Monday, February 7, 2011

Random Things.

My hours have picked back up, which is a great thing. I'm going to need the money and once things are a little more concrete I'll go into detail. If we've spoken then you may already know.

There is a new manager at my job, which means I need to start looking for a new place to work. Him and I are not vibing well and I don't plan on trying to get along with him. The crazy thing is that I've only met him once.

I'm still screwing the Nice New Guy, which means I'm still talking to him. Its not in me to be a complete bitch to him. He doesn't deserve it, plus I like him. Things are easy with him.

School...Not much to say here. I'm in another math class and so far I'm doing waaaaay better than I did last block, but I'm sure this last week will fuck that up. I'll get it together though, I promise.

Hair- Ive been thinking seriously about colouring my hair red in a few months. Its about time for me to have a new edgy look. I hate blending in.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Out of My System

I saw The Bruiser when I was home a few weeks ago. And to be honest, I was really scared to see him. He’s always been my Exception, regardless of who I was dating. It didn’t matter how much I liked the person I was with, I could never say no when the opportunity to spend a night with The Bruiser presented itself. If he had told me that he wanted to be with me, I would have broken up with whoever I was dating immediately to be with him. And so, yeah, I was worried about how I would feel when I saw him after all these months apart. This was heightened by the fact that he’d kept in touch with me after I moved, and I would hear from him once every few weeks telling me that he missed me or that he was thinking about me.

At The Bar, he came over and said hi and was completely and totally normal. He was my friend. Which was all I’d ever asked of him, really. It was nice. I felt really good about it. And after closing, a group of us went back to his place. Him and I ended up alone in a room and the opportunity to hook up presented itself. And for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t want it. It wasn’t even a difficult decision, and I didn’t have to wrestle with myself to “do the right thing.” I just… didn’t. I wanted Jesus. Yeah, there will always be feelings between The Bruiser and me. We have a connection that will never go away. But now I can say that it is not worth jeopardizing the most fantastic relationship I’ve ever been in for that fleeting connection with someone that doesn’t truly want to be with me.

I’m happy with the person I’m with, and it feels really good to be able to say that. And I can now say that The Bruiser was my Exception, and not that he is my Exception.

Someone You Don’t Talk To As Much As You’d Like

I sucked for a while and let my 30 Days of Letters fall by the wayside. I’m going to try and start writing them again.

Dear Dad,

I wish we talked more, and not just in the literal sense. Because while it’s true that we don’t talk very often, and when I live away from home we go months without even a phone call to say hi, when we do talk I feel like we’re still not really talking. It’s superficial conversation about nothing at all. Your day at work, the new dress I got, what you’ve done in the garden. And even then, I wonder if you really hear me. I wonder if you know who I am. In fact, I wonder if I know who you are. I know things about you because I’ve observed them or because mom has told me, but very few things about you are things I know because you’ve told me.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of what having an relationship with you that had some sort of bonding and substance to it would be like. You took me out for drinks when I turned 21 and I don’t know if I can remember a time, before or since, when we did anything that was just the two of us. And you did let me in that night; you confirmed what mom had already told me she’d suspected. You had a mistress. And even if you didn’t tell me in as many words, the anonymous, female “friend” that I would “like so much” that kept finding her way into our conversation said what there was no need for you to say at that moment.

And maybe, on top of all the differences between the two of us, I was afraid to really talk to you after that. We all know that you have no filter, and maybe I feared that you’d tell me something that I’d wish I’d never known so I found it easier to go back to what we’d always done. Back to beating around the bush, back to surface conversation about superficial things. But the truth is, I want you to know who I truly am. And I want to know who you truly are, too.

I also want you to know that you’re probably completely unaware of the fact that the random calls you make to me? The ones that come about once every 2 or 3 months? The ones where you just say, “Hi, Moo*!” and then run off to go do something else? Those calls make my entire day.

I love you. Let’s talk more.

*That’s my dad’s childhood nickname for me. I don’t think he’s called me Britni in 15 or more years. It’s always Moo, Moo Mah, or Moomasita (pronounced moo-mah-see-tah).