as I walk

the journey to becoming me

regret

It might be an understatement to say that I’ve been tired a lot lately.  My body hasn’t fully adjusted to the graveyard shift yet (by the way, I think it would be way more fun to work overnight in a cemetery than as a car rental agent).  I’ve found that I’m spending the majority of my waking moment in a haze.  That’s about as good as it gets for me.  Haze.  Mostly, though, I find myself nodding off.  If I’m not at work, it becomes full on sleep.  For instance today (well, yesterday I guess) was Verity’s grad/birthday party.  I squeezed a few limes before hand and then sat down to go over some email… fell asleep… woke up to chat with a friend that was over… saw the crowd was kind of big… figured I’d give it another hour before going down there (sometimes I have to psych myself up for crowds and seeing as I had just woken up, I was not yet psyched).  And somehow I fell asleep again because here it is at 4am.  So, I missed the party.  I feel like a bad friend and room-mate.  I blame my place of employment (and a bit on my new introversion).
Where was I going with this?  Oh right, the haze.  So, not only am I in a haze, but my eyes keep shutting (like the passive nature there?  Not, I keep shutting my eyes, but they keep shutting).  The combination of closed eyes and a haze equals day dreaming (or ya know, actual sleep).  When I’m at work (or another situation where I shouldn’t be sleeping – like driving) I’ll start daydreaming.  Unfortunately, it’s becoming really depressing.  I keep drifting off to a particular night… April 1st.  The scenario plays out differently in my head… but it’ always this same situation.  I can’t seem to shake it.  I’ve tried to let it play out the way it happened, I’ve tried to let it play out with several different outcomes, and I’ve tried to shut it down before it gets a chance… yet it still keeps coming back.
Now, it’s been a month since I stopped seeing M and we had only been seeing each other for a few months to begin with, so I really should be over this – and for the most part, I am… except when I’m in a hazy day dream or if I get wicked introspective…  That particular Sunday was a day of change – both with work and umm… not work.  I’m just gonna lay it all out for you – because I don’t want you to think you’re reading between the lines and make false assumptions of what I’m saying.
The two words that would best describe that evening are desire and regret.  That feels like a really loaded sentence, but it’s true.  We had decided that we were going to spend the entire day together, go out to eat, do some local downtown shopping, and then go back to where she was house sitting and make dinner and watch movies.  Doesn’t it just sound marvelous?  It almost was.  Those things definitely happened, but so did a conversation.  I’m starting to have second thoughts on sharing all of this…   So she said that we couldn’t touch anymore.  Not even hold hands.  Nothing.  She said it was too challenging knowing that I won’t have sex so the entire physical side of the relationship was going to get shut down.   As a matter of fact (this was around 1pm) she said that it would be best if we ended our date early.  Normally, I’m a prude.  I’ll admit it.  I am a prude.  Just for clarification here, our physical side consisted pretty much entirely of cuddling on a couch watching movies.  Maybe it’s that hint of a rebellious streak in me though, that got all irritated when I was told I couldn’t anymore.  So, at a loss for words, I agreed, dropped her off, and left.  I stewed.  Seriously… I should have probably been thankful that this would spare me unnecessary grief and heartache… but nope… I got angry.  I didn’t go home though, I stayed somewhat local… and eventually told her that I’d agree to her request (knowing full well I had no such intentions – did I mention that I’m a scum bag?).  So she said I could come over.
I went back and we sat down and started watching a movie.  I kept my hands in my pockets to show how compliant I was… long story short… hands did not stay in pockets.   We did not have sex.  I figure I should probably point that out.  Obviously, that’s where desire comes into play… same with regret.  I wanted to be with her.  Honestly, if I thought she would actually commit to me in any kind of way… even call me a girlfriend… I would have had sex with her.  I may be a prude, but I’m also an honest human.  So the regret… part of me regrets going  back that night… because things changed for us then.  We stopped being all about connection and conversation, and ended up more about the physical side.  The other part of me regrets… not sleeping with her.  I know it goes against so much of what I believe and say… but… it’s true.  Part of me thinks that if I had just slept with her, knowing that she wasn’t interested in a real relationship, the rest of everything would be easier – I wouldn’t be so freaked out the next chick I date, I’d know what I’m doing, I’d…  Ya know, when I type it out, there really aren’t any good reasons for me to sleep with someone where there’s no future.  Maybe writing all this and processing it and owning it is what it takes to get the replays to stop.
To sum up, I’m a prude who regrets going as far as I did, regrets not having sex, and can’t stay awake.  I am quite the catch.

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