Most Dangerous

Sometimes I think I've gotta get over this whole thing I have about not hurting people. I mean, it's kept me honest for eleven years or so--give or take, and not counting what happened with Bob--but I'm starting to think that maybe if I didn't worry so much about everyone else's happiness, I might actually have a chance for some of my own.

And I don't mean "stop worrying about it" in terms of "don't focus on being nice but don't focus on NOT being nice either"--I mean actively allowing my not-so-nice side to come out and play once in a while.

I got a call from Terrence today--like I don't get a call from Terrence EVERY day, like he's not still trying to hit it as soon as he can. I really really wish I WAS into him like that--just for the feeling of being in control of something, or not in control of something different. I'm ready to raise hell; this placid little emotionless life is wearing me down, and how do you tell that to someone? "Oh, well, see, LJ, I know you said I can bring you anything that's bothering me, so here it is: you're kind of emotionless and all you SEEM to care about is money, and I have this active inner life that you know nothing about and I just can't deal with this kind of loneliness anymore? And I've sorta been waiting around for a couple of years now, hoping that it was just some wall you were keeping up as a defense--god knows I'd sympathize with THAT--but after two years I've come to the conclusion that you're actually ALL walls, with no rooms behind them? But really, you're a great guy--it's nothing personal..." Yeah, that conversation would go well.

And regardless of how ready to raise hell my brain is, my body is not (with the exceptions of a certain region slightly north of the femurs--in fact, I'm fairly sure that's where much of this hell-raisingness originates from.) I think I've lost maybe 7 or 8 pounds so far, but 7 or 8 lost out of the hundred I NEED to lose--well, it's not really noticeable just yet. Not exactly the sort of look that brings the men running, if you catch my drift.

"Why do you need a man anyway?" I hear you asking. Two important facts: 1) I don't do well in meaningless sexual relationships; and 2) celibacy makes me vaguely psychotic. You can see the quandary I'm in here. Adding to the mess, the sort of men I'm physically attracted to are the ones least likely to be emotionally and/or intellectually attractive--and vice versa. Even the Cute Brit, as amazingly cool as he is, ain't exactly my cup of tea physically. But in his case I might be willing to make an exception, simply because I have my suspicions that he and I harbor certain similar darknesses, which--if it were true--would compensate for almost anything else. (Not that it matters--as I must repeatedly remind myself, he has a girlfriend.)

Sometimes I wish I could go back through my life and figure out exactly where I got twisted--at what moment I completely diverged from the path I was raised for. I mean, in high school and all through college there was Chris, who was like The Perfect Boy--good grades, hardworking, goal-oriented, extremely intelligent, wanted to marry me and have one of those normal lives. And aside from an entirely-unfounded fear, based in one too many romantic movies or something, that he didn't love me "enough", I was fine with all of it. I had these little dark pockets that he didn't quite get, and among them was my thing with Darius--but I was willing to compartmentalize that and head forward...until the summer after I finished school, and came home and within three weeks I'd met JP and everything was turned completely upside down--if not visibly, at least inside. But I can't pin down the moment where everything got tangled up. Maybe it was much sooner--maybe back in high school, I don't know.

I just know I have a life very different from any I would have ever imagined for myself. And in many ways that's good--and I don't regret anything, really, though I can point to at least one glaring instance where I would change the outcome, regardless of what I do or don't regret. But the problem with the life I've got is that it allows for more catastrophes and mistakes than most. There are people who have more stringent lists of standards by which to judge potential partners, and they seem to get hurt much less than I do--but I just have to believe that they have much less chance for transcendence that way, much less chance for someone amazing to come into their lives from outside their little boundaries. Don't get me wrong--I have my "type"--but I think it encompasses a wider range than most.

I only wish it was working.