Author and Columnist
Tonight, hopefully, I shall be ringing in the New Year with Conor, Zanna, and Alison.
A year before this, you refrained from having a New Year's Eve sleepover with Kate and her friends. You said that you were scared of Y2K, which was only hype and hard work for computer programmers. You were more scared of the concept of going to this party, which seems to be nonsense to me now. Instead, you sat in your parents' home, watched Dick Clark, and fell into mild anaphylactic shock because you were unaware that you are allergic to shellfish. Ringing in the New Year kissing your girlfriend would have been far better.
I still feel uncertain about keeping Wren's name as "Zanna" in your descriptions. You didn't know the truth about him then, but it is dishonest to change your recollection because I know better than you do (or he was ready to acknowledge, though the signs were present that he was not a woman).
I remember tendrils of this night. Wren had a Spooky the Thing What Squeaks doll, which was your first exposure to Jhonen Vasquez, whose work you will come to love. You kissed... no one at midnight, I don't think. It was not that kind of party, and you tentatively believed that you and Kate would be something more than exes, given your having made out a little while ago.
Writing about future events is significantly less fun, as I do not like predicting. I am very "NOW!" oriented at the moment, and a great deal of the now orientation is stopping myself from feeling in pain or anxiety.
Well, aren't these a weird few sentences to read twenty years later? I hold so many of the answers that you cannot imagine, the things that you will not predict (even though I know you have anyway).
It is odd to know to what degree this is a persistent problem, trying to remain in the moment to arrest anxiety.
I am rather not looking forward (see future orientation causes unpleasantness) to talk with Kate because she could easily say thing that could cause me a great deal of pain, could tell me that she is sleeping with other people despite her assurances, but at the same time, I want it all over.
Had you taken my advice sooner -- or at all -- and not kept indulging your addiction to Kate, this would have been easier. Just a month of no contact to get enough of her out of your blood. Just not talking to her.
She is, to the best of my knowledge, sleeping with other people at this point. Or she had. She didn't have a regular partner, which was the point of the endeavor.
But this entry was also formed of a letter to Kate; you said some version of this to her. Which is honest of you, but not healthy and puts pressure on her. You know what happens at this point when Kate feels pressure (or anything that doesn't feel good)? She retreats.
Your fears are valid. You should have trusted your intuition.
I just want to know what is going on so I can center my life again. Right now, my life is floating in a bitter cold abyss with translucent jellyfish and trying its damnedest to reach out for a purchase and not lose feeling or gain pain in the process.
You should be the center of your life. You are your only constant, and you can't shrug off responsibility onto fortune cookies or sexy exes.
The one light I thought I had may have been nothing more than my own fantasy and hope. I know one word could send all the jellyfish away, but the word isn't mine and I am under water thus unable to speak.
It is not entirely fantasy and hope, but it is so much that -- and you are frankly inept at playing it cool -- it might as well be.
You cannot argue your way out of dumped. You can't badger someone who loves you into being in a relationship with you.
The word is entirely hers, and I am truly sorry that such a pressure has been given to her.
Are you? I feel as though if you were sorry, you wouldn't do this.
I need her here to speak the word, which will banish the jellyfish, warm the water, or allow my life to find purchase.
You need to get your own sea sorted. You know the word you should have said: No. Set a boundary to help yourself.
But tomorrow, she shall be home (I pray this small prediction may come true) and we can see each other and speak.
But, as you said, you don't honestly want to speak with her. Right now, you can occupy a nebulous space where the two of you might at least kiss more. (You do. Not soon. And you shouldn't.)
(So, no, she can't tell me to wait until you get back from across the pond in London).
You should have given her time and operated as though it was nothing more than a fun bit of kissing with someone you loved. Had you been more relaxed, she might have wanted to explore knowing you better now.
I much prefer the entries that are not about your being a nudnik toward Kate. Write more of those. Ideally, entries where you don't feel the need to overanalyze any woman, but baby steps.