This emotional stuff is taking a toll on me again, in a different way. Instead of crying all the time and feeling angry I've come to full acceptance. But that doesn't mean I've started living again.
I feel stuck between an old way of life, unable just yet to move in a true direction to a new way of life. Limbo, really. I feel like I'm in limbo and stuck there right now.
I've made one new friend, my new gay boyfriend, but that is not enough. I can't rely on him for constant entertainment, nor should I. We are still getting to know one another, we have different interests, but the same sense of humor. We agree it's been fun becoming friends. And that's really what it is, becoming friends. Not that instant soul-crushing bonding experience I've had with other people in my life. Where you stay up all night telling secrets until you feel like you'll never-ever not be friends with this person, the deal is done.
This is the adult approach. Do stuff, enjoy stuff, laugh, and then call it a night until the next time you hang out. Little by little the personality appears. The quirks and habits. The history. We haven't got into anything too serious yet but I think we'll get there someday. He's my practice for dating someday, when I may want to meet someone and take it slow. I've never taken it slow before, it was always urgent, fast and furious. Even with Scumbag or Blondie there was a spilling of guts really quickly that made the friendship sealed really fast. An intensity that is missing in this friendship, and I'm very OK with that. I don't need more intense friendships. I need calm.
Having dinner with Jeckyll tonight. Told him I wasn't doing very well and he offered a dinner date this week, threw out some days and tonight worked for me. I'm still never sure if hanging out with him is better or worse for me. It feels different every time.
Had a lovely dinner with Jeckyll. It was short and sweet and the food was good. I think small doses of catching up are good for us. It's spending too much time with him, too many days in a row, that throws me off kilter.
We had to talk about my mom. We talked about Scumbag and his recent problems that are sufficiently huge that it's not something that anyone can laugh away. Too many different stories I refuse to believe any one of them. Each one is possibly a lie. I can't care that much anymore. If he manages to come back "home" I'll ask him for the truth, I'm sure he'll give me my own special version of the truth, what he wants me to hear. I understand the secrets, he's all secrets.
We talked about a few other things but whatever. It was nice to get out of the house and now I'm going to watch TV and burn incense because the house smells musty. Haven't been able to open a window in months. Soon, Spring soon.