UGH, Facebook. Are you trying to ruin my life?

I spent most of my lunch break on Facebook, commenting on different friends' links. One friend posted a map with the list of what each country ranks #1 in. I was kind of proud that the U.S. ranked #1 in serial killers. (Mexico ranked #1 in televisions and Canada ranked #1 in juice drinkers.)

I scroll down the page and see a link another friend posted about the new unemployment rate in the city: 10.3%. A couple people had posted serious comments about the economy, but I was feeling funny this afternoon. So I wrote:

"Apparently I've dated 10.3% of the metro population."

I leaned back in my chair, feeling so proud of my comment. It achieved so much. A dig at S. A dig at Christopher. The friend who posted the link went with me to the baseball game on Sunday where we talked about all of our bad dating decisions and I kept running on about how rare it is to find a guy who has a driver's license, job and bank account at the same time. So it also achieved an inside joke between us. It was also the first time I've even mentioned a dating life on Facebook; I don't talk about dates or feelings on there.

And of course because I think I am so funny, I keep checking back on the site for all the replies to my funny comment. The poster responds to the other serious economy posts and then turns his attention to me:

"@Sarah - To be fair... it's hard finding jobs for all of your 550,000 ex-boyfriends."

The other serious commenters respond, and then so do I:

"Well that just makes me feel old."

And then he takes the win:

"I guess you can cross off 'Date 500,000 men' off of your 30 x 30 list."

For the first time, I start reading the serious comments. The reason the city's economy is in the crapper is because our living supply outweighs our demand by about 5 years blah, blah, blah. One girl is talking about not being able to hire qualified employees in her sector, which just so happens to be the same sector as M-Joy, who always comments that she needs a new job when she gets mad at her boss. I look closer at her name, wondering if I can get the poster to make an introduction a la LinkedIn--

And then it smacks me in the face.

Her last name is the same last name as Adam's. Adam was a guy I dated about three-and-a-half years ago. He was 11 years older than me and he was too handsome, too rich, too generous—just about anything "too"—than me. At the time, I could not possibly fathom what this guy saw in average me. And I liked him too much and my self-esteem was too low. He eventually told me that he was also dating someone else and they decided to commit and make a go of things. (I wrote about it here and here. Some of my best writing was about it him. Shame.)

A quick e-mail to my friend, the poster of the link, confirmed that she was married to Adam. And judging by the age of their DAUGHTER, she was indeed the girl he chose over me.

I leaned back in my chair for the second time today and felt like doing a slow clap. Because the next time Adam logs on Facebook, he's going to see his wife's activity along with my name and my picture and running commentary that I've spent the last three-and-a-half years dating 500,000 unemployed men.

Bravo, Facebook. Bravo.

You can't just make up this kind of humiliation.

On the plus side, Adam always did think I was funny. On the plus, plus side, I got to narrow my eyes at her picture and say aloud, "I've slept with your husband."

Living Dead

"I am a writer, writer of fictions...
And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones"
-- The Decemberists, "The Engine Driver"

I don't know if I didn't want to publicly acknowledge Adam's return for fear of calling a false alarm or for fear of jinxing it and having him disappear again.

He said he wanted to be friends. He said he "actually [meant] it this time." However, our e-mails had been getting further and further apart. Adam had become less responsive about the details regarding his life and had just been inquisitive about mine. I somewhat understood the situation: he had a new relationship that required his nurturing.

Sometime in late November I had sent him a "where are you?" e-mail. He responded within a half-hour, saying he was really busy with finals for law school and that I would receive a proper response over the weekend. The weekend came and went. The following week came and went. It took him two weeks to respond and even at that, it was composed of roughly two sentences.

I knew I had to let Adam go. Every time I sent Adam a letter or a response to his, I was giving away pieces of myself to him that I would never get back. Adam had been very good about keeping tabs on me: he still visits another one of my blogs daily and checks my MySpace in addition to his e-mails. However, I knew nothing about him. I deleted his last response and walked away.

When I returned from my beach vacation right before New Year's, I logged on to my computer for the first time in almost a week. And I almost toppled over. Adam had sent me an e-mail on Christmas Day. I clicked over and read his first. It was a personalized e-mail, not a mass one. Moreover, he sent it at 11:45 AM instead of around 4PM when the magic of Christmas wears off and everything is kind of... boring.

