I Survived Valentine's Day

My man has redeemed himself, at least somewhat.

And the drought is over.

I don't think the problem is so much that he's an asshole--he really isn't, by any standard--but that he's just as emotionally crippled as I am, in many of the same ways. For whatever reason, he won't, or can't, be vulnerable.

(I read that and a red flag goes up--that's kinda the same brand of excuse I used to make for CR. Except it was more like "he can't help it". Really, though-- CR WAS an asshole--I never denied it. I always just dealt with it and accepted his excuse: "it's everyone else's fault I'm like this. Especially women. And white people." LJ isn't an asshole; he's just distant. And he doesn't blame anyone for it.)

At this moment, I am unconcerned about the etiology, or even the existence, of LJ's emotional hangups.

The important thing is, I got laid. FINALLY.

I also got a bunch of balloons and a card, all of which were waiting for me when I got home. And--even better!--he actually STAYED IN last night. Which was pretty fucking miraculous, even if all we did was watch three basketball games simultaneously. I'm beginning to like basketball, sorta, though it's certainly no NASCAR.

This doesn't solve any problems, really, but at least it makes me not need to kill anyone due to lack of sex. And that, my friends, is a start.