Trouble In Bed

Lor was itching for a fight during her visit this weekend. Our dinner with Rankles didn't help matters, either. First, there was too much wine in her system. Then there was the long conversation about his marriage woes; that was one sure way to dredge up feelings that would eventually spark a fight.

Of course, she always chooses to fight as soon as we get into bed. This leads to even worse feelings. Earlier, while we were having dinner, Rankles asked us how we're doing as a couple. This came up again while Lor lay in bed. She said, "I should have told him the truth."

That is a perfect example of the complications that come from arguing in bed: Not only was she implying that our relationship is in bad shape, but she was talking about spilling her guts to another guy -- all while lying in bed; in other words, she allowed thoughts of someone else to invade the most intimate space that we have. Once again, it was a long, rough night.

So today I sent her a message asking whether it's over between us.

 

Secret Friend = Secret Weapon?

Perhaps this is making things seem better than they are, but it amuses me, nonetheless.

 

Random Thoughts About Two Girls

I think Dee loves me. I try to find out in sneaky ways, but I'm probably obvious about it. When we write to each other, it's as if we say that we love each other. The actual words aren't really necessary.

She likes our arrangement, though. The fact that we live three thousand miles away from each other and will likely never meet is a sort of protection against ruining what we have. I don't know that she's wrong to like it. I probably would ruin it if we had anything more.

I am ruining what I have with Lor on a daily basis. Some days, I don't know if it's entirely unintentional. I need to be a better person to her. She's good to me.

I asked Dee today whether she minds the fact that I keep our friendship secret. She said that she sees herself remaining happy about it for the foreseeable future. I was both disappointed by her answer and glad at the same time.

 

Not A Second Home

Tomorrow begins a three-day weekend. In the morning, I'll head up to Vancouver to see Lor. I'll help her move into a new apartment and shop for things to fill it with. Hopefully, when I'm not helping her to settle in, I'll be able to get away and do something constructive, like writing.

Except for the drive, I never look forward to the Vancouver trip. It's good to see the girlfriend, of course, and there are hikes and other activities which are fun. But Lor seems to think I should treat Vancouver as a second home, to feel as comfortable there as she does when she comes to Seattle. I don't, and it's unlikely that I will. At home, I can do my own thing. I can get things done. It's mine, and under my control. I know my own home and can take liberties there. When I'm in Vancouver, I often feel that my time is wasted, largely because I have no intention of building a life there. I simply have no interest in becoming attached to the place. The chances of my treating it as anything more than a place to meet Lor are very slim.

This is a poor description of my feelings on the matter, but it's all I have at the moment.

 

Itching For Change In The New Year

Here's a summation of the past week's events:

• Broken Relationships
  Yesterday afternoon, I learned that Rankles and Maybug are separating. I was anticipating the news, but it was still unsettling. Especially considering how close I've become with the two of them over the last couple of years.
• A Secret Friendship Grows
  Monday was Dee's birthday. I sent her a gift, but she also sent me one: a compilation of music she'd put together for me. And, last night, after corresponding via email and blog for the past few years, we finally talked on the phone for the first time. If we continue on like this, I don't know how we'll keep our friendship secret.
• Work & What I'm Doing With Myself
  Conflicts at my job once again have me thinking about getting out, leaving to do other things. It's steady and well-paying, but I've lost my appetite for it. I've been at the same place and doing the same thing for so long now that I think I've become complacent with my life. I've forgotten that my time is limited.

 

Here I Am

Wanted to see if collecting my thoughts somewhere did any good, so here I am.  Maybe I'll make note of my activities, too.  Hell, even the weather has a chance of making it in here.

Feyly, by the way, is the adverb form of the word fey.

fey
–adjective

1. British Dialect. doomed; fated to die.
2. Chiefly Scot. appearing to be under a spell; marked by an apprehension of death, calamity, or evil.
3. supernatural; unreal; enchanted: elves, fairies, and other fey creatures.
4. being in unnaturally high spirits, as were formerly thought to precede death.
5. whimsical; strange; otherworldly: a strange child with a mysterious smile and a fey manner.