Oh, goodness.

My new boyfriend is meeting my friends today. He's met a couple of them, not very many, and only for short periods of time. I'm very nervous about this. It's not that I'm afraid of them not liking him. He's perfect for me. I can say that. He. Is. Perfect. For. Me. I couldn't be any happier with him. I slept over at his room last night for the second time this week and I just couldn't stop smiling the entire time I was with him. He's cute and funny and nice and sexy and just everything I could've ever wanted him to be and more.

What I'm worried about is whether or not he will like my friends. They're a very, erm, interesting bunch and I don't know if they're really the kinds of people he likes to be around. They're not very much like him. He's different, but in a good way. I'm worried he won't like how crazy they are and I'm worried that they won't be on their best behaviour because, let's face it, family dinners normally tend to get crazy and out of hand very quickly. I know there is really no easy way for him to meet all of them unless we were to all go to family dinner together and family dinner really is the family at its finest. If he met them any other way I don't think he'd have a good understanding of the dynamic of the family.

I hope this all goes better than I'm envisioning it will.

The things I do...

I got a text today asking me "what's up and how was your break?" from, you probably guessed it, Mr. Physical. I answered it, like any other text I get, and said that I was currently in a lecture and that I had a good break. He asked me if I'd be free later and I was wondering what time he means for "later." You never know. He said 9:30, I said I'd be at dinner, but I'd go right from dinner to his room, which I did.

The entire way from dinner in the campus center with two of my friends to his room I was kicking myself. I was wondering why I was even going, why I wanted to go, and then justified it by saying that he doesn't call me every day and that I am feeling particularly lonely right now. Silly me, I always find some way to justify whatever it is that I do that is remotely not a good idea...like eat that entire pint of Ben and Jerry's Mud Pie ice cream (which was quite delicious). I get there, stand outside his door and text him saying that I'm not going to knock, but that I am in fact outside. He calls me, I hit the wrong button and ignore the call as my phone is appropriately singing "I Just Had Sex" which never fails to make me laugh. He sits in his room for another like, three minutes before finally reading my text and coming to the door. I get in there and we do what we do like normal human beings. (Well, normal for us.)

But this time was different. This time, he actually bothered to give me something that he'd never given me before. (I don't need to be specific here, do I?) It wasn't super great, but it was nice, and I was honestly surprised. After all, I'd given him that more times than I really care to think about. We finished doing what was actually normal and he let me sit with him for a while and watch "Don't Forget the Lyrics" with him and then we proceeded to have a discussion about Billy Joel and Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen -- three of the musicians that I happen to hold very near and dear to my heart. He even sang "We Didn't Start the Fire" with me, which was a really interesting experience. I didn't ask about Friday, but he did ask me what I'd planned for Thursday with my friend, but I said I didn't know.

I kind of wish he were my IRL boyfriend, but I like the way we are now. I like that we're friendsish. No, we still don't talk outside of our respective bedrooms, but we are talking more and more. It doesn't feel as strange as it first did. It feels much more natural, and I'm glad--especially after six months of this. I don't think I love him, I think I'm comfortable with him, and besides, I'll find a different guy I'll actually be able to date and talk to in public and everything will be fine. This is just a stepping stone.

I can't even.

So, it's Monday at 3:45 in the afternoon. Normally, I'd be napping right around this time because I've had a hard day of classes and minimal sleep. That, right now, is half true. It was a difficult day of classes. I got more sleep than normal last night. I don't know how, but I managed it.

But, that's not the point of this post. This Monday, I'm freaking out. This Monday, I can't sleep in the middle of the afternoon. I have too much to do this Monday. I have a paper due next Monday at 11:30. I have a class before it, so it's not like I can stay up all night and do it. No, it has to get done.

Normally that wouldn't be an issue. I can get it done, even if I have to be awake until 7am the day of. I can do it and do it well, because I am a fucking beast.

