text conversation

I'm weak. Saturday morning before a run, I texted Bud about carpooling with B to a Christmas party, and he had to work and couldn't go, which I expected. But we actually had a conversation. Well, a text conversation. And I remembered (again) that I like him as a person; for the first time in months, I actually laughed because of something that he said. The only laughing I've done about him has been slightly bitter. But this just surprised me, a genuine laugh. At the time I was like, cool, this is good, this is closure.

The previous Friday night and Saturday night I went out and the conversation eventually turned to relationships and dating, and everyone else has so much more experience, and seems so confident. It made me think, hey, I can handle a texting conversation with an ex. So the above texting conversation happened. But now all day I keep thinking about him, even though I know nothing - absolutely nothing - will happen.

The only good thing is that all this relationship saturation (starting from when I was in San Francisco) has told me a lot about what I can take and leave in a man. I'm going to have to go with the Adele song "Someone Like You," because Bud is the type of man that works for me. I don't have to dumb myself down or talk myself up. I'm not too smart. Let me tell you, I have scared many a man off because I'm "too smart." It's stupid. I also happen to be black, but raised on military bases, so I'm not black enough for the average black person. Yes, that so-called AAVE (African-American Vernacular English), I can't speak it. I understand it, but I can't say it back. Just like Spanish. That creates an immediate distance between me and black men. Yet the fact that I'm black creates a distance between me and men of other races.

Last night, my friend's brother was saying, don't even go looking for a man. One will find you. I didn't go looking for Bud- we got to talking and he asked me out. I wasn't sure about him, but I trusted him, so I said yes and it went on from there. But that doesn't happen often. Since we broke up, I get tired of waiting, but at the same time I apparently can't handle dealing with some other guy if texting Bud breeds tears, angst-inspired running, and weird dreams about still being in school. God, help.

In the meantime, I'm cleaning the bathroom. The shelves were cluttered with all this crap no one's used in years. So many spider webs. Floor scrubbing is next.