:: Searching for Puck... ::

The mostly-daily saga of a 22 year old girl in search of eldorado, good books, a pen, a spare set of keys, the secret of immortality, or shiny objects, depending on when you ask her.
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:: Sunday, March 23, 2003 ::

Finally home, thank goodness.

Trish and crew kidnapped me last night, and after several aborted plans and the usual trishian fuck-ups, we went from trying to go see Dreamcatcher (the movie in the beginning of the evening to abandoning that and playing cosmic bowling til 2 am. Fun fun. Note the sarcasm.

I have a date tonight that I don't want to go on, and I'm wondering why I even agreed in the first place. Quietly, I think it's still because I'm incensed at this whole Henry ordeal...it's been a real hit to my pride. Just once, I'd like to meet a guy and not lose him to something else as soon as I get comfortable. It's getting really old and my emotions are sick and tired of being thrown into a constant state of flux. It's weird, I date viciously, the way people drink when they're upset, or smoke when they're anxious. I'm not doing it for spite, or malice, I'm just doing it as a nervous habit. I just date, really....go out to dinner or a movie, pay my half if they'll let me, and go home. I don't do anything untoward. But who knows. I'm not good at self-psychology.

Doesn't mean I don't want to do anything untoward....I just want a steady to team up with. I don't want to do the whole random-sex thing that seems to be all the rage. I've seen how bad it fucks with my friend's heads. It kind of sucks being single. Intimacy is something that seems endless when you're with someone (well, not always....ahem.) and now that I'm single, I realize I probably took a great deal of it for granted, so shame on me.

Even now, I'm in IMs with a guy I chatted with a few times, and he keeps telling me how much he wants to tumble with me. I think about the concept, and it leaves a great deal lacking. Sex as a concept used to be this amazing thing to me, and I was anxious to learn about it. Now, even when it's offered on a silver platter, not only do I not want it, I don't want to talk about it, either. I don't want people touching me, talking to me, or looking at me sometimes...and those sometimes are becoming more and more often. I want to close myself off to the world and away from these parasitic members of the opposing gender that make no move to disguise that they could give a shit who my favorite author is.

I think I've lost the most important faith of all. I don't think I believe in love anymore.

~Fox
Penny for your thoughts?


:: Fox 3/23/2003 04:16:00 PM [Say what?] ::
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