tonight, in n.y.

i think he's not going to call. but he promised.

thought creation

i asked him if he could read my mind. he seemed to be at breakfast. i've never been able to hide my feelings, that could be all it is. he is so intellegent and also a good "con man". that could be all it is. his intuitiveness combined with my obviousness. but i've noticed it other times too, he'll say out of nowhere exactly what i need to hear.

i asked him what are thoughts? he wasn't sure, but he said they aren't protien like long term memory is. he said it could be possible that during the process of thought creation something could be sent out that another person could recieve. but he said what's happening between us is simpler: that i am a part of him, an extension of him, and so it follows that he should be able to sense my thoughts as if they were his own.

proof

a year ago, i didn't think you existed. i didn't think this would be possible, to feel this way about someone and have it be so reciprocal. i certainly wasn't looking for you. but that is all a lie. because i was so lonely, even then i missed you. because i've always believed that this existed, and i've been looking for you all of my life.

how did he know?

he wanted me to decide between the impanema beach salad and the spinach and chicken quesadillas. i couldn't. so he suggested we rock paper scissors for it. i wanted to tell him to order the quesadillas, but he spoke too fast. he said that way either it'll force you to tell me what you really want right now, or i'll see from your face whether your happy or disappointed after we play. how could i tell him then? but the waitress came over too quickly, i think it was closer to closing time than i like to be, so we didn't have time to play for it, so he asked me again, and when he looked at me i said i really could go for either, and then he smiled and said we'll have the quesadillas. how did you know, i said. and he just said, i know you.

this morning, lying in bed, i said i have a doctor's appointment today. and he said oh. then he said, you know you don't have to get on the pill. i didn't tell him, but he knew. i really don't want to. i'd been thinking i might not. i like to think that anything's possible. that if it's meant to happen it will. i thought it would be good to go to the doctors, and that i'd get a prescription, and that then i would decide whether to fill it. i would tell him, but i hadn't yet. so how did he know?

ready

I've always wanted someone to love me like this, he said. and i think he means freely, honestly, openly. not holding back pieces so you have something whole left at the end, for yourself. for that implies doubt, and there's no room for doubt in love. i refuse to do that. let fear hold me back. extravagantly. that's how i want to love. i'd only heard that word used to describe spending habits, wild parties. never love. when i first heard it i almost cried. he was a priest. talking about how cruel humans can be. love extravagantly, he said, and leave the rest to god. that's all you have to do. it's so exactly how i want to live. without fear, without selfishness, without pretensions. you need to go all the way, eric said today. just jump off the ledge, you can't go after love half-heartedly. he said, i'm ready for everything, bring it on. and that's love. overwhelming, drowning, consuming. i'm ready for everything.

wasted

yesterday was so tense. we had a weird moment. i was clingy and ultrasensitive. i was freaked out about the semi-tantrum i threw over the roomate-entertaining drunk girls-wedding ring picture. he was stressed about his research talk and upset about having bought powerpoint for $250 and only realizing during installation that it was already on the computer. i thought he had an attitude and he thought i was mad that he was working at home. we went back and forth: are you mad at me? no, are you mad at me? do you still love me? yes, do you still love me?

finally, do you think we are too sensitive? YES. do you think we overtalk everything? YES. and no. i love communication. in that respect he's the perfect man. not only is he willing to let me verbally analyze every little thing that occurs, he actively participates and even begins some of the discussion. and he doesn't mind going over the same thing again and again. perfect. except that he's feeding a neurosis that i inherited from my mother and have been fighting twenty six years to break.

he worked while i organized pictures on my new laptop. he looked over my shoulder.
is that him?
yes.
you don't have to delete them.
i want to. do you want to see my wedding pictures?
and he said sure.

i had the prettiest wedding, the most beautiful day. if you didn't know better, if you were just looking from outside, you'd think it was perfect. and the wedding was. but even then i knew that he was wrong.

then he brought out the two photo albums she left tied with a big white satin bow around them. do you want to see these? i knew it was a bad idea, but i said ok anyway. i hate seeing him like that. young. in new york. studying. their first apartment. graduation. breakfast in bed on his birthday, shirtless. adorable. holding a big bouquet of flowers out for her. and her stupid cutesy captions typed out in pink and black next to everything. i can't think of him like that. i want him to be just mine. i want to be his memories. i knew i shouldn't have looked.

i think that's why i don't take pictures like i used to. it's so pointless. so fake. wasted energy, wasted emotions, useless memories. i have all of these pictures from the past. smiling and happy with someone. but i don't want pictures of it, i want to still be smiling and happy.

downstairs

it's funny the way memories work. one minute you can be sitting downstairs in the dirty garage under his apartment building, cross-legged holding your still full bottle of beer and smoking a cigarette, listening to sewage flush through the pipes overhead and watching people bring their wet dogs up in the elevators. and he says you are beautiful. and instantly you are sitting on your chair in the little greek restaurant, moments out of the freezing rain and snow, you've just taken off your hat and gloves and coat, the lady asks if you mind if she turns off the television in favor of some music, and you are giddy with love and changes happening everywhere around you, and he takes your hands across the table and he looks in your eyes and he says you are beautiful.