Adam thought about me on Christmas morning. Did I think of him? I'm not sure. I do know that at 11:45 I was driving across the state to switch families and do Christmas with my father. I didn't get any other messages on Christmas Day. Matter of fact, I didn't even respond to the three text messages I received. Was he lonely? Did he not have his daughter? It would have been his first Christmas without her. Where was his girlfriend? If that relationship was a long time coming like he said, they should be practically living together by now. Why was he thinking of me?

Stunned, I couldn't respond to his e-mail. I was fixing to go back out of town to spend New Year's Eve with David; I didn't have time to anguish over an e-mail that wouldn't get a response. Sometime in the new year right before I started work again, I sent him an "Adam" response: I'm well. I had a drama-free Christmas and I just got back from vacation.

Within a couple of days Adam broke tradition and responded, requesting more details and elaborating on his own. So I did. And he did. It's been a couple of weeks like this. Friday morning my inbox was filled with several messages from Adam. The building I live in was apparently featured on "House Hunters" and he had been giving me updates from the show.

The old Adam is back: Classic Adam. I liked Classic Adam. I liked Classic Adam a lot. Ex-Adam, not so much.

I am hurt: Classic Adam chose someone else over me. I played the game right, and I lost.

I am angry: I am friends with 99% of my exes for one reason: they all leave me and they all come back. If I am so cool and valued like they say I am, then why to they leave in the first place? What about me is so volatile that they walk way? I already know why they come back. Just once I'd like to break this cycle -- I want someone who knows what he has and doesn't throw it[me] away.

I am confused: What's with the sudden return? Did something change? I'm a person who prefers the dark as opposed to knowing the truth. Because in the dark there's hope.

Am I hoping?

I guess I am.

We're over. I'm fine with that. I accept that. Matter of fact, I'm a proponent for that. Our relationship was one big bang followed by a slow but steady decline. I know that you and I are better friends than lovers.

So when you asked me how my speed date went, I gave you the honest truth. I told you that the men looked at me like I had a contagious skin disease. I told you I wanted just one yes, even if it was from the really really boring guy, to prove that I'm not a boy-pariah. I admitted these things to you because those are the things I would tell a friend, but hide from a lover.

But your actions confuse me. The response you gave me was really great, but there was something dismissive about the remark you made towards my potential dates.

And then there's the blog-stalking. I told you I didn't want you reading my blog, but you searched for it and found it anyway. I knew that. I knew that before things were over. You used to log on about once every four days and only to read posts that pertained to you, but that has changed since the breakup. You check my blog every day from your home computer, work computer, school lap top, and, today, from your cell phone. Why are you giving me more attention now that we're over?

Why are you all of a sudden hanging on every word of mine? Are you just curious? Am I just that good of a writer? That funny?

Are you jealous?

Were you out with her when you checked my blog on your cell phone? (You know I hated it when you checked your football scores on your phone while you were out with me. We used to laugh about it.)

I don't blame you for it. I know you don't know about site trackers and how I can see everything. I don't think you would check it as often if you knew that.

But here's the thing: I come home from mediocre dates and log onto my computer to find out you've been at my site. Again. And, at the very least, you've been thinking about me. It confuses me. It makes me wonder what you're thinking about me, and why you're thinking about me.

It makes me miss you.

And these mediocre dates are only confirming that maybe I liked you a little more than I let on.

And I'm scared because I still keep your e-mails.

I cried to let you go; I didn't cry for you. I'm scared that if things keep going the way they are, one of these days you might win some tears of mine. And it is a strict policy of mine to never cry for a boy.

But you don't have access to this diary, so you'll never know that I'm thinking about you right now. And even though you think you know everything there is about me (and obviously you like it because you keep coming back), you'll never know about this place. You'll never have the whole truth.

That maybe I liked you a little more than I let on.

And I'm scared.

Afterthoughts

Hi Sarah,

I wouldn't disappear off the face of the earth - especially not with you! ;-)

I was serious about maintaining a friendship... it is a typical thing to say, but I do actually mean it this time, lol! I really do like you as well and you have a sense of humor that is totally to my liking.

I would like to still read the books - I will take care of them - anytime you want them back, just say so. I will probably be able to bust through them after finals in early December (scary thing is that that isn't very far away).

Good luck tonight, can't wait to hear about that!!

