I should tell you ... no, you should ask me in the morning when we're not drunk.
No, you can't do that. Now you have to tell me.
OK. There are about two girls in this world that I would break up with you for right now.
One lives in Germany...
Why are you telling me this?
You told me to.
No...why are you telling me this? You know I've got baggage with this.
We need to go.
No, we need to stop and talk about this right now. Why did you tell me that? That was really hurtful.
I know, but...I don't know.
Does this mean you could never like me as much as you like them?
Well then why did you tell me? Because that was really hurtful and I don't expect you to like me the most right now, it's a process. But that just hurt.
I know, I'm sorry. It was stupid.
To make a long story short, when we got to his place, he told me every fucking gory detail. How he was dating this girl and then went to Germany and this woman told him she had feelings for him and that threw him for such a loop that he had to come home and break up with the girl. Who is now in his life as a very close friend. And then there was some other girl he was going to date, but some other girl told him she liked him or something, but that never came to fruition, but still, he didn't have the emotional wherewithal to actually date that girl. He never did make it clear why he told me, although he did mention something about how we weren't friends first, and usually he dates girls who are friends, and who kind of know this stuff about him. Or something.
And I'm fucking gutted.
But he was being honest, and I guess if he's going to say anything, I'm grateful for the truth. But why did he do that? My friend who has known him for a while says he likes to stir shit up. And he did do this about 30 minutes after I remarked to him that we've been dating for a month.
This morning, I was ok. But then I saw him messaging some girl on MySpace and I just lost it. If I could have jumped out the window, I would have. And I told him the night before, during the long ill-fated conversation, that I wanted to run. And he said he knew. That he could see that look in my eyes. And I also told him, too, that sometimes I don't know if he likes me, because he seems to have no interest in who I am, and that's why I was giving him such a hard time about it. But this morning, I just freaked out. And I got out as fast as I could, before the coffee he was brewing for me was finished.
"But I made it for you."
But I was scared, and I ran.
"Where are you going?"
"This is the way out, isn't it?"
"Yes, but you're running away."
(Yeah, I am.) "I need to go."
Smooch, smooch. "I'll call you on Monday...after you finish studying."
(Yeah, and I'll probably break up with you.) "Yeah, ok. Bye."
I don't know if I'm going to break up with him. I mean, I think it's almost impossible to find someone WITHOUT baggage. Hell, hello, I've got some, too! And I know he knows it, but there are hurtful ways of unloading it, and there are delicate, hey, let's get closer kinds of ways. And he noted, too, that he may have destroyed all the trust I had for him. That glorious, glorious trust!
I can't concentrate.
Thus, if I fail the bar, I'm blaming him. I'm probably going to fail the bar. At least one of them.