The Phoenix

What an amazing week of revelations. In all destruction there is always room for creation. I just haven't figured out what got created yet.

In review, Mr. Stonecold found my blog last week. He spent three hours reading every posting I had ever done. Then he woke up the next morning and did it again. We went out that night, I got hammered and became Drunky McIloveyouman. The next day he nicely reminded me how many times I popped the "L" word, but didn't freak. Then, he posted. HE POSTED. Then we had a very long, uncomfortable conversation about it. Then Ms. Twinkie posted. Then she blogged about it on her own blog. Then he got pissed.

I still haven't figured out what I think about it all. I'm angry. I'm angry that he read my blog. I'm angry that I wasn't trusted enough with my own emotional affairs to deal with them by myself. I'm angry that he waited this long to say some of the things he has said. I'm angry that he's mad at Ms. Twinkie because she was just trying to help. I'm angry that once again my blog has managed to be a source of drama in my life.

I'm fluttery. I'm fluttery because of the way he looked at me when he said he would always be there no matter what. I'm fluttery because he said I was pretty and smart ans wild in the sack. I'm fluttery because he asked what he could do to make me feel special. I'm fluttery because one of the reasons he's mad at Ms. Twinkie is because he thinks she is the reason behind all of the knock-down-drag-outs we've had. I'm fluttery because he's finally admitted that there is more to our relationship than just sex.

At one point he said he could never give me what I deserve. That when the whole Lord Voldemort thing happened I was glowing and happy and alive. That he didn't have it in him to do that to me, and that it made him sad. What he doesn't understand is that he does do that to me. I just can't show him. I can't glow around him, I can't beam when he says things. I have to hide my feelings in the same way he hides his.

I understand where I stand in his life. I am one of his best friends. He cares about me. But, he loved his ex. (Let's name her, shall we? She shall now be Lil Ms. I Picked My Husband Instead of You. No, how about Lil Ms. I'm Just a 22 Year old Floozy Who doesn't Know What She Wants. No, how about...Bitch from Hell? No, I don't like that either. She'll just be the ex.)

We've had a lot of conversation time spent on the ex. In fact, she called in the middle of one of the conversations. He looked me in the eye and said he would not be going back to her again. He gave her three chances and that was it. He erased her number from his phone. He hasn't returned any of her phone calls. He may actually be done. I don't know.

I do know that she has a hold on him that I will never have. I'm ok with that. In the last week I've come to a realization. I don't know if I want him to love me. I like my independence, and I think he would encroach on that if he loved me. I like being able to go a couple of days without talking to him. I like being able to sleep in my own bed. I like going out with my friends without him freaking that I'm going home with another man. I like being able to make out with random guys at the bar when I have three too many. I like being able to know that I am still the master of my own ship. But it's nice to know I've got a sailing buddy.

Since the shake down he's been a lot more affectionate. So have I. We can be now. I can snuggle up to him and kiss him on the neck and he doesn't freak. He can just hold me without fear that I'm going to take it the wrong way. He looks me in the eyes when he kisses me and that look makes my knees melt. I adore him. I really do. And I adore the status of our relationship. He's my emotionally unavailable man friend, and I'm his bitter, jaded woman friend. We get along quite nicely with those labels.