There was this one timeWhen you looked at meand all I wanted todo was strap you downkiss you all over and make you minewould have been easy to do tooThere was also this one time when you looked at meand all I wanted to dowas be retaliatory and angry.Funny how now I realize thatboth times were the same.
Talking with exDave. Funny how we speak once a month and it's almost always about the same thing: Me and how horny we both are.
He makes bonus sex sound good. Dammit.
Bad timing too, cause Tony's parents are all in love with me and at dinner the other night they were asking the two of us when our wedding date was going to be. Albeit, they didn't know that they were asking this just 20 minutes after he'd gotten off the phone to call Cindy. They speak Spanish fluently and though I only know a few words that are the same/similar in French, I was able to tell when they were talking about us.
Tony doubts our friendship. I want him to. I know that's mean but like, he's really insecure about my friendship with his younger sister. There were times Monday night when he would say stuff and I would have to bite my tongue and then reassure him that I was still his friend.
He asked me a good question a few nights ago that sticks in my mind even now: How do I know that this time it'll be different?
Good point. I have no fucking clue. The only solution I have to that question is that I am different. One full month away from something that is never changing (Tony, his love for Cindy, my hatred for her and my resentment of him for being so fucking inconsiderate of my feelings) can do a lot. I still care about him deeply though and I don't want to. It hurts. He hurts. The fact that his parents can see how wonderful I am and would invite me and not Cindy to the party is like salt on the open wound. They love me. They call me their daughter in law. Tony will never understand that. Instead, he tells me his parents are insane when they do that.
I miss dancing with him. I miss the kissing and I miss the sexual tension that could have been cut with a knife. Somehow, I knew back when I left for college that things were going to change. It's the reason why I cried so much before I left. Do you remember that? Now, I'm not yet used to the new feelings that arise when we're together or just in the same household or in my thoughts:
Why did I call him? I miss him even when we're in the same room. What's the point of this? He's boring. The only thing Cindy has that I don't is a bad cape of nappy-ass hair. I'm the one with the talent and the beauty and the ability to treat him right. Pity. Why is there still some animosity here between us? I don't want that. I don't need that. Fuck animosity. Let's at least try for something better. How's that?
His parents gave me make-up, which I at first interpreted to be a personal attack on account of their supposed reactions to the hickeys of November. Let me tell you, they really don't nor did they ever seem to be really offended or bothered by them. What is he on?
Don't answer that.
Tomorrow I'll look this entry over and wonder why I even wasted so much of a diary entry about him.
