Confession

Is there a difference between giving someone “space” and playing hard to get?

I have to muddle through this one. It’s where I knee jerk. (And as you all know, knee-jerk = bad.)

I want space. I want to create space. There should be a healthy balance between who I am, who you are… who we are.

Yesterday, I should have just let him do his “guy” thing… done mine. In retrospect, I misspent my day. (I have read the entire contents of the truck, labels included.) Take it as a learning curve… But there are other times when there is no clear distinction.

It’s at these times that the “space” hardens, almost like an angry playful. But if I analyze this further, I discover that it’s not anger, but pride…. I feel foolish for not getting the natural road signs. Yes, I should have… but did not. Dammit. Next time…

And it’s not about him… it’s about me. God that sounds bad. I mean, yes… he is in the equation too, but mostly I want to make sure that I take care of myself. I don’t want there to be burnout. Too much, too soon. I am sure that I am not alone in this struggle. You hear this complaint from men over and over again… (yes, even outside of Cosmo). So in the past, my solution is to play hard to get. Distance myself. Create some sort of wall that he has to chip away at. It’s childish, a waste of energy that could be put to good use on other things.

This weekend should be still. A quiet, un-man-adorned weekend. I am NOT looking forward to hearing the “Whistler Stag Monologues” but on the other hand, I am. It’s better to separate and experience things… bring back new tales and misadventures to the table. We can cover way more ground apart than we can together.

I am really good at beginnings. At the ends. But it’s the middle… the meat of it, that I am atrocious at. I want something real and un-dramatic. Something that fits into my life.

And I want cake. LOTS and lots of cake.

Ok wait. This is not the relationship buffet. Shit.

Are you sure they don’t serve ‘Icing on Penis’?



G.