Verbal virtual vomit
I’m beginning to think I’m just a masochist.
What good can come out of hometown step-above flirtations that are carried on for months through text messaging and then reunited in the form of a hyperweek of hanging out, wishful smothering but trying to give the other person enough space because, let’s be real–it’s not going anywhere. It can’t.
Not only is he amazing, but I live 2000 miles away and in three days will be without his utter amazingness. Sigh. I sit thinking, is he really this amazing or is it the fact that soon I just won’t have my cuddle buddy that suddenly I think the unthinkable and that is, “well, you never know…we could try it out…blah blah blah.”
The lies we tell ourselves are hilarious. Really.
Okay.
Forget the menial detail of distance for a minute. Take into account the fact that he (and therefore his mother) is Catholic. Being the heathen child of an interfaith couple myself, I’m well aware of the unnecessary drama (”You’re not marrying my son…” etc) brought into one’s life because they neglected to take their parents’ “better” judgment into account. Brilliant.
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