Lesson: A Relationship on the Rocks Always Tastes Sour

This isn't H. But it is Howard from the Big Bang Theory. Which makes it awesome.

H. H. H.

H.

C and H were done, back when C bit his face during a bout of blacked out coitus. At least, C thought they were done. But H messaged her three days later, on the dot, right as she stared at her phone and said to herself, “If he doesn’t message me tonight, we’re done, and I will dance topless to Lisa Loeb in celebration.” It vibrated and she jumped. So C and H continued their

Their blank white space on a blog entry page. Their what? Their textingship (legit – just accidentally typed ‘textingshit’ – is that a sign, Freud?)? Their come what may? Their something but nothing?

C really, really thought it was perfect and perfectly perfect with her – the something but nothing. Isn’t that always how it goes? She won’t ruin this post by telling you she fell so hard and now just doesn’t know what to do with herself when the expectations weren’t met (because, no expectations, no obligations, right? and that’s not true at all). But she will slightly complicate this post by giving it a point: something but nothing’s are freaking awesome, except that when things go wrong, it tends to feel a whole lot more like something than nothing, amirite?

Where’s the fun and uncomplicated in that?

This is all just to admit, publicybutanonymously that C actually has feelings, and they’re hurt right now, even though she announces with frequency and repetition that she absolutely adores (never with those words) how uncomplicated and easy this (                              ) is. She’s spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating and fretting over H this weekend because he canceled his trip out here because he got sick (blame the sick guy. *Sigh* Another sign of pathology. Damn.) and because they haven’t had a textversation with more than 3 or 4 messages in 2 weeks. She feels the something bits becoming nothing bits, and the thought of the whole thing becoming all nothing is upsetting enough to devote an entire blog post to whining about it.

She’s doing what is probably best – not attaching obligation or expectation to it, being sympathetic and generally backing off. She also knows that the way she’s been acting and thinking this weekend about the situation isn’t indicative of a person who doesn’t want anything more out of this. But then when she thinks about more – some kind of LDR – she feels completely unhinged and uncomfortable. Which just now, like right now, leads her to this absolutely, genuinely startling conclusion:

C’s actually not crazy, and she truly was okay with something but nothing when the unspoken rules were adhered to by both parties (ie – talk 3-4 times a week, have at least 1 ‘real’ conversation per week, do some serious textflirting and minor sexting on a semi-regular basis, never mention other dates, etc). But he’s changed the unspoken rules unspokenly, and now she’s just legitimately fucking confused!

So wow. She’s officially giving herself a break and possibly going to breach the subject of the broken rules if he messages her at all this week. Thank Gore for blogging it out.

Lesson: Don’t conflate confused with crazy. If the Laser Tag Association of the Fun-Loving Universe changed the rules to play with real guns and didn’t tell you – you’d be pretty confused (and dead, too)… but Justing Bieber still would have punched a kid in the mouth.

(So you can guilt-free listen to a snippet of “Baby.” You’re welcome.)