Holiday

days like today are so good, but so hard. Steve often asks me what it would be like to stop seeing you. It’s hard for me to imagine when he does ask me these things. The best word I can come up with is lonely. Even though I have all of these other friends around, none of them would make me feel lonely like you would, should we stop seeing/talking to each other. I know that we don’t feel the same about these things. Sometimes I think I am too available, possibly annoying, to you. That I should play hard(er) to get, but that would imply you are trying to get me, which you are not, the pursuit and persuasion is purely my territory.
So yeah, I enjoy these days like today. Every minute of it. Mainly because there are few if any who get me like you do. Who already start laughing at something I am going to do, even before I do it. But I still think that I live in some fantasy world when it comes to seeing clearly what you are. Not that you aren’t wonderful, it’s just I find myself talking about you differently during therapy (if you think you are not a primary topic of discussion every Tuesday at noon, you would be mistaken).
I feel at times like your mad at the world mentality is shaded more toward men than women. I feel like you think men are somewhat useless and disposable. I know you regard me highly, but I remember when you told me during the breakup about the stuff you would say about me behind my back to your friends. I wonder how high your regard would stay if you were around me more often and for longer periods.
Which is what somewhere inside of me I seem to want. It’s a compulsive desire. I sometimes like to think that I can be the special man, the one that could finally make you see that we are not all bad, and indeed in the process prove that I am a different man myself.
When I can see things clearly, when I make the extra effort, I see the road blocks in my fantasy path. There are so many things I want you to be too. That’s not a healthy way of thinking. That I want to spend my life with you, but I want you to be something that you are not presently.
I think I know what you aim to become, but I don’t know for sure. Being mad at the world could be your permanent nature. I hope not, but it is not in my power to do anything about that. I want you to like men more, but again I cannot get involved.
I don’t want you to be lonely, but I believe my thoughts of you being so are just projections. You don’t seem to be lonely. I am not lonely all the time, but I am lonely at times. Like tonight. I don’t want my life to be like this forever. It’s fine and a novelty right now, but I want to find someone to spend it with, to know when Thanksgiving rolls around I will at least be spending it with that person.
I am sorry about the hurt. I am sorry that I still hurt. I feel if I didn’t, maybe you would like me more. Maybe we could see each other more.
Maybe we know too much. Maybe we should’ve gotten married 6 months in and figured it out. Maybe that’s the worst idea in the world.
I will try to keep these things out of our face-to-face conversations as much as possible, in hopes that they will go away, become less important – in hopes that maybe I will be exactly what you’ve been looking for, or at least we both will find what we are looking for and not hurt each other too much along the way – but mostly I hope for the first thing.