the final days of year one
Of course, it really makes a boy feel like a Good Man when his woman starts crying, asks to be taken home, and doesn't tell him why (on the basis that it will only upset her more).
So he peeled out of my driveway and I hit bottom so hard I'm still bruised. But the weeping was good.
The straw that broke the camel's back was all the drunk fun of Saturday night and I said something I shouldn't have to Mike and he... well, it hurt his feelings. So Sunday morning I wallowed in self-indulgent self-loathing and decided not to tell him because then it would turn into HIM comforting ME when that wasn't the effing point. So I left.
Sunday night I spent with Heather while we studied, and she witnessed the text message of, "I just want to remind you you're wonderful..."
So she reminded me he's wonderful.
She took me to school yesterday morning and I talked about my uncertainty for what to give him for his birthday.
"He's the kind of person who'd walk in there..." I said pointing to an antique store, "and buy something and rebuild it."
His birthday is Thursday, though.
I finally saw him yesterday at 6:30... after my final... and he told me about a cabinet he had bought at the *same* antique store I had driven past, and he'd been refinishing it all day.
I think I did well on the final.
My grade in one course was a B+. I swear that's as good as that's ever going to get for that prof. He will not give me A's.
I really love my boyfriend, though. After all my psychotic moodiness of Sunday we were both excited to be together again last night. One day and I missed him. It's not cool waking up alone.
He's leaving in a month, and I hate that. I hate that I'll have to learn how to get used to not being with him. But I know he's not going anywhere, really.
Because he's in love with me, too.