Adam

It was the e-mail that broke my crying ban. I didn't even realize that I was crying until the paper towel I keep at my desk for spills was soaked completely through. I wasn't hurt or disappointed that things were officially over, if anything I was relieved. Finally I wouldn't have to worry or stress over him anymore. He had a friendship that turned into something more over the weekend and they decided to give the relationship a chance. Sounds like something that happens only in movies, how could I not root for it?

It's funny how with the breakup, I can be honest for the first time. I had never said to Adam that I liked him before my response. It's understood when you're holding hands and kissing in the park, but I wasn't able to actually verbalize it until then. Adam had never really verbalized it before either. Sure there were "You're cute" and "You're a smart girl" tucked in e-mails, but the boy never said "I really like you" until now.

It was over and I felt relieved and eerily calm. I guess the tears were a release-- I was letting go of everything. I couldn't be upset with him; he was a nice break from reality. In the last year, he was the only man to take me out on proper dates. If anything, he taught me what I should expect and hold out for.

No, I couldn't be upset with him.

I stuck a thumb under each eye and wiped the last of the tears away, careful not to smear my makeup. I had 15 dates that night to prepare for.

Adam,

I completely understand where you're coming from and I wish the best for the both of you. Seriously, I do. I also really appreciate you taking the time to tell me instead of disappearing off the face of the earth.

I've known for quite awhile that things weren't working for us like they had been previously. One of the reasons I kept in contact with you though is because I genuinely like you as a person. I hope you were sincere when you expressed you wanted to remain friends because I would enjoy that as well.

Hold onto my books for now, if you still want to read them. I'm not in any hurry to get them back, although I would like to see them again eventually. Since it sounds like you've got so much going on right now, I'll wait for you to contact me if you were serious about the friends thing.

I actually have speed dating tonight, so wish me luck on that!

Sarah

Wanted: one snuggle monkey for rainy nights and office Christmas parties

Last Tuesday was a wake up call for me. I was seeing someone whom I did not feel comfortable calling. My intentions were innocent enough: obtain a snuggle monkey for a rainy night. I wasn't asking him to spend money. Hell, I wasn't even asking him to wear pants. Still, it was a low maintenance request that I didn't feel comfortable making.

I like Adam. I do. He's smart, handsome, and affectionate. But he's never there. I'm not a needy person by any means, but I need to see the man I'm dating at least one night every two weeks. Because I wasn't getting that from him, I didn't feel comfortable on the random get together.

I wish I was strong enough to tell Adam not to bother anymore, but I can't cut him loose without any prospects. I've decided to do my best to replace him as quickly as possible. I reactivated my online profile. I've also signed up for a speed date this week. If I spread my romantic interests as thinly as Adam does, then it won't matter that I'm having a relationship with him via my e-mail account.

And if I'm not comfortable asking for a random rainy night together, then I'm definitely not comfortable asking him to my office Christmas party. I got an invitation addressed to me and my "spouse" in the mail today. With only two single people in the company, it must have slipped their minds that not everyone has a spouse. Whatever happened to "employee plus one?" Not romantic enough?

Dreams

It's cold and rainy. I just want to feel with abandon and call him. Forget my rule of never calling boys. Forget my rule of letting him lead and I decided whether to follow or not.

I want to call him and offer to come over and cook a big messy pot of chili. The kind my step-mother makes. Afterwards we'll wipe our cold noses and make a nest on the couch. He'll remove the back pillows so we fit perfectly. I'll be the little spoon; he'll be the big spoon. He'll wrap me in his blue itchy blanket and he'll flip through the channels and we'll mock whatever we watch. I'll beg him to light a fire and he'll turn me down, giving me one good reason followed by four bad ones. Just to drive the point home. He'll bury his face in my neck and readjust his arm around me with a squeeze. I'll lean my head back to meet his lips and everything else will be forgotten. Even the light rain on his balcony.

But that's what rainy days are for, right? Dreaming?

My microwave dinner awaits me...

But he laughed too

I just found out that Adam has a gay brother.

I'm sitting here counting all the jokes I made about pink tank tops that go down to men's nipples while walking with him in front of the gay bookstore that's next to his building.

I can think of at least four.

The road to hell is paved with something something

Adam opened his front door right as I approached it.

"Do you want to come in? Or are you ready?"

"No, I'm ready."

It was an awkward moment and then he leaned in to kiss me. The kiss felt forced. He turned and locked his door.

"You look really good."

