It’s been over a month since my last post. It’s been quieter than usual — I haven’t felt like going out as much, and I’ve been less enthusiastic when I do. Dating J__ has been just fulfilling enough that I haven’t been on the full-time prowl, though yes, I’ll cop to a bit of mostly-innocent moonlighting here and there.
Once again, T__ and I had been out of touch long enough I figured she’d gotten bored with me and moved on. And once again, it wasn’t too long after reaching that conclusion that she sent me a note wanting to hang out.
The story is a lot less interesting than the punchline, so although it’s not my habit, I’ll skip right to it: Yesterday I had sex with both of them.
I’ve never had the means or motive before. I ought to be victory-punching the sky right now, but my heart isn’t in it so-to-speak. Instead I’m depressed and in my least favorite way — for no good reason and in spite of many very good reasons not to be.
The closest thing I feel to love is the still-lingering obsession I have for E__. It’s absurd — it’s been longer since we stopped going out than we actually dated, and still, when my heart reaches out for someone to care about, it’s her. More than likely, a classic case of wanting what you can’t have.
It’s been a month or two since I’ve so much as seen her on the street, making this infatuation all the more ridiculous. So naturally I ran into her Friday night while crawling art gallery openings with J__. I had an immediate “oh-no” reaction to spotting her — like I’d been busted cheating. I try to remember the things about her I didn’t like (were there any?) or the signs that we weren’t compatible, but it’s all gone. A hazy dream forgotten months ago.