"and i don't know what to do with myself/i don't wanna be with nobody else/i just think about you/think about us/think about how much i miss you..."--Mariah Carey
You wake up feeling slightly rested, but disoriented. Yawning, you reach for your phone. Damn. It's only 2:15. You get up and use the bathroom, get back in the bed and close your eyes. You don't really get too far back into sleep but when you reopen your eyes, you're convinced it must be at least 5AM. Nope, 2:44. You sigh and stare at the ceiling. Wonder what he's doing? He's probably sleep. Nah, he's probably out in the streets partying...or worse, sleeping in some other lady's bed. He'd be well within his rights, of course; who are you to deny him his good time? You're not a part of his life. But you can't stifle the anger you feel creeping up. The unmitigated gall of him to be out living it up, or at the very least, sleeping peacefully in his own bed, while you scroll mindlessly through your PDA. Of course, you could call. If he's asleep, he just wouldn't answer. No harm, no foul. If he's awake, he still might not answer, but you could always tell yourself that it was because he was asleep, so you're safe. Of course, he also might answer, and then what would you say? You have no idea what to say. The last time you spoke wasn't your shining moment. What could you possibly have to offer the situation now? And really, what's changed to warrant you contacting him? Has he changed at all? Given any thought to your serious concerns? Probably not. What a joke. Men never change and don't care about anything. Well, that's not fair to say that because some men do change and care about a lot, but all in all, you should just try never to change a man or make him care about anything, anybody will tell you that. You didn't want to change him, though. You liked him the way he was. You just needed more from him. More that he was totally capable of offering, by the way. Good Lord. Honestly. Like getting blood from turnip. But, maybe he just didn't want to give it to you. But why not? Doesn't he know how amazing you are? Who could miss that? It's now freezing in your bedroom and you wrap yourself in your comforter, tucking it underneath you to generate heat. Why is it so cold? Then again, you guess you have your faults. Sometimes you border on an episode of "When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong". And sometimes, you cuss like a sailor. And your breasts sag. They do. Yeah, it's not that bad in a bikini, but naked? Orangutan. He's probably looking for someone with perky breasts and a constantly sunny disposition. But you're so ridiculously smart. And funny. And your legs are so long and your ass is just beautiful. He said so himself. Maybe he's spending the night with some Mensa comedienne with long legs, a beautiful ass and perky breasts. Oh, well. You're still gorgeous. And cool. An ambulance goes by. Wonder who's in it... Your mind drifts back to him. Oh no! Maybe he's in the ambulance! Maybe he's been hurt. You should definitely call. You never know these days what could happen. Why would they be going by your house, anyway? Well, there is all that construction on the freeway and they might have had a detour and wouldn't you regret it if you missed out on the chance to help him in his hour of need? But then again, what could you really do? Go down to the hospital and make a scene? It would be like some ridiculous outtake from While You Were Sleeping, and you are not Sandra Bullock. Hmmm...if you were a movie star, who would you be? Definitely not Sandra Bullock...but maybe Halle? No, you can't imagine dry humping Billy Bob Thornton--although nothing about that scene looked particularly dry. Whatever. Gross. Mind erase. Back to him. The thought occurs to you that he might be lying in his bed thinking about you. Maybe he's scrolling through your old text messages, wondering whether or not to call you. You roll your eyes at how desperate you've become. Now you're imagining that he's thinking of you while you're thinking of him? Ridiculous. Only happens in Lifetime movies. Well, then again, it's not unheard of. But it is unlikely. But then, how would you ever know if you didn't call him? Wow, the last time you were together he looked so sexy. You loved that shirt. You wanted to rip it off him and let him take you in the bathroom at the restaurant. Too bad there were so many unanswered questions and you couldn't give it up. According to "the rules". Not those "rules"...those rules are stupid. Your rules. Which are really a far more abridged, hood version of the patented rules. You really wanted to. Have sex with him, that is. You know you made the right decision, but there's no denying that if he was here now, you probably couldn't fight it. Now that he's gone, it's easier to be good. Which is a great reason why he's not here. But what if he was awake, and you called, and he wanted to be there? Your phone slips out of your hands and you realize your palms are not only sweating, you're breathing like you just ran a 5K. You should definitely call. What is there to lose? No, you know what? You will not call. This is always the problem. Put the phone down. Willpower, broad. Get yourself together. Have a little self-control. What's the matter with you? You're good at self-control with everyone else, every other man. Why not this one? What's so different about him? He's just another dude, just another man. Not only that, but he broke your heart. So he's even worse than every other man. He doesn't deserve your time. Maybe you should just masturbate and go to sleep. Only, now that you've thought of him you don't want to masturbate because it will just anger and depress you for not having the real thing. Hmmm...speaking of masturbating, you've been meaning to call Ash and find out what kind of cream her cousin was talking about in the comments on the sex toys post on her blog. Maybe that would be better than that janky vibrator you had last summer. Maybe he would be better than that janky vibrator you had last summer. Oh, he would definitely be better than that janky vibrator you had last summer. Except last summer, you didn't need that janky vibrator because you had him. And he was definitely so much better. Things were better, then, too, all the way around. Now you've finally forgotten about getting off because you're crying. Great. What time is it? 3: 20? This is like a sick joke. You're awake, crying, at 3:20 in the morning. And you have to get up in like four hours and fifteen minutes. The tears start out real slow, just a little trickle. It feels good. Maybe this is good. Maybe this is good for me, you think. Then, out of nowhere, the torrential rains come. Now, you're sobbing. Like, rib-hurting sobbing. Where did this come from? Great. It's 3:25 in the morning and you're sobbing. And you have to get up in like four hours and ten minutes. Well, at least you've forgotten about the sex--and him for now--because you have to worry about how to keep your eyes from looking puffy and bloodshot in the morning. Tomorrow's gonna suck.