The problem comes when I plan on going out Thursday night to a movie, then Friday night to a party with Mr. Physical (if he doesn't decide to do something else that night, which very well may happen), and leaving Saturday night open for possibly another party with another boy. That leaves not a whole hell of a lot of time to do this damn 6-10 page paper critiquing International Relations theories, most likely either liberalism or neorealism, depending on my mood. I think I'm going to do liberalism merely because it's my favorite theory and I have a bunch of resources at my disposal for it. It's not like I don't for neorealism, but I just don't like that one as much. Friday night, I want to look cute. Not because it's a "date" with this boy. It's not a date. I don't consider going to a party with someone, as friends, a "date." I consider going to a party with someone as friends as going to a party. Just because he's male doesn't mean that I can't go to a party with him like I go to parties with my female friends. I should go with Cute Trumpet Player, but I'll settle for going with Mr. Physical. He offered first. If he ends up not going with me, I'll talk to Cute Trumpet Player and see what he's up for doing.

No matter what way this ends up going, I need to find something to wear. That is essential. I want to look fucking hot. Not just cute as normal. No. I want to look hot. I am capable of it, I know it. Not usually, because usually I just don't give a fuck. No. Now I'm giving a fuck. Now I need to. This is the moment of truth. Just because he doesn't want to "date" creepy stalker girl, doesn't mean he doesn't want to date me, right? Exactly. I don't know if I still want to date him, I think I want to find someone a little more decent than him, but I could make it work, I suppose. Maybe he'll just be the starting off point. I don't know.

I do know I need to find an outfit. And I have no idea what to do.

Fuck.

Resisting Temptation...or not!

I finally heard from Mr. Physical today. Did not expect that at all. My heart skipped a full beat and a half when I saw that pop up on my computer screen. It all started with just a simple "hey" as it always does. And from there it just proceeded to get messy.

Apparently, he was turned on by my slut-tastic antics on Quail Street about a month ago now. He saw me with not one, but two different guys within a span of an hour. Awful job by me.

We talked about Kegs & Eggs, the annual big, drunken mess that St. Patrick's Day Weekend always becomes in Albany. He mentioned that it's a sloppy, slutty weekend. I told him I could use one of those, he offered to take me out with him next Friday night (after seeing the skank fest on Quail Street that night, how could he not?!) and I, stupidly, decided to take him up on that offer.

What the fuck am I even gonna wear?! I'll find something. I always do.

But the bigger issue becomes why? Why can't I just stop with him? Why can't I say no? I don't even know anymore. I know I've written before about how he has some kind of hold over me, but now, it's just even more evident.

Now I know we won't ever actually date though. This is a positive fact. Apparently, he's got this stalker (which made me laugh quite a bit, to be honest) and I asked him why she's stalking him. He says that "she's just that type of girl who doesn't get what hooking up is...like traditional relationships. This is fucking college."

Mhmm. I see how it is. Obviously you just want to fuck me. Obviously right now, I'm perfectly okay with that. Maybe this conversation will get Hockey Boy out of my head. At this point, I'd settle for anyone other than him. I'll even keep the sex dreams if they don't contain him.

I don't know why this is happening though. I need it to stop.

This isn't cute anymore.

Last night, I had the fourth straight night of dreams about this one particular boy. The hockey boy. The one that couldn't ever possibly be interested in dating me. That one. Anyway, it was a strange dream:

It started out me going to a party and getting really drunk with one of the guys from Pep Band, as discussed late last night via facebook chat. It was a good time, me dancing, drinking, doing what I normal college kids do at parties. I started out dancing with Pep Band guy, then he went to go get another beer and met up with Hockey Boy. For some reason, while being across the room, I was still privy to their conversation. "Dude, she's wasted." "I'll take her." And they switched. Hockey Boy ended up with me, and obviously with me having a crush on him, I was simply pleased. Hockey Boy and I were dancing and making out. 

