Up for Interpretation / Venting?

[JonathanJonathan]

Hello eNAers. Your thoughts on my current dilemma would be greatly appreciated.

 

Three years ago, I dated a friend of mine that I met in one of my classes. We went on dates and fooled around for six months, yet never officially gave ourselves the title of boy and girlfriend.

 

At the end of those six months, distance grew between us. Phone calls missed. Texts rare. Contact seemingly fading away. I confronted her about it which ultimately led to ending it right there.

 

As most of us do, I expected a few weeks or months of coping time from her and myself. Moping around reminiscing of those sweet late nights with her, I visit her Myspace page to discover that she found a new squeeze. Pictures of the two of them at the beach. Sweet nothings and unmistakable hints of her new lover crawled about in her About Me section. Things she did with me. I couldn't help but fume.

 

Yet, despite it all, I couldn't dismiss this stunning and intelligent woman. But for the sake of avoiding "drama", I hid such feelings.

 

She stayed with that boy for a year before ending the relationship. Well, at least the "official" part of it. They hang out every now and then, and seem a bit affectionate, but it is up for interpretation.

 

As for me, I resorted to fooling around with a friend of mine. To kill time. The feelings I have for my lover of years ago resurface every now and then and completely envelop my thoughts.

 

Well, there's the exposition.

 

Now for the part up for interpretation.

 

Occasionally, maybe once or twice a month, this friend, or old-flame, calls me late at night to have donuts. Ironically, we always meet at the donut shop where we had our first date. Conversation ensues, tackling important issues about what race we think we'll end up marrying and favorite Coldplay tracks. And that's that. No suave lead-ins attempted. Friendly encounters.

 

On other occasions, I happen to be at the same party as she. At one particular incident, the two of us were alone together in the backyard. Claiming inebriation, she interlocks her legs with mines and gets very touchy. Drunk girls are not my thing. She leaves only to text me a few minutes later asking me meet with her. Yes, I said no. Drunk girls are not my thing.

 

Sober ones are. I get a sense of honor. It should have been fine at this other party. Sober and clear-headed, she left her friends and joined me, sitting on the dance floor. A bit floored and exhausted, I sat and failed to say much, nothing sensical at least. Despite the excellent music, she remained sitting next to me. She slid her legs on top of mine, then eventually sat face to face with me, legs over mine. Our eyes met. This is the part in the movies where casanova clears that rebellious strand of hers from before her eyes and goes in for the fireworks. The erupting volcano. But I didn't. Drunk me isn't my thing?

 

That night ended as all my nights do: regretfully. Yet, all is not lost. These odd incidents must count for something. 2 AM soirees? Generous attention?

 

Or perhaps I'm just looking far too into such things.

[a_lifters_life]

 

On other occasions, I happen to be at the same party as she. At one particular incident, the two of us were alone together in the backyard. Claiming inebriation, she interlocks her legs with mines and gets very touchy. Drunk girls are not my thing. She leaves only to text me a few minutes later asking me meet with her. Yes, I said no. Drunk girls are not my thing.

 

 

Kudos to you man ! I'd say just try to move on if you can