October 16th, 16:32 | Fear of ending up 37, alone, childless, and miserable.

So my pendant is fixed. Last night saw me skipping forth, unburying my chain from the bucket of Random Hair Accessories And Other Girly Crap in the bathroom, and today I'm back to having my not-disconcertingly-light pendant on a chain that's long enough, damnit. Right. I like the way it feels so right, that seconds after putting it back on, I couldn't even feel it anymore. Actually, that's a little scary.

So shortly after having a discussion about "credit card" crushes (and I, too, hate the word -- so North American, but at the same time, really perfect for the meaning), I've resigned myself to the fact that, yes, I have a crush.

It's kind of a good feeling, that "probably unrequited" half-sigh. It's not good in the broader sense of my well-being as a person not depending on others though. I really don't seem to know what to do with myself on my own.

Weird that I find the idea of someone to daydream about and pseudo-pine over more comforting than not having anyone at all to occupy my thoughts. Fear of introspection? Fear of ending up 37, alone, childless, and miserable? Don't really know. I've never felt there was a shortage of "date-able" people; if anything, there just wasn't enough time to "try them all out" (for lack of a less crass way of putting it). Roo. I tried, but I couldn't call him Spidey.

...I was going to write something here that's all introspective and deep, but don't really have anything to say. We agreed to Just Be Friends (heh, not that hard when you're in two cities 5 hours apart eh?), but I think about him a lot. That's not saying that much -- I think about almost everyone I know quite a lot. But still. Some pretty, uh, friendlier than friendly thoughts?

Hmm. There's a point. Half-lust, half-topical. All the things I miss about having a boyfriend, about RecentEx, all the movie-watching, and just sitting and cuddling, the doing dishes together, and play-fighting over who got to read the next chapter of Harry Potter out loud, together in bed in the sunshine, the watching Saturday morning cartoons while eating KD out of the pot (yes, we actually did that -- we scheduled time to do that), the stupid games and inside jokes, all the things that really pang, and make me well up, none of those are what I picture in my daydreams.

I'm not sure if it's because I can't imagine doing them with anyone else, or just that my mind's not really projecting them into SideKickSpace or what. Just...not there. Almost like that's sacred ground, that I'm not ready to fantasize into yet (does that even make any sense?) or something.

I feel a long bath with satsuma and over-analysis is called for.

On my left thumb, there is currently a fake-tattoo penguin. (One of many partying on my hand; what can I say? I love fake tattoos.) By bending my thumb I can make him puff out his chest. Liz was right, way back when. Little things do make me happy. (Hmm. Perhaps it's why I consider so many guys date-able. Thought.)

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