I stood there in the market, smack dab in the middle of a bustling, gentrified neighborhood and realized I am a fucking yuppie. There I was, clutching a bag of organic, baked tortilla chips and three versions of jarred salsa that cost me nearly $30 (well, I did buy a six pack of beer). Firstly, I was concerned that it seemed OK to me to spend that much money on snacks and beer (though technically, I was going to eat the chips & salsa for dinner). Secondly, it was alarming that such a seemingly innocuous purchase could cost that exorbitant an amount.
I know I've been remiss lately in updates; this is because I am focusing on getting my life back together. The new job is great, though my boss sniffed out my hangover yesterday when he saw me eating french fries for breakfast. Oops. He's good. Then there's the academic stuff: I reapplied for graduate school earlier this year and should finish my MA this fall, barring another intellectual nervous breakdown.
And lastly, I started sort of seeing someone.
But no, that's not entirely true. We were seeing each other until he divulged that he is moving to the other side of the country in a few months. I shut down emotionally, unable to invest myself in a losing proposition. What's the point? Great sex? Big fucking deal. I can get that anywhere. (Also, I am not so secretly blaming him for my recent UTI, though I am prone to them.) He claims to understand me - and he seemingly does - but he lords it over me to the point where I resent him as a result. He appraises me as if I were also an investment, which irks me because I know right now I'm damaged, but a man with no life ambition has no right to tell me what's wrong with me.
He knows I have a "sex blog" but I won't share with him the URL, which he says shows that I am hiding myself from him. This is ironic since he is the first person I've been emotionally vulnerable for in years, and it frustrates me that he doesn't understand I'm trying.
Yet what's it matter? I'm not going to fall in love with him.
Ultimately, this blog is about love - finding it, nurturing it, keeping it, albeit under the guise of some filthy, deviant sexual predilections. Why can't they coexist? It is my fervent belief that they can and they will, someday, for me.
Maybe just not now.
