imply that you've got Britain on the brain, and need to do something about it before you start describing things as "the dog's bollocks" and telling people you're "off to the pub for a couple Britneys."
My friend Lorna (who I'm sure you've met) told me this several times during my extended breakup with Devil Woman: You can't go back.
Of course, 6 months after that, she moved her high school boyfriend into her apartment from Indiana, so that advice doesn't necessarily apply if your ex is not evil incarnate...
Can you tell I have a fever? I really need to get back to my hallucinations now, the 8' tall rabbit is looing bored.
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