Bay the lust comes into phase, but you're down in Marrietta.

I'm somewhere in Georgia and the most interesting thing has been going on in my head.

I used to do this a lot, obviously. I've spoken of this recently even, of both the need to do this again and also of how three years off has rendered me wary of what is fit to print and what is not.

My brother in law Rashei and I spoke of this while swilling cheap PBR's in East Atlanta on Saturday, questioning how honest honesty is. My blog is honest, yes, but that only goes so far as it's also meant to be entertaining. This means that while honest, I tend to admit the things that are poignant (like when my boyfriend grabs me in the street and chases me home, twice) and omit the things that are boring (like going to the pharmacy to buy tampons). If you have read me for some time, you'll also note that it's somewhat thematic (XXX).

But see, it's not like I'm trying to keep anything from anyone, I just feel like maybe all of this--everything going through my head right now--maybe it's just boring. And I've told this story before, haven't I? Several states away from some boy or another, hanging all my hopes on seeing him for a few days convinced that it will be enough to right me and it never is, and then someone moves (usually me) and it all goes to shit. This is what happens when you live your days in several states, I'm sure of it. Okay, fine. Maybe it's just me.

Regardless, there is some shit going on in my head right now that you would not believe. Wait, okay. Disclosure. I mean t say that there is some really explicit shit going on in my head right now, and I'm unsure how careful I have to be with everyones feelings that are both in and out of my head, and I don't remember worrying about this ever before, so it doesn't seem fair that I should feel guilty. It's not fair! And this is where it gets boring because I'm caught in this ultra weird cycle of guilt and horniness and stagnation that could all be cleared up with a conversation that I can't have because we don't have that conversation. Ever.

Wait, that's not entirely true. We did have that conversation once, and I was all like "I don't want to do this anymore" and he was like "I don't really give a shit" and I was like "No for serials I'm breaking up with you" and he was all like "that doesn't really work for me." I just don't want to do all of this again. We only want each other because...because why not? And we only really want each other when we really can't have each other--so isn't the memory enough? Do we really have to go through all of these motions and airplanes and me posting all of this cryptic nonsense on the internet over and over and no. No, I'm sorry. This is all bullshit, and it sounds like vagina. You see? This is exactly why I didn't want to write about this.

But there is still all of this stuff in my head, stuff that will come to fruition if I simply let it happen. But if I feel guilty already, how will I feel when I shove him back on a plane with no plans to reciprocate? No plans to even plan reciprocating? I just mean that in my head there are two things happening: there is the part where I'm ranking the top five best times we've ever had sex and can't break the tie for #1 between Labor Day Georgetown Horseshoe Warehouse '06 and Last Afternoon of His Birthday Week In SF '08, and there is also the part where I'm trying to forget that I am not be the one who is the most invested this time.

The point, I suppose, is that I'm now somewhere in the Carolinas and that the sex part is winning.

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