I should. I spent an hour getting ready. I was freshly shaved. My body was loofaed. I curled my hair. Even my makeup and complexion were perfect. I actually rubbed my blush off so I would look less like a porcelain doll.

I scrunched my face up. "Is that what you look like? I thought you were hotter..."

Adam laughed and pinched my side. The ice was broken.

He looked at me again. "Nice shoes, ballet slippers?"

"Well, modeled after. These are the expensive leather recreations. I have the real ones at home."

He thought for a second. "You wore them so I would feel tall."

I couldn't hide my smile. "They're my only winter flats. I thought it was a nice gesture! You better be glad I did because I would be bitching if I was walking to the park in three inch heels."

At the park we ended up with the same table we sat at the first time we came. Adam gave up the best seat so I wouldn't have my eyes in the setting sun.

I was relaxed and I was happy that neither of us had to work in the morning. We both had Columbus Day off, which was a pretty unusual day for businesses to grant their employees. I began drinking. I realized after drink five that I should probably quit, but I didn't feel a thing. I also hadn't stood up yet.

I like to think I held my liquor well. I got a bit chatty and opened up to him about my parents.

"I don't know why they got married to be honest."

"Well, it's a good thing they did," and he flashed his knowing look and he didn't have to explain further.

Two more drinks and I talked superficially about other guys I dated, a topic that was previously off limits. I had never mentioned another man before tonight; I could have been a nun for all he knew. Even partially intoxicated, I was still careful not to give too much information. All he knows is that I've dated. A lot.

We paused on our walk back home and stopped and picked up a pint of Ben & Jerry's and we stood over his sink eating the bowls of ice cream. I scooped the rest of mine into his dish and watched horrified as he dumped the uneaten portion in the sink and poured tap water on it.

Adam crossed the room and sat down on his couch and motioned for me to follow. I crashed on the couch and snuggled up against his chest with my nose to his starched buttons.

"Mmm," he groaned. I freaking love that.

I inhaled. I knew that scent, but I had too much alcohol to name it. I buried my face in his chest and he laughed.

"What are you wearing?"

"Armani."

"I knew it! Gio. Aqua di Gio."

"Yup."

I inhaled again. "It's my favorite scent of all time. I can't be trusted around it. It just does things to me."

"I like it too."

"No, I mean I almost got slapped with sexual harassment at a job because a guy sat down next to me wearing it and I kept invading his personal space so I could smell him. Another time I found myself following some stranger in the mall just to smell him. I wasn't even aware I had fully turned around to follow him for several minutes. It just drives me crazy."

So maybe I was a little drunker than I thought. I can't believe I just admitted that out loud to another soul.

Adam began to kiss me. And like I told him, I can't control myself around that scent. I took it as a sign from above that it was okay for me to get booty that night. Well that and the seven liquor drinks wore down all my inhibitions. I learned that after he had me screaming like a porn star to only realize he left his windows open.

Talk about advertising.

Give me strength

I will not have sex with Adam tonight.
I will not have sex with Adam tonight.
I will not have sex with Adam tonight.

And this is where I should have lied redux

We've played this game before.

I'm not a liar. It's not that I'm opposed to it, I'm just really terrible at it. Let's just be clear that I would totally lie if I could get away with it.

So Adam calls for the first time since the unmetioned naked activity:

Adam: Hey.
Sarah: Hey stranger.
Adam: Whatcha doin?
Sarah: Having a debate with an Australian about spitting versus swallowing.
Adam: ...
Adam: ...
Sarah: ...
Adam: As if there's even a debate!

30 minute chat but still no date invite. Actually not a shocker considering.

Winners and Losers

I may be old-fashioned in this thinking, but I've always subscribed to the belief that men are stronger than women. I mean, there's a reason why there's not a women's baseball or football team. The lines may be blurred regarding which gender wins mentally and emotionally, but physically speaking, I've always been able to say, "Fine. You win."

Well that and I've never done a pull-up in my life, so personally it's a pretty easy concession for me.

The glaring exception to this, however, is pain. Women are much more stoic when it comes to pain.

My father once had his toenail removed. After he was done crying, he took a week's worth of codeine and we found him passed out on the bathroom floor. After an unfortunate accident lifeguarding, and I too was missing a toenail. I simply put a Band-Aid on it so I wouldn't have to look at it while it grew back.

