till I see it in your eyes
Lately, since I have given up on TLB (I mean on trying to be his friend, or communicate with him. I haven’t given up on him; that would be too easy), I keep thinking about him at random times, you know, like: I hope he did something fun for St. Patrick’s Day, I hope he went out and didn’t have to work. And then I think, wait, why do I want him to be happy? Why can’t I hate him? He hurt me. I don’t want to care about him, but I do. I do want him to be happy; after all, we were friends first and we probably could still be, if he wanted to make the effort – which he doesn’t, not that I’m upset about that, but whatever – and we used to be, you know, fairly close. It doesn’t do me any good if he’s not happy, anyway. But at the same time, if I didn’t care, or if I could just be pissed off and hate him, then I could let go a lot easier. It irritates me that I have this problem. And not for the first time.

I could quote old journal entries, but suffice it to say: I REALLY JUST NEVER LEARN. I guess the silver lining here, if I look real hard for one, is that this allows me to do what it says in that popular quote (I don’t know who said it though) and love like I’ve never been hurt.

…

Never did get any green beer for St. Paddy’s Day. Got a green fruity-flavored alcoholic beverage, then a Killians (Irish Red, you know), then a green Jell-O shot. So all in all, not a bad evening, and the Tar Heels won.

…

So, my “type” of guy… What had happened was, a couple of weeks ago, one of my managers, in the midst of my crying fit/meltdown at work, said to another manager, to try to lighten up the situation, “Well, we know Molly won’t leave as long as Brooks is here,” Brooks being the only eye candy left at that place. The second manager was shocked by this, as apparently she was the only one in the store who had not realized my enjoyment of this eye candy, which began, oh, I don’t know, four months ago. Then her eyes got big as she turned to look at me and said, “I get it now! You like the tall skinny bearded ones who are cocky and brooding!” (Brooks: “I don’t brood! And I’m not cocky. I’m an asshole, but I’m not cocky.”) Sure I think Brooks is nice to look at, and it helps that we are friends, but I could never actually be with him, even if he weren’t married, and, okay, yes, that describes TLB, but I still wouldn’t have called it my type. It was just sort of coincidental.

Until I found that first link I posted in the last entry. Which was what made Memphis okay. Except that eye candy didn’t have a beard at the time, but now I see the goatee, and it occurs to me that he is now tall, skinny, bearded, cocky and brooding. So … yeah. Heh. Maybe I do have a type.

…

As I heard “Like We Never Loved at All” for the 67th time over the last four days this afternoon driving home from my retail therapy session at the outlets – which had worked rather nicely until I got in the car and heard the Tar Heels LOSE TO FUCKING GEORGE MASON – I started thinking that it sort of fits, and then I started thinking that it was just too much to have another sad Tim and Faith song that makes me think about a guy.

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Finally, the tax situation: I owe the government money, and I am not well pleased.