I like to walk.

Clearly this is something I’m just a fan of, and moreso when I’ve been drinking.  After speaking with Scott tonight, my memory of last Saturday was jostled.  I remember going for the walk now, but what I remember more distinctly was running — which, by the way, would explain the cut on my foot — and not being sure if I was lost or not.  Actually, more like being lost, and getting scared that I was barefoot and drunk running through the streets of Wantagh without my cell phone.  It could not possibly have been with me lest I had used it.

Needless to say, I gave my host the wrong impression, and explained my behavior as both “drunken,” and “easy,” stammering that I had run off in the cab to join Brian because it was familiar and I knew he wouldn’t call the next day, which was exactly what I’d needed.  A shame, really, because not only do I feel like that makes me a lesser person, but I have also given the impression if you get me drunk enough, you can take me home.  Though, in all honesty, I guess Sam proved that one already.  ::barf::

Heh.  So anyways, it’s now 2:30 in the morning, I’ve almost been up 24 hours (it’s more like 19), and I’ve passed the point where I’m super-sleepy.  I had to read through the sleepy to get to the end of Clash of Kings, which, by the way, if you’ve never read it, is one big cliffhanger.   My goal(s) now are to read The Perfect Storm and New Moon, in that order.  Then I will return to the Martin series.

Side note!  My cookies were a smash!  Perfection! Next up: sugar cookies, so I can make fun shaped Christmas ones in a few months.

In other other news I’ve been thinking about cutting the apron strings — no, not of the Lake Success office, which I will be doing in a few weeks regardless of if I want to or not — but of Chris.  I can’t stop, really.  He may not haunt my dreams nearly as much (see: post on Cory dream), but he haunts my thoughts, and my everyday life.  Gmail, Facebook, Goodreads — I don’t want to know what he’s up to, because I know he’s okay.  And though I’m doing what I want to be doing, and enjoying my life best I can in the process, and freeing myself of negative energy, I still can’t stop missing him.  My brain will jump too, like from thoughts of us eating piles of sunflower seeds, licking the BBQ flavor off of one another’s hands, to the tears on his face when I left for the last time in December.  I have to force myself to think of things I shouldn’t have known, or the night at the bar in Chelsea (mind you, hanging out with Vinny blocks away from his job was painful in itself) when I got to hear, “I don’t want to be the guy whose girlfriend is here.”  I have to bring these thoughts to mind just to keep the sad from coming back.  The anger can dominate the sad, but I’m still not sure how to make it permanent. I s’pose he has to do what James did, or what Rob did — betray or severely hurt me.  James is with Salina, Rob is with Liz (which, I’ll have you know, I’m slowly actually coming to terms and am okay with), Brian is a douchebag, as is Sam, and Cory…well, Cory will be my karma.  Y’know, if I’d had any more enemies I would easily pair him up with-  oh for the love of God, he’s going to end up with Lianne.  Jesus H Christ.  And again, I will end up the cat lady.

For now, things aren’t so bad.  I don’t miss sex nearly as much as I thought I would (in all honesty if I missed it more than I despise the awkward of new people, I’d have fixed that problem by now), and I’m so much freer, happier this way.  There is no one to fight with, no one whose feelings need to be considered, and no one to disappoint or frustrate or upset.  But there’s no one to hug either.  There’s no one write little notes for, or clean up after, or complain about to my girlfriends.

But I respect myself.  So much so that I cannot and will not settle.  I have ridiculously high standards, mostly revolving around intelligence, but I will not lower them.  If I have to be single for the rest of my life, I will.  I swear to this.

You know what? I think tired delirium has taken over.  I’m not even entirely sure what I’m saying anymore.  Hope I don’t regret this post in the morning…

…and yes, I’m sober.

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