You want to talk pain? We get cramps that feel like someone is tattooing our uteruses from the inside. Every month. That shit hurts, yet we are expected to get fully dressed and go into work and have clever thoughts all day long whereas we really want to lie in the fetal position and suck our thumbs while guessing what symbol is getting inked on our insides this month. I would like to see a man deal with that.

But not Adam.

In my morning e-mails from Adam, he briefs me on his gym class and what new injury he sustained that morning. The first week I felt sympathetic for him. Starting a new workout routine is very painful. Moreover it's not a pain others can see: there's no cut, no blood.

By the second week, I thought, Wow, this guy kinda complains a lot.

By the third week I thought, I wonder if complaining is just his thing?

Yesterday I get my morning report from Adam. Oh, looks like he reinjured his hamstring. He'll just do what he's done in the past-- moan about it all day long and be fine the next morning.

By lunch I received an update-- he tried to "be a good boy" and iced his leg.

I laughed.

By my nightly e-mail, it seemed poor Adam's leg had worsened:

This was a bit much, even for a girl whose father ODs on codeine for a toe nail.

"You have a wound on top of a wound on top of a wound?" I wrote. "Give it a couple of days before you get all hypochondriac on yourself and start diagnosing yourself off the internet."

For the record, I would have said that to any of my friends had they pulled the same thing.

Adam was not happy with my response:

Any mention of pending plans this weekend were dropped.

Was I too harsh? Maybe. I opened the reply window and typed, "Aw, I feel kinda bad for calling you a hypochondriac." I stared at my words. No, better not use the H-word again seeing as how it didn't go over so well the first time. I deleted and started again. "Aw, I feel kinda bad about the teasing I gave you," I wrote. "Glad it is easily remedied."

"Hehe..." he replied. "It's ok, I'm tough."

I laughed so hard I drooled on myself.

Sarah- Love, Adam- 30

Hi Sarah!

I should have some time to see you this weekend if I end up staying in town. I have [my daughter] overnight Fri and may take a last minute trip somewhere on Sat - Mon/Tues though. I'll let you know.

Adam

---

Hi Adam!

I'm not sure what my plans are this weekend-- I'm going out of town on either Friday or Saturday night. Maybe we can catch up another time. Keep me posted.

Sarah

---

In case you weren't keeping score, that would be a plus one to me. I really am going out of town this weekend, but it felt good to say it, especially to his "if I can't find anything better to do this weekend" invite.

I wonder how this would play out according to Indy's rules?

Not asking for much here

I have some very supportive friends. I should feel like a very lucky girl, right? However, if one more person brings up Adam, I'm seriously going to lose my cool.

• He still e-mails me every day.
• He has not mentioned us going out again.
• Hell if I'm going to be the one to bring it up.
• My guess is that he's pursuing someone else and is keeping me on the back burner.
• Life on the back burner is pretty effing boring.
• I'm okay.
• I'm okay, really.
• Stop asking me if I'm okay.

In other news, MWG has downgraded his adulterous attempts to phone sex.

• That is not happening either.

Now if we can only get someone who isn't married to say these kinds of things to me, that would be great.

Words

Nonplussed.

I don't think I've ever used that word to describe myself before, but there it is. I am nonplussed.

And a bit cold.

Adam e-mailed me three times on Wednesday and has since remained in consistent contact with me. I have no idea what changed his recent skanky behavior, but I have my guesses.

Impassive.

That's how I feel towards him. I grieved for him on Sunday and once I close someone off to me, it's nearly impossible to let him back in. I have followed his lead with the communication frequency, but his letters mean nothing to me. I don't know what to say back; I have nothing to say back.

Adam: (via e-mail) My life is WAY too busy. Being married in a dull, unloving relationship was much easier in many ways!
Sarah: ...

In his 180 he's been kind and sweet, but after all they're only words.

Like impassive.

Or nonplussed.

Retail Therapy. Oh, and Adam's back

"OH. MY. GOD."

N and Married Work Guy ran into my cubicle, "What's wrong!?"

They're genuinely concerned for me; I laughed. "Oh, um nothing. It's just that Adam e-mailed me."

"Exactly how long has it been since you've heard from him?" N asks.

"A week ago this morning. I sat on the e-mail for a couple of days before responding to sort out my feelings though."

I opened the e-mail and quickly scanned for a Dear John type letter. It was not one.

"A week since you've heard from him? That's too long."

"No shit." I scanned the e-mail again, "'I guess I've beat you on the being absent thing!! Sorry...' What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"You sound angry."

