11.21.2005

List, dammit.

This particular default has become somewhat of a crutch. Oh well.

1. I slept with my ex. This is bad on so many levels. Let's explore them.
1a. Sleeping with Sean totally negates my whole "hanging out with your exes is awesome" rationale. My previous reasons for believing this are that: a) you already know that they're awsome, 'cause you dated them. b) you can fart and pick your nose or be in your pj's around them 'cause they've seen you naked and it doesn't matter. c) you can give them awesome advice on thier new girlfriends 'cause you know what they're doing wrong.
1b. This is not my first relapse; the former ended in a short but uncomfortable conversation that paraphrases something like:
"Sean, are you okay?"
"Uh...we shouldn't have done that."
"Yeah, I know, I thought we were past that."
"Yeah. Okay. Cool."

1c. Both of my Sean relapses have turned into this post-coital pity party during which we lay around naked and bitch about the people we're currently seeing. Ironically enough, last Friday's events were spurned by the same people we were bitching about last time. The only difference is that we have both since broken up with them and gotten back together.

2. I have decided I need to put the brakes on/pull back from the Quinn situation. I have got to stop doing this to myself. I shouldn't have to sleep with my ex to cope with him.

3. I am wondering exactly what I do and do not deserve in this lifetime. I don't even want to eat the cake, I just want to be able to tell everyone I have it. Just want to know that cake exists. I just want the cake to want me to eat it.
edit: 3a. A comment I made on Davey's Blog: "You are consistent, once more, (don't give me the repetative lecture...) in reading my mind. I was just posting about this--this idea of longing, what should be valid about which are the things that at the end of days are requited or no. It's our glass houses, our floorplans, our gods, our cake. It's our real cake, our metaphorical cake, it's the vanilla and chocolate and yellow cakes that we have or have not or eat them or discard them. And what the fuck? where is all this goddamned cake and what the fuck does it look like? And why am I constantly longing after the preservative-filled-pre-packaged-twinkie-type cakes offn this world, and why am I satisfied with eating only this one crappy variety? I want Tiramiseau. I want German Chocolate. I may not even have to eat it, but one day goddamnit I'll at least recognize it. May cake help us all."
--M

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