Sunday, January 16, 2005
      ( 7:02 PM ) Rebecca  
OK, now that everything is in pieces, the veil is lifting.

What if I revealed to you I broke up with Sexy Boy because he kept his heart locked up with a golden key? He loved me enough, I believe that now. He just didn't, in the immortal words of Madonna,"express himself." And I am nothing if not expressive. Nothing if not in need of expression and from those I love.

The first couple weeks we were together, I couldn't believe my luck. I had wanted this boy for *so* long. And all of a sudden, after I'd long since stopped expecting it, he was mine. Or seemed to be. We went on a road trip together, through the mesas of Arizona, the rainy foothills of Utah, and the snow-dusted mountains of New Mexico. And every single night, I went to sleep in a blissful trance. He's mine.

I felt lucky. And I was. Because it's not every day you find someone as handsome, as kind, as spontanteous, and as sexy, of course, as Sexy Boy. It's not every day you can fall in love with one of your best friends.

But then, when our idyllic road trip ended and real life intruded, I found myself getting impatient at his seeming lack of passion for me. He didn't seem that into me. He didn't hold my hand or give me spontaneous hugs or tell me I was beautiful. And so, because he kept himself at a distance, I had to do that too, curbing my natural instincts for affection.

If I wanted to hug him (which I always wanted to do), I checked myself. He won't like it. If I wanted to hold his hand (which I always wanted to do) I checked myself. He won't hold it back. If I wanted to kiss him in a public place (which I always wanted to do), I checked myself. He'll be embarrassed. The only place he seemed truly into me was the bedroom.

So I got impatient. I got frustrated. I told him how I felt but gave him very little time to react before I cut and run. It was not that simple, of course. Because there was Library Boy, swearing he'd learned from his mistakes, then getting down on bended knee and promising me what SB couldn't seem to give me. Affection. Attention.Adoration.

But what I should have learned last time is that his promises were lies, and that red roses don't mean a thing, and that just because someone stares into your eyes and tells you your beautiful, it doesn't mean a f*cking thing. Oh, man how I should have let sleeping dogs lie.

But no. I was stupid. I got greedy and I got impatient. I trusted someone I shouldn't have trusted and I hurt someone I didn't want to hurt. Who had never done a thing wrong except be afraid to open himself up, for fear that I would do exactly what I did.

Which was to ruin everything.
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This blog was the inspiration for my novel. It helped me get through a horrible breakup and kept me entertained for years. But all good things must come to an end. I will recycle oldies but goodies from the archives here, but will blog about about writing here, and about all kinds of other stuff here.

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