"You know what? I am! I was fine when I thought things were over. I was strangely okay with it. Now he's dragging me back in!"

"Maybe the 'being absent thing' is referring to the silence between you two and how he was the one to break it," she supposed.

"I wasn't going to be the one chasing him! When we were together he would receive text messages from the girl he dated before me. He would laugh and delete the message without responding. There was no way I was going to be that girl! Have him laugh at me with someone else! I have more pride than that!"

"Good for you."

"You know what? I have no idea what to do here. I have never been in this situation before. Usually when they leave, they don't come back."

I sat down and opened up the reply box. I couldn't even type in a greeting without having to run to the bathroom. Nervousness makes me have to pee. After five trips to the bathroom before noon, I decided to put off my response.

Again at lunch, I tried again. N popped over to my desk and tried to help me. "Be sure to call him out on his absence," she said.

My mind went blank. "I need shoes," I said.

"What?"

"I need shoes. New black winter heels." I was so far away in my head, I wasn't even looking at her.

"What are you talking about?"

I closed the window again and got up from my desk and walked out of the office. I drove to a shoe store and promptly bought new black winter heels.

Adam just cost me $86.35. And I still don't know what to say.

Enough

It's Sunday night and I'm left to my own devices again. Sure, Adam said he'd be busy this weekend and to not expect to hear from him, but I still wanted something. A five minute phone call. Hell, a response from my e-mail last Thursday would even be nice. I know a lot of you are rooting for Adam, but... this is just getting too hard. I don't like disappointment.

What this is boiling down to is how much he likes me. Schedule or no schedule, I fear the answer is, "Not enough." Not enough for him, or not enough for me-- I don't know which-- but either way it's still not enough.

I'm melancholy tonight as my phone sits on my night stand. It's dead silent even though I'm shooting it mind waves to ring even as I write this. I refuse to show any emotion of my disappointment, but instead let it leak onto my keyboard.

When I get like this-- doe eyed and numb-- I always think back to a post I once read on ThisFish.com. Heather, the author, went on vacation and a friend of hers filled in for her. He tells the story of how they transitioned from lovers to friends and as she's crying on the sidewalk, he says to her, "But I'm just a boy! I'm just a stupid boy!"

That's the line I remember. But he's just a boy. He's just a stupid boy!

Don't cry, Heather.

Don't cry, Sarah.

Strangely, that line brings me a lot of comfort. I'd like to think that all guys think that about themselves, that they're not worthy of tears.

About a half hour ago I was watching TV in bed and my mind wandered. I choked back a sob, surprised by the noise I made in the first place because it's easily been six months since I've cried, and began my mantra: But he's just a boy. He's just a stupid boy!

I repeated the words faster and louder as I got up from bed and ran into the kitchen. I opened the freezer and poured myself a half shot of vodka and chose instead to focus on the burning going down my throat.

Almost-tears adverted.

Freeze

As I hinted from the last post, I don't know if I'm going to see Adam anymore.

I realize that it will be an insanely stupid move on my part if I do this, but...

Hello, Miss Have Your Cake and Eat It Too.
Hey, conscience, what's up.
You're an idiot. Just so you know.
But...
No buts on this one.
He doesn't have time for me.
You're a selfish c___.
Don't talk to me like that!!
I'm pissed off at you!
Seriously, I got another e-mail this morning that basically said, "Don't plan on seeing me this weekend either."
He didn't say it like that.
But that's what it meant.
He has completely over-extended himself and he can barely make it through the day. He's doing this with minimal complaining.
He still whines; it's kinda annoying.
You are not understanding of his needs AT ALL.
Maybe I would feel differently if he said things like, "I'll make it up to you next week."
Seriously, how girlie are you being right now.
I need to feel secure and I'm not getting that out of him.
But he's amazing otherwise. Top notch.
But I hate spending time wondering about him. Wondering if he's feeding me lines. Wondering why he doesn't try to fit me in that schedule.
I can't believe you are giving him crap about his schedule. If you haven't gotten a whole night's sleep in weeks, do you really want to square off time to spend with someone, or do you want to veg and sleep?
Sleep.
Then you can't expect anything different from him. He says it will be different when he's done with the early morning gym class.
What if that's a line? Do I really want to hang around two more weeks to find out if I've been duped?
Uh, what else are you going to do, Princess? Date all those other boys?
Er...
Just Monday he talked about fancy restaurants and taking you for ice cream.
But his actions aren't there.
He can't do that right now with the gym thing.
He couldn't go out with me on Friday.
BECAUSE HE HAS HIS DAUGHTER. WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!
It just seems like he has time for everything else but me.
I'm sure a lot of other things are slacking. Besides, he's known his friends a lot longer than you. It's only been a month, quiet down.
If only I had some assurance...
Assurance of what? That he's not going to leave? It's a free world, Baby. That's just a risk.
I just want to feel special.
There has been no communication between you two. You don't open up at all. You'll laugh and giggle over things you did that day, but the things that matter-- the things that make you you-- he knows nothing about them.
I can't get a chance when he's always this busy.
Gym will be over in two weeks.
Fine. He can have the two weeks. But if nothing changes then, I'm out.
That's fair. But you're still a bitch for not answering his e-mail this morning. You slept with him and now you're ignoring him.
I just wanted to sort out my thoughts.
You just don't want to get rejected, so you're trying to reject him first.
You know what? That's EXACTLY what this is. So what? What are you going to do about it?!?!
...
Yeah, that's what I thought.

