denial
This is going to be a rather difficult post for me to write; I'm almost squirming in my seat. Which is surprising - considering I usually have something to say about everything (except politics and football) - indeed, if you were to accuse me of being an opinionated little brat, I would hardly argue with you, although I'd probably have an opinion about that too.Saturday seems like ages ago, when really only three days have passed since then. I rarely find myself at a loss for words, but due to circumstance, that was exactly how I felt on Saturday night when it was decided (not by me) that WTD and I ought to have a little chit chat 'to see where this is going'. If that wasn't unexpected enough (yes, ok, denial), it was the comment that followed - something to the effect of 'we've been seeing rather a lot of each other recently, and I do enjoy your company'.
Fuck, I thought. What on earth was that supposed to mean? Can a man get any more cryptic? I did not know what to say. In fact, I started pacing the length of my flat, and I never pace. I wrote four draft text messages and sent none of them. Like a bumbling idiot, I finally did reply (just to be courteous), at which point WTD said (like any intelligent human being would) that these things ought to be discussed in person and that he would be coming over in five minutes. The first thing that went through my mind at that point: God, I could really do with some alcohol right now. When he rang up, I didn't buzz him in. I waited two minutes, swallowed the lump in my throat, and tried not to look him in the eye when I finally did open the door.
Fast forward: things were discussed. The air was cleared. Matters were sorted. (Well, sort of.) I admittedly liked him more after we had that conversation because it was as if our friendship/relationship (I clearly cannot seem to differentiate between the two) had been taken to another level - we decided to be sensible/rational about things and not start anything due to intervening factors - it was almost like an inside joke; our little secret. Nothing really changed in the following days; besides, the way things were going, there was not much that differentiated us as friends, from us as being a couple. What does it mean to be 'going out', anyways? I don't want to be quick about categorising a relationship. That might spell disaster. I don't know.
The problem is: I like him, and he likes me. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that this tends to make things a wee bit more difficult. Actually, I was just re-reading the title of this point. Funny how it looks extremely similar to WTD's real name. How very appropriate. (Or perhaps I'm becoming dyslexic.)
L'Esthete @ 13:22
