Steady

I'm going to stick with the facts. Friday night Kevin and I went out for dinner. We walked from his place to this cute little Mexican place in Seward. I had a chipotle, pineapple margarita with an awesome kick. [That margarita was my idea, by the way. Sure it was on their menu, but I made that drink up this past summer. Cross my heart. But whatever. ] The waiter was a gorgeous, young Mexican guy (late 20's) with an awesome ear piercing, a glimmer in his eye, and an intoxicating smile. He suggested I order the fajitas and so I followed his advice. Kevin was getting the tamales and informed me I could not order the same thing as him. Who does he think I am? I would never order the same thing. Doing that would be an insane waste of tasting opportunities. Sheesh. The fajitas came sizzling and the veggies were fresh and the shrimp plump and delicious. The guac was filled with onions and cilantro and garlic. Perfection. 

Kev and I sat at the bar, giggling like little kids. We were celebrating my possible new job (more on this later). He put his hand on my leg. He does that often. And when my hand wouldn't warm, he put it on his leg and put his other hand over it. He told me that he's told his friends a lot about me, except for the fact that I kicked his ass at Gin. His ego is still bruised and fragile from the upset. So he told his friends all about me and there's a bet on how long we will last. Kevin doesn't keep the girls around very long, or so he's told me. So the bet is that we won't last another month. He seems determined to prove that he can stay with me for longer than that. There's a show on February 22 and he's already pestering me relentlessly to accompany him. He also told me that I am required to go to his best friend's wedding in May. I keep joking with him about how he will be annoyed with me by then and all he says is that he still hasn't found anything that he doesn't like about me. Awe, he's a skilled sweet talker. One quick thing, I just realized that I don't know if this bet means I have to stay with him too. Why is he so sure I will stay with him?

Back to dinner. So, he's finished eating and I'm holding a fajita, on the verge of chowing down. I'm not sure what we're talking about when he says: "this may not be the best time to ask this but I was wondering if you will you go steady with me?" Ha! Steady. Are you fucking kidding me? I giggled and joked with him a bit about feeling like I was 12. This was entirely unexpected. Sure, he told me that he fell for me and he started to seem like he was questioning my availability, but in no way did I see this coming. I did not say "yes" immediately but asked him what that would mean. He said it meant 3 things: 1. We will no lie to each other 2. We will not cheat on each other 3. We will tell each other things that we should probably know. In other words, we are now exclusive. I was caught up in the romance and sweetness and said, "sure, I can do that." We looked at each other like dorky, uncomfortable kids. Then I said I had to call my bff and tell her. He said, "don't you want to go call your Mom?" I'm not sure if he was kidding. There was more laughter.

Not long after, some people at the restaurant were bringing loads of balloons up to the top floor and Kevin said that he had bought them for me to celebrate. Funny, man. He was teasing me. It became another theme throughout the evening. 

We walked back to his place. He reminded me of the rules of this agreement of ours. He also reminded me that I would get the new job because 1. I am good and 2. I asked for nothing. Screw him for judging me like that. We sat on the couch listening to amazing music and sipping wine. I saw pictures of all of his friends and him when he was young... same hair, same eyes, same skinny body. He told me stories. I listened and smiled as I curled up on his leather couch. We kissed. He held my hand and played with my ring. I left by midnight so that I could get up early the next morning. He sent me off with a bunch of music which included Colin Hay, Jack Johnson, Gogol Bordello, Josh Rouse, the Thievery Corporation and more. I'm especially enamored with Pete Yorn.

Kevin spent the weekend in Duluth and I spent mine in class asking myself what the fuck I'm doing. 

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And so here I sit, at my desk, with this gnawing in my gut. I don't want to be sad and lonely and insecure any more. I want to believe that good things can happen in my life. I want to believe that it's ok to drift around without being sure. I want to let go of the fears and be comfortable in my skin and in the not knowing. I want to believe that I deserve some peace. But instead, I keep myself so busy that when it slows, the pressure is enormous and I can barely breath. And I eat peanut butter in an emotional rebellion. And I want to keep dating guy after guy after guy, laughing at the total lack of connection. It's a cycle that I cannot seem to break.

For a long time, I thought that I understood love. I thought I was deeply in it and that it was something I could have again. And now, I'm not so sure that I even believe that it exists in any form worth being hurt for. That sounds dark and wrong, but I'm losing ground on this hope thing. When life keeps pelting you with fucking shit and blood, there's a point where you're an idiot to keep trying to stand.