December 2nd, 01:10 | snow and daydreaming

Mmm... snow. Feeling kind of lost and sappy -- one of my frosh made me re-watch You've Got Mail because I was telling him it was a shitty remake of Sleepless In Seattle and I'm ashamed to admit that really, it totally has warm-fuzzy, feel-good, actual good line-quotage merits of its own. I really don't like the way he's all devious though. I can't get over that. But anyway. I just watched a chickflick, after coming back from a weekend with the Boy, and there's fresh snow outside, so I'm feeling pretty whimsical and lonely.

Tried calling MetallicBoy (as I'm occasionally wont to do when a Must Run And Enjoy The World mood hits me, because he's physically the closest person -- so far he's turned me down all but once, when he later bailed before we actually got to the Run And Enjoy part) but he wasn't home. I know RecentEx isn't there, likely busy with the new girl, and most of my froshlings are sleepy. Wasn't really in the mood to call on NeighbourBoy or his housemate, so I went for a tramp in the snow, sorely, sorely missing the Boy to look at the stars (such a clear night tonight!) and listen to the lake all calm and lapping at the snow-shrouded rocks.

Now that I've had time to get used to the idea (at least, that's what I think it is) I'm much calmer and more understanding about RecentEx and his new girl. Seriously. I can think calmly about them hanging out, and having Deep Thoughts together, and those cozy, comfy conversations that make relationships worthwhile. And I feel good about him being happy. I just... really miss the friend I had in Kingston. Because, honestly, he really was My One Best Friend In Kingston. Anytime I felt full to bursting with awe and wonder and the desire to delight at the world, he'd be with me, skipping through the snow, rolling his eyes when I stopped to make snow angels. He was the one who would run with me to the library to hear the rain tinging off the metal thingies that run up the sides. I mean, really, he was a friend I depended on, perhaps more than I'd realized.

Not perhaps. I did. And maybe I did realize it subconsciously, hence my drive this year to find someone else to connect with. Which, it appears, has failed dismally. But it's alright. I've survived enough of my life locked up in fantasy. Another four or five months should be no problem. It just stings a little when I know there's someone here who could be running to meet the wind with me.

Holding on till I've got the Boy. I was thinking about that too. About how well he reads me and how we're so comfortable with each other but... I wonder how we'd interact Together, you know? I mean, it sounds cocky as all Hell, but I'm totally an Am�lie-type person. (Tangent: the Boy and I watched that the night we got together, and we re-watched it this weekend. I love that movie.) That scene when she's crushed because she thinks her boy is going after the other waitress and gets home and her landlady asks her if she believes in miracles and she answers "Not today,"? Yeah, me. I've actually said that.

What this means is that I'm constantly doing small stupid things that, seriously, no one understands. It drives RecentEx up the wall because he knows at some point it'll pile up and hurt me that even though I pour all my energy into these things, almost no one notices/cares enough/whatever to reciprocate. And he hates it because I get all sad and mopey. I haven't really been able to explain it to the Boy yet, because really, it's something you have to see to understand, I think. But it's something I do. I don't know when I started, but it's pretty ingrained in me now, and it's definitely something he'll have to deal with when we're together (!!!) at last one day.

What I'm saying is that RecentEx knows what to do on those days. He's the only one in Kingston who does. (I know this from experience in trying to seek solace amongst my other Kingston friends. Sad, but true.) And it's not hard, but I mean, he's had nearly two years worth of practice to get it right. I'm worried that the Boy isn't going to want to do that. To pick me up from the pile of pieces which is, essentially, all my fault anyway. To let me rant and sob and run out of steam, then make me smile at something, then just hug me until everything is okay. I don't know if he'll know or want to do small stupid little things when we're together, without which I'll be sad and a little bit resentful. I don't know if he'll understand about the small stuff everywhere vs periodic big stuff thing. About how I'd rather get nothing for Christmas or my birthday or whatever, and just have small notes and stupid meaningless things all through the year than no real "extra" things that say he's thinking about me, and some beautifully thought-out gift for an Occasion. (I guess the ideal relationship involves both, but really? I kind of hate buying gifts for occasions -- it cheapens the gift in a way, you know?)

I dream about our house -- about having tile backsplashes in the kitchen and a section of wall (or maybe the cupboards? no) painted with that chalkboard stuff for lists and noties for us. About having those glass markers in the bathroom so we can write little notes on the mirror and maybe on the shower stall, if we have one. I dream about having a sunshiney bedroom with a window full of plants and cats and a sunny, quiet room to cram full of books and cushions. About stowing the tv in the basement somewhere with minifridges that I can put magnetic poetry sets on (or maybe one of those enormous freezers -- think how much poetry I could get on that!) and board games for people to play, while the movies and console games are upstairs next to the couch. I know, I know. It makes no sense. It's a daydream.

I worry that he won't understand and that maybe our relationship is doomed because we don't often get a chance to interact In Person. I worry I worry. I should really sleep. I guess I'll find out soon enough... right? I'm afraid of waiting too long to find out that we can't, or alternately of missing out on something that's almost perfect. Maybe I just miss him.

I was going to write something about my incorrigeable propensity for explaining gifts in my letter/card attached, if the gift really is important to me. I really must stop. It makes me sound as neurotic as I sometimes am, and really, that needs no advertising. But I'm a little tired for that now, so bed for me.

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