phthalombrage (
phthalombrage) wrote2007-05-03 09:35 pm
(no subject)
Roman is at it again.
Forty minutes of awkward standing, most of it silent.
The poor man barely knows English.
"We need to talk... about our relationship."
silence
"Why are you coming? You are not remember the combinations. You are not going getting better if you don't work. Do you not want to dance?"
silence
Taylor: We wouldn't be here if we didn't want to dance.
"Then go! Leave, if you don't want to be here."
silence...
Later in the awkwardness, I mentioned that we have competition next weekend and that there are only a few weeks left before recital. We've only done two classes worth of choreography for our ballet dance. There was competition last weekend so we didn't run it. He still won't run it. I don't think he understood what I meant.
I miss the good old days when he said he was "in KGB" and threatened to cut us.
Speaking of relationships...
Once there was this boy. He was very nice to me, funny, intelligent, pretty... and he loved me.
We "went out" for a while, and then it got to the point where we got along better if we didn't discuss anything, at least anything substantial. All along I had had these weird feelings because I am incapable of being content, for whatever reason. I'm too awkward, too critical. Then the magic wore off when I realized I had probably only wanted a best friend. I wasn't ready to spend the rest of my life with this one person, and I definitely didn't want to leave him hanging when I left for college. I wanted him to be able to decide which college to attend without thinking of me. I'm a bitch anyway.
For me things feel the same now, and I'm embarrassed to say that I even felt liberated, initially. Fucking feminists, you have your points. He's taking it pretty well, but I know it's weird for him. For me it's no big deal, no drama... we're friends, I still drive him home and we're still doing Scrabble night and going to Cobalt. But he still wants hugs between classes and I'm like ehh!
Why am I such a heartless person? I don't want to be Emma B., but I smell almonds...