Unmoral Compasses

It was Monday afternoon and I had not heard from Adam since Friday morning. But I had jumped and decided not to worry about it. I had faith in... something. Yes, I had faith in myself. Barring a few incidents where I wandered into the kitchen to stare at my alcohol supply, Adam hadn't stolen many of my thoughts.

"I get the feeling that he's disappearing," said N over lunch.

"Yeah, me too. I don't think I did anything wrong though." I grabbed another piece of bread from the basket between us and picked off the seeds. "I think something else is occupying his mind. It may be another girl; it may not be."

"Well if he doesn't contact you today, e-mail him in the morning and make sure you're still on for Tuesday."

"That sounds fair."

I like going to N with relationship advice. She thinks like I do. Best of all, she has the same moral compass as me-- the unmoral kind.

"And remember, if you don't think things are going to work out," she advises, "go ahead and sleep with him. That way you'll at least get your jollies."

Yes, I definitely like the way N thinks.

Just when N and I decided to employ Operation Treat Him Mean and Keep Him Keen, Adam sent me an e-mail. When I should have been happy to hear from him, I was a bit disappointed. It was too informational and not flirty. "It doesn't earn a response," I hollered over my cubicle wall at N.

Four hours and a half a bottle of wine later, I sat in front of my monitor at home and studied the e-mail for the 10th time. I looked for hidden messages, either good or bad, but of course there were none veiled behind such lines as "How was your weekend?"

I hit reply and simply wrote, "Why don't you give me a call after class and I'll tell you about it?" I emptied the wine glass in my mouth and hit send and walked away.

By the time Adam called, the wine bottle was almost empty, my legs were freshly shaven (not the best idea combining the two activities but I escaped unharmed), and I was wearing my pjs that made my ass look fantastic.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"On my couch."

"Let's hang out."

"Ok, come on over."

And I got my jollies.

Spoons

"Big spoon or little spoon?"

Adam's trying to use my terminology.

"Little spoon for movies..."

"And big spoon for sleeping," he finishes. I smile.

He removes the pillows from the couch and we climb on together with me in front, the little spoon. He lays his lower arm under my neck and wraps his free arm around me. Never in my life have I ever felt so good and safe and warm in someone else's arms. I take a moment and ponder if I just feel this way because of the absence of someone else's arms, or if it's Adam. No, even now I still can't answer that.

A couple hours later and we change locations. Instead of feeling good and safe, I feel sexy and skinny and powerful. I truly like kissing Adam. I've learned I'll do just about anything to hear him groan. With Adam, I don't worry that I'm not beautiful enough or smart enough; I don't feel him judging.

He leans forward and sits up in bed and I wrap my legs around him and we make out. Light from the highrise across the street pours in his bedroom window, giving just enough light to see the outline of his slender body. I put my hands on his face and push them through his hair. I want my hands everywhere on him.

A couple hours after that and we settle into sleepy silences. We giggle under his goose down comforter while we slowly make our way into our sleeping positions. Adam turns and thrusts his back towards me. I take the opportunity and snuggle up against him, meeting every crevice of his body with my own, and smoosh my face into his shoulder blade. Adam groans.

"Big spoon?" he asks.

"Big... spoon..." I repeat and fall asleep before I could even finish the thought.