Monday, February 28, 2011

I believe that fate has brought us here/And we should be together, babe/But we're not

Funny how the songs I loved when I was younger suddenly make complete sense now, and in turn I love them even more. I wouldn't say I like this person anymore; I really and truly care about him, I mean, not that I didn't care about him before, but knowing he likes and trusts me brings that to a whole new level. And I still have my doubts. Not about a possible relationship, because those will be there until . . . well, I find out, but sadly I still wonder why he would want to be around me other than 'Oh, there's that awkward person, I'll go spend time with her out of pity.' I know that's not the reason, but there's always that little part of me that nags. And the dreams certainly don't help. I've dreamed about my friend Pip almost every night for the past week, and I hate it. It's nice when a favorite celebrity or character shows up in our dreams and romances us. When it's an actual person from our personal lives who does this, it sucks, and badly. With the fake person, I can daydream, I can apply myself to lucid dreaming and bring it back again, just for fun, and I know I'll never meet, let alone be with, that person in my lifetime. But with the actual acquaintance that we would love to have this relationship with, it just hurts because I don't want thoughts and ideas of them, I want the real thing, and having it taken away from me every morning is nothing short of a major bummer. Then there are the ones no doubt put into my subconscious by what I mentioned above.

I dream I'm with him, I walk up to him, put my arms around him, and say softly " . . . I like you, Pippy," and smile. And then this look, this horrible look of confusion and surprise, slight disgust, and embarrassment clouds his whole face as he mumbles an apologetic rejection and pushes me away before anyone sees us. Or I try to hold his hand or link arms and he shies away, once again looking around to see if anyone noticed. These 'dreams' make me sick.

I know he'd never act like that really, unless I was being a complete child about it. But there have been times when I actually have grabbed his arm and pulled on him, or snuggled up close to take a picture. (I'm gonna find a way to get that off my phone and online if it kills me, it's fucking adorable). But I just can't help but feel that it's getting to the point of now or never. If he really does consider me as close as he says, than things like slightly excessive physical affection shouldn't bother him, should they? Friends hug and do snuggly crap all the time, don't they? It's like we've reached a really good place in our friendship, but if it stays this way too long, I could be in the friends category permanently, and I don't want that unless I have to have it. You know that line in the first Pirates of the Caribbean, after the curse is lifted and they're all heading back, and poor, puppy-dog-eyed Will Turner is standing there watching Liz walk away, and Jack saunters up to him and says "If you were waiting for the opportune moment . . . that was it." Yeah, I don't wanna be in that moment. Of course we all know that poor Will finally manned up and got his girl, but that's the movies, and not everyone is going to wait for us to put on a feathery hat and cape and proclaim our love for them not caring who else is there.

I used to think maybe Pip's nature would mean he'd be the type to like it if I got a little trashy with him, get a little drunk, a little nasty. But for all the talk and giggling about Dixie locking us in her spare bedroom under the influence of alcohol, or me having to do CPR on him and 'see what pops up' . . . I'm really glad that didn't happen and hasn't happened yet. He's a cheeky bastard and no doubt has needs like any person, but something is telling me that it'd be better for both of us to do this the old fashioned way, because under all his goofy albeit very present manliness, he really is a softie. I mean hell, he admitted to me that Bambi makes him cry and that it made him sad that his daughter was too embarrassed to make homemade pizza with him anymore. That he watches the movies he bought for his kids more than they ever did. He may be damaged and rough around the edges, fuck, I strongly suspect he has an ankle bracelet on (which would explain his evasive behavior, lack of social life outside home and work, and constant habit of blowing off invitations or 'getting sick' when he said he'd be somewhere). But he has feelings just like the rest of us, like me. Maybe even more like me than I would have once believed. Mom doesn't really like him. Because he has baggage, because his family is nuts, his Dad is a huge asshole . . . because he 'can't take care of you'. She's still under the impression that the purpose of finding a man to share my life with is so that I can sit at home all day, children or not, while he brings home a paycheck. I don't want that. Pippin summed it all up, really. I'm his friend just because I want to be his friend, not because I think he has something to give me materially. I do want things from him, but money could never buy them. Sometimes we don't talk. We just sit outside together, just close enough to where we might brush or bump into each other if we move, where I can hear him breathe and smell him. He smells amazing, by the way. I wouldn't trade those times for anything, except maybe a million more just like them.

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