Ugh. Did I miss you.
What the hell have I done? I suppose I knew deep down that I was gonna do it. Yep. Went and fell back in love with the bastard.
Just about have myself convinced that I need to quit the job and move to Berkeley. He puts it in such a convincingly beautiful way, too. He’d help me in any way he can. I can stay with him until I find a job and get on my feet out there. Showed me all the cute places I could rent both in Berkeley and in the city. Of course, I wouldn’t want to move in with him until we are ready. He wants to start over.
Oh my god. He was just about perfect. The whole trip was this shy of a fantasy. We laughed a lot, cried a little and had mind-blowing sex that actually scared me because I don’t think I could ever find someone else that “fits” the way he does.
He tells me that he wants to make up for all the mistakes he made in the past and promises to devote the rest of his life to making me happy.
The romantic fool in me laps this up like a puppy. Oooh. We could start all over again. He wants to take me on dates. Wants to take me to shows. Wants to take me on his favorite bike trails in the hills. Wants to wake with me in the mornings and hold me and drink coffee and read the paper with me. We just spent the past five days living that life together.
But the (overly ?) cautious practical person in me reminds me of all these things:
I don’t know. I don’t know. Part of me tells me that the situation is pretty ideal. Because I’d really love to live in San Francisco, and he even admits that we can’t just make promises to each other. There are no guarantees. But wouldn’t it be great if not only I got a great job and moved out there (I really do hate my current living/job situation). And even better if he and I worked something out. I don’t know what right now. Just something.
I’m rambling. I’m all over the place. And I’m exhausted. And my mind is just spinning. I did have a fantastic time. I do love the jerk.
Fuck. Now what am I gonna do??
Guess it just goes to show that I’m so not the booty-callin’ type.
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