Then, I got a phone call. It was from Mr. Physical. He, for some reason, decided to call me because he thought he saw me out downtown with some guy that wasn't him. I told him that I'd gone out. No big deal. Then he asked me if I was still out. I obviously was. Then he realized that I was extremely drunk and tried to persuade me to come back to campus and be with him. I told him "I wanna sober up a little bit first...OOH I WANT ONE OF THOSE!" as a random waiter walks by with a platter full of Jell-O shots. He laughed, then asked me how having another Jell-O shot would get me to sober up. I just laughed, said I didn't know, and downed it. I told him that I'd have to go and I'd talk to him either when I got back on campus or the next day. 

Hockey Boy finally took the phone from me, hung it up, and put it in my pocket. He and I returned to what we were doing pre-phone call, and then he persuaded me to go up to a room upstairs where we proceeded to have sex.

There was another dream...that I just remembered. I don't understand why I've been dreaming so lucidly lately.

For some reason, my entire group of friends (about all 20 of us) were in a room together. Steinmetz 207 of course! However, it's really rare that we're all together at the same time. Anyway, we decided for some strange reason to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. There's a very disproportionate ratio of males-to-females in my group of friends, and there is a very small number of straight males. Regardless, we decided to play. I started, and I ended up with, you guessed it, Hockey Boy. There was an issue about where we'd end up having our seven minutes. We ended up in the bathroom. (Joke made by me: "It wouldn't be the first time." I know I'd make that joke in real life.) We're standing very close together and he asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I would be ready for anything and everything. He was like, "Shit, I don't have a condom." I was like, "They've got a whole bunch out there...remember sexuality week where they handed out free condoms? The common room has them floating around everywhere. Just yell out there and they'll toss you one." So that's what he did. And that's what happened. We ended up having sex against the bathroom door. Then, he dragged me out of there and to another room, laughing all the way, so we could have sex again. 

And then I woke up and tried to go back to sleep because it was about 4am at this time.

Last night was probably the worst night of sleep I've gotten since coming home. And now I'm awake about six hours after going to bed. Ugh.

Always one foot on the ground?

As soon as my brother and parents are all asleep and I'm certain of it, I'm going into the kitchen and fixing myself a drink so I can finish this damn paper. I'm stressed out and I know drinking'll take a little of the edge off. I need to relax and that's the best way I can think of right now. I don't know why I'm so keyed up tonight. I can't seem to relax at all. Not one bit. Nothing is helping.

I'm still thinking about him and I can't stop and it's making me angry. I haven't spoken to him in over a week now, going on two, but even then it's not right. I'm still thinking about him. I read somewhere about the attachment women get to the men they have sex with because sex releases some strange, special chemical into their brains. I laughed at the time because I idnd't quite believe in it. I thought I could get out of this without being hurt. And now, look at me. Blogging away about him again because I have nothing better to do. Lie, I should be writing this paper. I just can't seem to focus on it. But there you go. I've got it bad for him and I can't fucking help it. Quitting you is like quitting smoking. It's hard for the first week and then it gets easier from there. (I still struggle with that sometimes and right now, I really could use a smoke. Fortunately, I don't have any.)

I'm a hot mess and a half tonight.

Taking the good with the bad, and a spoonful of sugar helps this medicine go down.

Good: I haven't made an effort to talk to you yet. Nor will I. That's a good thing. It shows I'm making an effort to get away from you and get over this and move on with my life. I'm going to find something better than you, I know it.

I can't stop thinking about you though. I don't know why, you've been the only thing on my mind since late last night. I've been extraordinarily sexually frustrated since last night and I think that's a big reason why I've been thinking about you. We didn't get together this week and so I've been feeling it a little longer than normal, and especially now that we're on break it'll suck a lot more. I know I want to give you up, but honestly, I just miss the way you touch me and make me feel. I don't know.

It'll be difficult. I'm going to try at least.