I went to Ian's. Just got back. I know, I'm a little too happy about it!!! I like being too happy about stuff... it's awesome! As I was walking down there I was thinking, yes, I know Mom is right and I know that I need to get over him but I also know that I am getting over him. I am not pining over him. I think about him less and less. But sometimes. Just sometimes. I cheat a little tiny bit. It's my chocolate. A bi-weekly indulgence into what could have been.
She's there. He says that she isn't moving in but she's there. She does his cleaning and she mows his lawn. She sucks on his penis and she pets his dog. That's mine! All of it is mine and I hate her for taking it! I hate her! Fucking skinny, fucking bitch with the ready-made family that I can't offer him. He has reclaimed his Mr. Mom life and it looks good on him. I wish he loved me. I do. I do. I wish I wish I wish. I don't think I have ever allowed myself to say that before - before I found the walls, I mean. It makes me cry but mostly it makes me happy. I can love. I can. I believe. I finally believe. And I want him back.
I was giggling to myself that I am now blatantly pursuing a man who is in another relationship. I don't care. I want him and I have to try. How could I forgive myself if I didn't try? And, again, I know that, as I continue to get closer to other men I will get further away from him. And I can accept that if that's what needs to happen. I know things will turn out right in the long run but right now I feel that I have to follow my instincts - that is why things turn out in the long run, isn't it?
I love him. I just love being around him. He's so fucking funny. I was talking to my dad today and thinking how sad it is that Dad now reminds me of Ian instead of the other way around. I think my dad has potential to be like Ian other than in humor, too. I think that my dad is the same kind of soft hearted, gentle person but he never learned that it was okay. When he brought me to the emergency room after my motorcycle accident when I was 16, he turned away when tears came to his eyes because he didn't want me to see. How fucking sad is that? He pushed me away when I needed him the most because he thought that it was worse for me to see him cry than to pull away from a hug when I cried; sad that I read it as rejection, proof.
That's what Ian does for me. Ian holds me... okay, past tense. Poop. Ian held me when I cried. His problem was that I wasn't able to let him because my dad taught me that it was better to reject him. It is wrong to show emotion. We aren't allowed to do that. Ian reached out his hand to help me and I pushed him away because my mom taught me, not only that I could do anything, but also that I had to do everything.
Oh sigh. I wonder if any cute boy has sent me an email since I've been gone. (See? It's working... just as I knew it would, just as I know it will. Evil twin be gone!! I rock!)
