Looking sideways

Act II: We were practically the first people to arrive at the club. There were maybe another 3 or 4 people already in, but that didn't make it less strange. Not the same kind of strange it is to see a club with all the service lights on, during the daytime. This time, it felt wrong. Like I shouldn't be there. Maybe I was the one feeling strange. If you know me well enough, you might be asking yourself how I ended up in a club, on a Saturday night, after 11pm. I'm normally in bed an hour before that, even on a weekend. If not, I will be tucked in, under the blanket on the couch, watching something on youtube. Or listening to music. But likely not out, and definitely not at a club. So I hope you are ready for the next plot twist in this tale: I decided to go out approximately 20 minutes before I was out the door.  Here, once again, your knowledge of me might help out: I plan things, way in advance. I am never spontaneous. In this particular evening, that was even more promine...

Act I: A few months after things with red speed guy went up in flames, I started dating someone else, and as you all know I like my acronyms, I will call this someone PMM here. Semantically speaking, PMM is probably who I should refer to as my first boyfriend, but life goes beyond semantics - more on that later. PMM and I dated for about 6 months, and our relationship had many more relationshipy things than whatever it was that I had with red speedo guy (RSG from now on, to make my life easier). We had a nice relationship, and I liked being with him. But I never loved him. For starters, I was still madly in love with RSG, and I would still be in love with RSG for many years afterwards. He was the one I wanted, he was the one I craved, he was the one who made my heart beat. PMM was not RSG, but he liked me, treated me well, and maybe most importantly, wanted to be with me. PMM was a placeholder, someone who was there to fill an empty space left by someone else. And before you judge me, ...

Well, this is definitely not how I thought my weekend would be ending. In fact, I was so sure it would be a different outcome, that I had a text practically ready to post here on the blog, as a way of trying to get some kind of closure on something that had been causing me lots of anxiety. So much so that I had to walk away from it, at least for a while. In a way, my text was me trying to process that goodbye. And then life happened, as it always does. At first I was surprised and euphoric. Once again I was proven wrong, which meant that I was right to trust my gut, and I was right to resist doubting myself. But that happiness didn’t last - as it often doesn't, and I was back at being sad. Now that Monday has settled in, I don't know how I feel. Against all odds, against all I know about myself, not knowing how I feel feels strangely familiar. I am lost, my heart is lost, my brain is lost. The unexpected showed me how much I am lost. So I came back to my text, initially with th...