January 20th, 09:12 | Mine. He's all mine.
Well, I'd started off being good.
Ottawa was amazing. I had so much fun; I can't believe we crammed so much into two days. Apart from the big-ass snowstorm on the way back (note to all: NeighbourBoy has mad Shaolin Driving-fu) the weekend really was perfect.
We got there on time Friday night, gadded about. I convinced PseudoBrother's housemate to wear my sproingy blue things -- and he did. His other housemate came home, and we all watched Bridget Jones. That's right, folks. I breeze into town for a weekend and suddenly a houseful of manly punk-listening-to, beer-swilling engineers are flopped in easy chairs watching sappy pseudo-Brit chick flicks. I am all-powerful.
So that was good. Kinda agree with Housemate #2 that Hugh Grant does kinda tinge the whole movie with an ominous "Oh he's in it" kind of mood. But. They seemed to think it was funny. Housemate #1 scampered off to bed, as did Neighbour who was beat from the driving. #2 went out (oh, the party people), so PseudoBrother and I watched Amélie by ourselves.
This boy must trust my taste in movies. After hearing me rant about it, he bought the dvd, which was still in the plastic up until Friday night, and earlier in the week, went out to buy a dvd player to watch the thing on. All on my recommendation of a movie? Craziness. But it was worth it, because he loved the movie. Shahar.
Then followed much fussing about with sheets and blankets and the finding of sleeping spaces (since Neighbour had the bedroom). We had The Talk. Shortly followed by the Hyper-Cuddling and Sleeping On The Ass-Hard Floor. I know, I know; I said I wouldn't make decisions like that in the wee hours anymore. But before all the madness started, when we were just cuddled up watching the movie, I was thinking that I was so comfy, so warm; I was so calm and it didn't feel at all weird. There was no awkwardness, no vague "wtf does he think he's doing??" moments. And I realized that it had always been that way, we'd never had them. Ever. In all the time I've known him (yeah, that's a whole three years, yo) I've felt comfy curling up on him for... ever? At least two years, and never once, when he picked me up to hug me or kissed me on the cheek, or pulled me around all playful, never did I feel imposed upon or weirded out. And he does understand. Whenever I feel like I'm just kind of a big flake who's faking her way through everything, just that no one's noticed yet, with him I kind of worry that one day he'll see through it all and realize; but at the same time, also that he knows, and it's kind of Our Little Secret kind of thing.
I think what I'm saying is that even though I was bad and broke my own rule, I can't think of any (male) friend where the line-blurring felt so normal. So... like it had been done long, long, long ago, we just hadn't acknowledged it yet.
So I was bad, yes. Things were about to get stickier though, since the next day I was to spend the afternoon with Roo. [Cue dramatic music here.] I was working on about two hours of sleep and still high from the night before. Everything was kind of hazy and a bit drab, so it was a little unfair to Roo, but we had fun. We fixed his dragon, and talked and hung out and watched Conan. There was definite "wtf does he think he's doing??" then. However, none of it really culminated till we were on the bus towards the station so I could meet up Neighbour and PseudoBrother (I really must find him a new name) when he tried to kiss me. While I admire the way he's not PDA-phobic, I was horrified. This is the guy who nearly cancelled the afternoon on Thursday? What? For the first time in my life, I managed to not trot out long, vague, trailing strings of words and managed a "...no." Of course, it was probably spoiled by me saying "Wow, I've never said that before" right after, but we're going to overlook that.
I feel bad though, and didn't have the heart to tell him about PBro. I will have to, and mend things later but for right now... I'm happy to just bask in it, and not worry about anything. Feel sunshiney.
The game was awesome. If they could get me out to more games, PBro and his housemates might yet make a hockey fan of me. (There's hope for me after all! My Canadianity does exist!!! ;p) Headed to a bar (noisy; crappy band; full of pseudo-goths) after, and I drank my first Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. It was alright. Too noisy for what I was in the mood for, but good fun nonetheless.
Another low-sleep night, followed by early waking for breakfast with Yuu, which was nice. Then skating on the canal (I miss skating! And skating on the canal is so much more fun than on a rink!) and wandering. Was feeling kinda pathetically girly and clingy all day, and got worse as our time to leave approached.
Seven hours later (that's 3 too many, folks) after shaking out the snow, I was sitting on my floor surrounded by an unpacked mess holding a Diesel Boy sweatshirt (that I love). My parents are now suspicious (thanks to afforementionned article of clothing) and I feel peaceful. Still riding on the high.
He asked if he was my boyfriend this morning. I hate that word. It doesn't carry any of the personality of what I think it should mean. Don't really want to have to tell others yet, and explain and label. I hate labelling. I understand how he would want to know, just as a reassurance that he is important (he is), but I would so much like to just be.
Even the distance isn't as painful. Probably because we're so used to it; it's built into how we think of each other. I do miss him though. And it feels good to know that he knows about my impending 3-month Drop From The Face Of The Earth, and that he understands. Wordless, no pressure. So weird to find everything that I need is there, right there; I already had it.
But really. I had the best of intentions when I left for Ottawa. I did...
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Wednesday, January 21st, 2009
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