The Boy Looked At Johnny
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2002-06-19 20:19:37 (UTC)

Fix me

Well...I've been mulling over the other night a lot lately.
Actually, that's a little misleading: I've been giving much
more thought to my reaction to the other night than to the
actual events, which were pretty lackluster in and of
themselves. I mean, snog snog, squish squish, see you
later. Not much to it, folks

In my head, I keep coming back to my journal entry for the
day after. Festering with an amazing amount of confusion
and guilt and self-loathing and just more general freaked-
out-edness than I honestly thought I was capable of these
days. It's just sort of floating there like a big turd,
distracting attention from anything else. It sounds like it
was written by a fourteen year old, really.

Sigh. Obviously, this comes down to me having some very
serious hangups. I mean, I can't help but keep thinking
that I am COMPLETELY incapable of a healthy, prolonged
romantic relationship. Like it's not even a matter of mastering
skills that I should've mastered a decade ago, it's a matter of just
not having the right parts, like a car without a starter or
something. I throw a complete hissy fit whenever romance is in the
air, and there is stuff that goes on with me that I wouldn't even
dream of airing in a public forum such as this one, regardless of the
fact the number of people who read this thing numbers in the low
double-digits. When I wrote earlier that I was going to
avoid the whole issue of girls altogether, I had a good
point. Indeed, since then, I haven't been running after
them to the extent that I had been. I think it's improved
my quality of life, or at least taken some of the pressure
off. But I can't avoid the issue forever...I don't think I
can, anyway. Because ignore girls all you want, pal...I
know what kind of person I am, I know how hysterially
social I can be, and I can't imagine keeping the same level
of social activity up and NOT running into an exception at
least a few times.

Confused, confused. And I hate feeling confused. Confusion
is so childish. So blase. Ha ha.

So, as always, I'll just make myself feel better by laying
out an agenda and pretending I can run my life like a flow chart.
Here it is: Nicole is to be contacted as minimally and politely as
possible. Just enough so that she doesn't think I hate her (which I
don't, you know), and just enough to start into motion a decreased
level of contact, like I was trying to do before I started sticking
my body parts where they didn't belong. On the positive side, I'll
keep ahead with the Jessy thing. She called last night while I was
out, and so I'll call her tonight and invite her to the Bangs show on
Sunday (which will be hella fun, incidentally). So I hope then
to have fun, and then I'll just see what happens. My gut,
so far, has come to no consensus about that. She IS really cute.

Fuckups seems inevitable, but they can probably be kept to
a minimum.