11.10.03 :: 11:17 pm
And I just sent him home. Did you know that? I sent him home.
Because if he can admit that he's not looking for anything serious, then I can admit to not feeling that great about just having sex.
And you have no idea how sad, or how confusing. To look at him and touch him after a very, very long month. And to say bye.
Because you know what? Part of me thought he'd come back somehow changed; that I somehow had changed him.
But all that month did was reinforce inside him that he couldn't give to another person just now.
And I'm a little drunk. Because that's how I know how to deal best.
We drank and talked.
And I said I can't take you home.
I didn't expect it to hurt. But you can't realisticially expect to share yourself with a person intimately and not have your idiot heart tangled up in it.
I am glad he told me the truth. And he didn't lead me to believe it would be anything more than physical.
So it's pretty much my fault I let myself migrate into an alternate reality, some seaside resort of a kind.
So I let him go. I can't do this. I'm way more vulnerable than I thought.
Ironically, it's all or nothing for the both of us. We either have a relationship, or nothing at all.
And since he's not ready for a relationship, then I can't give myself to him at all.
In any aspect.
Somewhere in the recesses of my head there's a poem with the line "to know the pain of too much tenderness."
That's really all I can say right now.