2003-10-26 @ 9:39 p.m. | Can't think of a thing...

Song in my head: Shout by Tears for Fears (thanks to I Love the 80's)

Mood: a touch sick but mellow

Current book: still Why People Believe Weird Things


Have I mentioned how much I love love love Jill ? Just absolutely love the hell out of her? We haven't seen each other in far too long, and we haven't had the chance to catch up in a while either, but today we finally had one of our mega-marathon gab sessions and she is just wonderfulness personified. She and I have this uncanny knack for going through similar stuff at the same time, and she always knows exactly how I'm feeling about it. I always feel so understood when we're chatting. Not to mention I have a hell of a time.

(Goddamn, I have got this really dry painful barking cough, goddamnit. I'm taking those evil as all hell zinc lozenges, and drinking fluids, and using my albuterol inhaler to battle the slight wheeze that's developing and I've been resting all day and goddamn! I hate getting sick - it feels like a personal failure, if I were only [fill in the blank] enough, I wouldn't be compromised. Of course, the sick people at work who never take sick days don't help either.)

So, back to my conversation with Jill. We're both going through this ridiculous anxiety of this really nice guy really likes me, so there must something wrong with him. Isn't this crazy? How long have I been lamenting that I want to meet someone kind and decent and gentle and nice to me? And I finally meet someone who is starting to treat me this way, and I panic.

I have to remember that that just might be natural, after what I went through. Maybe it would be more dysfunctional if I jumped in 100%, eyes closed and totally trusting. Baby steps, baby steps, I've gotta keep telling myself that. And that that's okay, and just fine.

And Ben seems to be understanding that as well. (As much fun as I'm having with him, there is a part of me that hovers over the proceedings, completely distant and guarded and waiting to swoop in protectively if need be.) Last night we were in my room with the lights low and no distractions, no TV, no music, just the two of us, and damn, that sort of naked intimacy is intimidating. (And how different it is than fantasy, to have a real life flesh and blood human being with me; much more rewarding, but so much more unpredictable.) As we kissed I would pull away, come back, pull away - it is sort of scary that this is not a one-night stand, that there is a growing affection - and he would so gently reassure me that that was okay (I have such a complex, still - once I get sexual with someone I feel like I need to perform, that I'm letting him down by not getting him off immediately - ugh). He would kiss me and tell me, "you're worth the wait."

I am not used to being looked at the way he looks at me. When we went to bed I changed into a burgundy crushed velvet nightie and when he turned around and saw me he wrapped his arms around me and whispered "you look so good" and his desire stupifies me. This morning as he was leaving he broke off our kiss and said, "I just want to look at you"as I stood there in an oversized cotton bathrobe and morning-after hair. Me. Me. It doesn't feel real.

(And oh. How he says my name. And he calls me darling and it doesn't sound the least bit ridiculous.)

But I am keeping enough of a distance. I need to. If this is right, it'll continue to be right. I don't need to rush it. I want to make sure that we aren't just connecting because it's convenient. I don't want to rush into anything too fast just because, well, just because. I am afraid of how I've always been - I've always thrown myself head over heels and completely submerged myself into someone else's life (what do you think I did with the Louse?) I like to think I'll never do it again, but I feel the need for eternal vigilence just to make sure.

And you'd never know it to listen to me, but damn, I'm having a lot of fun in the midst of all my anxiety. (The anxiety is easier to write about, and I want to stay honest on this page.) The more we relax with each other, the more we laugh. Last night I was telling him a little more about the Louse - I want him so much to understand what's going on with me - and he alluded to going through some tough stuff himself, and I grabbed him and said "just tell me you're not on the lam!" and we dissolved into laughter. It is feeling more natural.

So. I'm having fun. He's sweet and attentive and kind. I'm anxious. It's all okay. I'm still Aimee, I'm still me, I am whole. No matter what happens, I can deal with it. I paid a lot of dues to get to this point, so I'm gonna enjoy the payoff.

And go to bed in hopes of sleeping off this cold!

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